David Oyelowo takes Greg Williams to the barbers.
Photographs & Interview by GREG WILLIAMS
As told to JANE CROWTHER
Greg Williams joins British actor-producer-director David Oyelowo at his LA barber shop to talk creating opportunity and the pursuit of excellence.
‘Getting into character, the look of the character, the physical presence of the character, is something that I tend to focus on,’ David Oyelowo tells me when I meet him at a strip mall in Tarzana one morning in February. This unassuming location off Ventura Boulevard is a place for transformation for the multi-faceted actor who has played Martin Luther King Jr. in Selma, a pharma-villain in Rise of the Planet of the Apes and the first African-American US Marshal in Lawmen: Bass Reeves. Today, Oyelowo is getting a haircut from his trusted barber, Gene. ‘He’s very detail orientated,’ Oyelowo says as we walk inside. ‘He gets me looking right.’
Sandwiched between a pilates studio and a dog groomers, the barber shop is a cosy space that Oyelowo has been coming to for a long time – Gene has been cutting his hair for 15 years. It’s one of his neighborhood spots in LA, now home since moving here in 2007 and becoming a US citizen in 2016. The valley is also the location for the filming of Government Cheese, his new ’60s-set dramedy show currently streaming on Apple TV+ in which he plays an ex-con who returns home to his family and causes chaos. He’s about to start a promotional campaign for the project and wants a sharp cut.
As Gene fires up the clippers, I ask Oyelowo about his relationship with excellence, given his prolific work output and his ability to plate-spin being an actor, producer and director. ‘A principle I live by is: the difference between good and great is hard work. I think that’s what excellence looks like. I’ve had to learn that there’s a difference between perfection and excellence. Perfection is debilitating. It’s unattainable. I think, actually, it ultimately leads to depression. The pursuit of excellence is something that is attainable because it’s basically doing your best, knowing you’ve done your best, and making peace with the fact that that’s as much as you can do. Failure doesn’t mean that you weren’t excellent. I used to actually take pride in being a perfectionist, especially with having kids, you’re trying to model behaviour that they will emulate. I recognise that them watching their dad pursue perfectionism is not a good example. But excellence absolutely is. That is what I now aspire to more than perfection.’
If you find good people, hold on to them for dear life
Oyelowo has certainly shown excellence in his work to date since learning his craft at the National Youth Theatre and LAMDA before making his name in BBC spy show, Spooks, in 2002. Since then he has impressed in a wide range of projects (and accents) including Lincoln, Jack Reacher, Interstellar, Silo, The Book of Clarence and most recently as Shakespeare’s Coriolanus in London’s West End. He’s been working professionally since 1995 and subscribes to the building up of a career with varied roles and experiences. ‘Young actors, or people who are aspiring to be actors, a lot of the time what they aspire to is instantaneous success, or having quite a high level of notoriety quickly. I actually think that’s a trap. What you actually want is a slow-burn career. You don’t want to have the highs be too high, and the lows be too low. But consistency is how you end up with a body of work that is admirable in its totality, as opposed to these moments that, in isolation, warrant attention, but then there’s this dearth in between. And the only way you get that is perseverance.’
As Gene carefully grades his hair, Oyelowo smiles in the mirror. ‘This is why I like having my haircut done by Gene. Every time I sit in this chair, I can tell that he is looking to do his best work. I genuinely am drawn to that. It’s one of the things that I enjoy as a producer, and whenever I’ve directed as well. It’s being around people who are brilliant at what they do. Actually, I got a great piece of advice. The feature film that I directed a little while ago, The Water Man, I called some directors who I really admire. One of them said something that really stood me in good stead, which is that your job is to hire the best people possible, communicate your vision very clearly, and then allow them to take flight. So excellent people – people who pursue greatness – is the way for you to look great as a director. And certainly I know from when I work with great directors, that’s very clearly the distinguishing factor. They surround themselves with people who are really excellent, and they model it in what they do as well.’
I ask him about working with an actor often cited for excellence, Daniel Day Lewis, who played President Lincoln to Oyelowo’s union soldier in the Spielberg film. ‘I personally think he’s the greatest living actor,’ he responds without hesitation. ‘The definition of not only an actor but a great actor is someone who is chameleonic; someone who genuinely transforms role to role; someone who clearly has studied humanity to a degree whereby they’re able to approach humanity from so many different angles and still be convincing in the roles they play. That, to me, is a master of the craft, and I can think of very few actors who take as many risks as he does, who pay a price as high as he does, and who are as successful in terms of the execution of their roles as he is. He, for me, is the gold standard. And then there’s working with Forest Whitaker on The Last King of Scotland, or a director like Christopher Nolan or Steven Spielberg or Anthony Minghella or Ava DuVernay, where you go, ‘Oh, there are levels to this thing.’ Tom Cruise is the same. These artists who you just go, ‘Oh, that’s why you’ve been doing it this long. That’s why there’s a connection between you and the audience that is not what you get everywhere.’ That gave me the blueprint, and maybe even the playbook for some of the more intense roles I’ve been afforded the opportunity to go on to play.’
Having played two historical figures in Martin Luther King Jr. and Bass Reeves, Oyelowo was hoping to add another to his resume with a long-gestating biopic of boxer Sugar Ray Robinson. ‘I think I have to make peace with the fact that I’ve probably aged out of playing Sugar Ray Robinson,’ he laughs. ‘But I still want to tell that story, and I think I’m going to still do it, probably as a producer, maybe as a director. Sugar Ray Robinson in his prime may be something that I let someone else do. But, honestly, that is something that I increasingly have enjoyed doing, keeping open the doors that have either been opened for me, or I’ve managed to get open, and making sure that others are allowed through. A big goal of mine is to leave the storytelling landscape different than I found it. A film about Dr King where he’s central had not been made before. A show that had Bass Reeves central had not been made before. Sugar Ray Robinson was the inspiration for Muhammad Ali. We should know more about him. That’s why I’m passionate about that story. And finding different ways to get these stories out there is the thing I’m ultimately very dedicated to.’
Oyelowo’s production company, Yoruba Saxon, looks for projects that shine a light on underrepresented stories. ‘We have a motto to normalise the marginalised. Our goal of normalising that is just an acknowledgment that filmmaking and television changes culture. It’s one of the most potent means of both advancing and regressing culture. And so I definitely want to be on the good side of that fence. Telling stories, for me, is a means of entertainment and education, but it’s also a political act for me.’
His move to LA from the UK was also something of a political act. Feeling limited by the opportunities available to him at home despite success with the RSC and Spooks, he turned his eyes towards America – moving himself and his wife to Hollywood. ‘It was patently obvious that the UK was not going to provide the opportunities I aspired to. Some of that is to do with race. Some of that is just to do with the size of the industry. But the two things compound each other. If it’s a smaller industry, and Black and brown people are not prioritised, then it’s an even smaller postage stamp to land on.’ Has that changed, I wonder? ‘Where I think it hasn’t changed much is I see that for Black actors in the UK, a path to a global career is still through playing roles that are not British. You still have to play American roles, or roles that are not tied to our culture in the UK, which I think is deeply unfortunate. John Boyega has to do Star Wars. Chiwetel Ejiofor has to do 12 Years a Slave. Idris Elba has to do The Wire. Naomie Harris has to do Moonlight. Thandiwe Newton has to do Mission: Impossible. Daniel Kaluuya has to do Get Out… There isn’t the same trajectory as if they’re white, British actors. It’s different.’
He recalls his methodology for trying to break out of pigeonholing. ‘I had to say to the people who were considering taking me on as an agent, “Put me up for the roles that are either non-race-specific or are specifically white, because that’s where there’s more dimension. And then I’ll bring the specificity of my Blackness to it.” When it’s written for a Black character, the aperture just goes so small, and it does fall into caricature and stereotype – and a lot of the stereotypes that I didn’t want to be perpetuating. Also, it made characters such that a global audience couldn’t relate to them. They felt so niche. They felt so boxed. A lot of my career has been spent exhaustingly having to educate people – my history, my culture, who I am, my journey, is not their bias or their perspective. Things are getting better but ultimately until women, until Black and brown people own distribution mechanisms, or have the resources to be able to tell their own stories outside of the studio system, we’re going to be in this cycle.’
Oyelowo leans forward in his chair and inspects Gene’s work before asking for minute calibrations in the weight of his goatee. I ask him about growing up in the UK as the kid of immigrants. His Nigerian parents from two different tribes ‘essentially eloped’ to Britain to be together, having him in Oxford before the family moved to South London and then back to Lagos. ‘You want to talk about a culture shock? Not only was it just different culturally, but it was very different familially. We didn’t really have any family in the UK, and suddenly we lived on the Oyelowo compound on Oyelowo Street in Lagos.’ At 13, the Oyelowos returned to London, to Islington, where the teenager caught the acting bug. Now he lives in Los Angeles with his family (a 13-year-old daughter and 17-year-old son; his two older sons, aged 20 and 23, have since flown the nest), three dogs and two parrots. At 48 he considers himself in the sweet spot for amassed experience and nous. ‘One of the greatest things about getting older and more experienced is trusting your gut. I think that it should be earned over time. It’s not something where you’re coming in as a 19-year-old and just throwing your weight around. I’ve seen that, and it’s not pretty. But an opinion based on knowing to trust your gut, combined with experience and with humility, I think is where you’re really starting to make a dent – a good one. That’s something that is increasing for me. And it’s amazing how much more you can achieve with genuine “sacrificial love”, where you’re putting other people before yourself, and therefore creating a culture with everyone looking after each other. On a set in particular – that’s one of the things I love about being a producer or a director. It’s having the opportunity to help establish that culture. If you’re not in a leadership position, it’s much harder to help engender that environment. The abuse of power is all about insecurity. I don’t like working with those guys or girls. That’s a luxury I now have. Not everyone has that luxury. But, boy, it’s one I take, because it’s so debilitating working with people who are power-hungry, who are not truly collaborative, who are toxic, and who just seem to thrive on making other people’s lives difficult. It’s just not worth it.’
Gene is done – it’s a fresh cut – and we return to the theme of excellence. Oyelowo thinks back to seeing the way Steven Spielberg surrounded himself with the highest level of craftsmanship on Lincoln. ‘If you find good people, hold on to them for dear life. With Spielberg – the director of photography, production designer, costumes – so many of the crew have done multiple films with him. And it’s a great way to just weed out the arseholes, and just have that shorthand with people.’ He turns to his groomer Vonda sitting nearby and asks how long they’ve worked together. The answer is 15 years. He asks his PA, Darnell, the same question. It’s three. Oyelowo throws up his hands in a ‘see?’ fashion and laughs. ‘I’ve told Darnell very clearly that I need at least seven years’ notice if she’s going to quit!’ He stands and brushes his hair off. ‘For me, that’s how you have not only a good life but a good working life…’
Government Cheese is streaming now on Apple TV+
Hair: Gene Miller, Grooming: Vonda Morris, Styling: Mark Holmes
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Charlie Heller (Rami Malek) is a self-confessed CIA nerd and puzzle fan. A systems analyst and decoder who can unpick a photo to determine the location of the subject, access cameras across the world and save the life of a field agent via technology, he’s nevertheless a homebody who has never travelled overseas and is tinkering with a cessna plane in his barn but may never fly it.
When his wife (Rachel Brosnahan) jets off to London for a conference all that changes as she is taken hostage and killed by terrorists. Beset by grief, rage and retribution, Charlie tires of waiting for the CIA top brass to do anything about tracking down the killers and sets off to unravel their identities and exact revenge himself. And in doing so uncovers a conspiracy at the heart of the agency…
Developed by Malek with his producer’s hat on from Robert Littell’s bestseller, The Amateur plays with the idea of what would happen if a regular joe who couldn’t shoot or fight went out into the world of espionage. Rather than having the action competence of Bond or Bourne, Charlie sweats his way through security checks and devises nerdy, inventive ways of teaching bad guys a lesson. That fish-out-of-water element is the central charm of the film, with Malek convincing as a man who can improvise de-pressurised swimming pools (try to resist the trailer to save this set piece for the screen), but is out of his depth.
Though the film rests on the expressive Malek bringing audiences along for the ride he’s helped in his quest by Laurence Fishburne glowering as a handler on his trail, Caitríona Balfe as a spy widow who uses chickens and laptops with equal aplomb, and Michael Stuhlbarg making the big bad a morally nuanced catch. Jon Bernthal also turns up for coffee and cake (literally). A quieter espionage outing than 007 but one that still provides globetrotting, foot chases and explosions amid the tech tinkering with GPS, CCTV and pressure gauges.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Photographs by JOHN WILSON/20TH CENTURY STUDIOS
The Amateur is out now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
The question of whether a mythical horse beast with a forehead protuberance shifts its mortal coil is answered fast in this debut satire from writer-director, Alex Scharfman. Within minutes of uptight attorney Elliot (Paul Rudd) and his emo teen daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) touching down in the Canadian wilderness, they have mowed down the titular equine in their hire car as they fractiously drive to the remote home of his obscenely rich, terminally-ill boss (Richard E. Grant), Odell Leopold.
A make or break weekend for Elliot who wants to earn the trust of the pharma-wealthy Leopold family in order to make big bucks as their proxy lawyer, he insists on continuing with the trip by shoving the unfortunate road kill in the trunk and begging his reeling daughter to act normal. She’s obviously not going to toe the line because she wears smudged eyeliner and declares that ‘philanthropy is just reputational laundering’. But when the unicorn’s horn and blood prove to have transformative healing powers, a moral and physical battle commences – not least because the beast’s magical clan want revenge…
Though the themes are familiar and broad (wealthy people are awful, big pharma is ruthless, healthcare is ringfenced for the rich), the cast elevate proceedings with committed performances. Grant is reliably gonzo as a wildlife-hunting British toff with a safari-chic sartorial bent, Téa Leoni serves odious wealthy wife that fans of Parker Posey’s White Lotus turn will relish, while Will Poulter essays ‘moneyed doofus’ with aplomb, an entitled twit with delusions of grandeur who thinks short shorts and hot tubs are the answer to everything.
While they do the gags, Rudd and Ortega explore the emotion amid the carnage as ferocious, pointy-headed ponies savage staff – hoof-popping skulls, disemboweling with fangs and goring with horns. As the savagery amps up and night turns to dawn, Death Of A Unicorn becomes a meditation on death and grief as Ridley and Elliot work through their trauma from losing their mother/wife to cancer. And there’s an 11th hour moment that plays as truly dark and beautiful, shifting gear momentarily from an extended Black Mirror episode to something trotting on the edge of profound. At the centre though, Ortega shines – as lead and producer – the human heart in a cruel world.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Photographs by BALAZS GOLDI/MONOCEROS MEDIA LLC
Death of a Unicorn is out now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
The titular lady is a black-clad veiled figure who appears calmly sitting in her Victoriana outfit on the perimeter of a family farm on a sun-dappled day. That in itself may not be disquieting but it’s the start of a haunting film that deftly explores grief, motherhood, guilt and the interior darkness we all carry for much of its brisk run time.
The woman (Okwui Okpokwasili) appears one day that seems suffocating for Ramona (Danielle Deadwyler). The widowed mother of a teenage boy (Peyton Jackson) and little girl (Estella Kahiha), Ramona is a woman who awakes and asks the universe to give her strength. Why? Because her husband has died in a car accident that also seriously injured her, she’s struggling to pay the bills on the farmhouse they bought as a fixer-upper, she feels trapped in a life she didn’t want for herself and just getting out of bed is a feat – physically and emotionally. On this particular day the family discover that the electricity has been cut off, leaving them without juice to charge their phones or keep the food in the fridge fresh. Popping pills and struggling with mental health, Ramona is attempting to keep her rage at bay with her kids when the dark figure manifests on the lawn, sitting motionless and watching the house. Her period clothing and poise suggest an otherworldliness, her blood-covered hands and murmuring of ‘today’s the day’ evoke a fear in the family. Who is she and what does she want? As the trio lock themselves in the house and the shadows of the day length, the answer becomes apparent as the woman moves closer…
To say more is to venture into spoilers but Jaume Collet-Serra ratchets up tension and unease with creepy cinematography, a couple of jump scares and a reoccurring mirror motif. As the locus of the woman’s visit comes into focus, the story beats soften. And while the idea of the twist at the centre of the film offers opportunity to examine suicide ideation, depression, mourning, the pressure on women to carry a family and even generational trauma (the house is in Georgia), the final third is as fuzzy as Deadwyler’s mom. The pleasure then is in watching an actor who has wowed recently in The Piano Lesson and I Saw The TV Glow fill out the blanks of this role with unapologetic ferocity and tangible pain. Ramona isn’t always likable, but she is always relatable and Deadwyler sells a final act arc with incredible sensitivity.
A psychological horror that will likely intrigue and exasperate in equal measure. And serves as a reminder to always charge your phone…
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Photographs by DANIEL DELGADO JR./UNIVERSAL PICTURES
The Woman in the Yard is in cinemas now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Robert de Niro playing two mob bosses in a film scripted by Nicholas Pileggi of Goodfellas fame in a decades-spanning true tale of NY turf wars? Ba-da-bing! Barry Levinson’s elegant biopic ticks all the boxes for audiences craving a little Scorsese-adjacent drama filled with sharp suits, mobster mumblings and period detail.
Leaning into his own acting legacy, de Niro plays Big Apple godfather, Frank Costello – a suave, temperate leader who’s happily married to Bobbie (Debra Messing) and has risen from an immigrant teen frequenting the Alto Knights social club, through prohibition to become the so-called ‘prime minister’ of syndicated crime. He also plays his rival, Vito Genovese, an erratic, violent kingpin who wants a slice of the pie and will leave a trail of bodies to get it. The two men are differentiated by modified Noo Yawk accents and CGI noses; Costello in the mode of de Niro in Goodfellas, Genovese taking a leaf out of the Joe Pesci school of hair-trigger rage monsters. When Vito books a hit on Frank (carried out by an almost unrecognisable Cosmo Jarvis committing fully to the bit as a heavy putz) in 1957, Frank narrates the fallout and build-up to this particular moment. That takes in the introduction of drugs, congressional hearings and RFK’s mafia purge.
Levinson loads his film with archival footage, luxe production design and costumes, plus plenty of wise guy conversations in the vein of Goodfellas’ ‘how am I funny?’ moment. (Mob goons chat about Mormon history in the back of a car, Vito whines about the disrespect of an ex-husband and the appraisal of a failed hit is almost pastiche). There’s a humorous streak that runs through proceedings from the kick of seeing De Niro walking lap dogs in mink coats to a disastrous mafia barbeque. And there’s spirited women who hold their own in the Mafioso flexing; Messing and her plentiful jewels manage to create a warm and believable partnership and homelife, while Katherine Narducci is hugely entertaining as Vito’s vivacious broad of a wife.
But the main event is seeing De Niro face off with De Niro, and Levinson provides a number of scenes where Vito and Frank converse, biting at each other in candy stores and prison cells. It’s testament to the actor’s skills that the CGI trickery convinces and the two men feel both real and separate. While it doesn’t break the mold in mob tales, it’s not too shabby either. Capiche?
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Photographs by JENNIFER ROSE CLASEN/WARNER BROS. ENTERTAINMENT INC.
The Alto Knights is out in cinemas now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
George and Kathryn Woodhouse ((Michael Fassbender and Cate Blanchett) are married British spies – intentionally childless, cool as cucumbers, impeccable dressers and would kill for each other. They live in a glamorous townhouse in London and conduct covert ‘black bag’ operations that take them away from each other on secret assignments. He is fastidious in grooming, cooking and methodology; she reverberates with intelligence and sensuality. But when George is tasked with finding a rat in the organisation and given a list of five possible suspects that includes his wife, both their loyalties – martial, national and professional – are tested. With a week to find the traitor in a group that includes a psychiatrist (Naomi Harris), a tech whiz (Marisa Abela), a suave overachiever (Regé-Jean Page) and a lax agent (Tom Burke), George needs to be as sharp as his Dunhill-tailored suits…
Steven Soderbergh’s brisk and smart thriller (written by David Koepp) enjoys riffing on our cultural awareness of spies in movies while still laying out a twisty bread crumb trail of clues to a satisfying reveal. It’s surely no coincidence that two former Bond stars feature in the cast – Miss Moneypenny Harris as a company shrink and 007 himself, Pierce Brosnan, as an ‘M’-adjacent agency boss who enjoys eating sushi while the fish is still gasping its last. The lensing and costuming evoke spy movies of the ’70s (prepare to covet the clothing), while scenes involving polygraphs deliciously skewer movie tropes while also teaching us a sphincter-clenching move to beat the lie detector. Drone strikes, hard drives, satellite surveillance and firearms are used, as are drugs to kill and to loosen tongues. But the most dangerous weaponry discharged is the ability to keep one’s head and use the brain within it.
To that end, though it’s fun to watch all the players as they circle each other (particularly a peevish Brosnan), the main event is Fassbender and Blanchett, ice and fire, as they toy with their team in the pursuit of marital stress-testing. Is Kathryn the mole? Would it even matter if she was? Does George actually watch her wherever she goes? And does she like it? With their one-on-one scenes played out in the bedroom (while dressing, undressing, preparing for bed or sex) Fassbender and Blanchett pull off a Mrs & Mrs Smith frisson that, given the open ending, could leave room for further films. And while we wait for the next Bond, why not? When it’s done with this much cheeky style…
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Photographs by CLAUDETTE BARIUS/FOCUS FEATURES
BLACK BAG is in cinemas now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Mickey (Robert Pattinson) is a disposable worker, an expendable. Not just theoretically as so many of us feel while slogging in unfulfiling jobs at the knife’s edge of a dwindling industry or for corporations who insist we are replaceable. But literally. Self-described as a ‘meat-cicle’, Mickey gives his DNA to a tech corporation sending people to space in pursuit of new planets to mine in order that he can expire and be 3D printed back out repeatedly. Need a bod to explore dangerous territory? Be a guinea pig for ruinous vaccines? Be cannon fodder? Call for Mickey. And when he dies from pox, freezing, internal bleeding, fire – just print out the next version.
Running from debt and misery on earth, Mickey’s happy to trade Xeroxing himself for a trip to a possibly better life, or lives. But once on a space ship with a despotic, narcissistic politician/CEO (Mark Ruffalo) and his sauce-cooking wife (Toni Collette), he discovers love with Nasha (Naomi Ackie) and that being the lowest lifeforce on the crew is a bummer. Each time he regenerates he remembers his previous lives (and deaths) which builds up to an existential crisis. And when Mickey 18 is printed out when Mickey 17 isn’t expired, all hell breaks loose…
Bong Joon-Ho’s follow up to awards darling, Parasite, boasts the same anarchic mischief – and then some. Sharing more tonal and bonkers DNA with Okja than his Oscar-scooping film, Mickey 17 is frequently funny, odd and disquieting. And it works both as a daft comedy as well as a pertinent anti-capitalist, pro-environmental battle cry against colonialism and blindly following self-serving leaders who operate on social channels (Ruffalo’s boss communicates via a TV show and his supporters wear red baseball hats). It’s a film that gives Nasha a healthy sex drive without repercussion, makes audiences care about weird ice monsters that look like the lovechild of a hairy buffalo and a woodlouse, and allows Pattinson to go for broke with a characterisation that leans hard into his preference for playing oddballs. With his Marmite idiolect, nervy body language and low-energy demeanour, Mickey is a hoot – even when he’s flopping out of a printing machine, forgotten by operators, and slopping onto the floor like wet dough.
Pattinson’s physical comedy and doleful eyes are matched by Ackie’s verve and Ruffalo’s toothy cartoon fascism in a big budget (and big running time) movie that asks audiences to look at corporate greed, current politics, personal integrity and at what price we seek happiness. It’s the sort of Saturday night blockbuster that will divide audiences and might make you consider handing in your notice on Monday morning. And warns to always, always read the paperwork carefully.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Pictures courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures
Mickey 17 is in cinemas now
Words by JANE CROWTHER
We wait ages for a film about older women challenging the patriarchal box they’ve been put in and then a slew come along at once. Where The Substance raged at societal stands of beauty and Babygirl rallied women to own their own orgasm (glass of milk or not), The Last Showgirl explores the liminal moment that women age out, lose relevance in a world driven by youth, beauty, novelty.
Much has been made of Pamela Anderson’s ‘comeback’ as lead, playing Shelly, a sequin-clad cabaret girl whose dreams were made by becoming a star in a Las Vegas cabaret show that boasts rhinestones, feathers and boobs. Now 57, Shelly still clings to the magic she sees in her role while Vegas changes around her. The show she’s taken so much validation from is set to close (edged out by a cleaner vibe for Sin City) and as she struggles to reconnect with her daughter (Billie Lourd) she goes through a grieving process – not only for the end of a Vegas era but the close of a chapter of her life.
As she auditions for other shows and lies about her age under the glare of a bored producer (Anderson’s dated routine seems almost quaint and is strangely moving), Shelly talks through the new future that might face her with her friends; former hoofer turned casino cocktail waitress, Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), gentle giant stage manager Eddie (Dave Bautista) and fellow dancers Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Ann (Brenda Song). While the two younger showgirls might continue in the business, it’s clear that Shelly’s next steps lie either in a change in direction or in following Annette into the humiliation of wearing sexy uniforms for gambling punters who don’t want to look at her in them.
While Anderson is a delight as Shelly – soft, gentle, beguilingly delusional – she almost loses the film to Curtis. Both women have dancing sequences that stick in the memory long after the slight, well-worn narrative has faded; Anderson a final bow of self-respecting shimmying in a spotlight that aches with yearning for the past, and Curtis, in a rageful wig-out on the casino floor. With her mahogany tan, pearl lipstick and cheap costume, Curtis puts a world of experience into her furious gyrating that the script does not afford her.
As a dreamy salute to the women who danced for Vegas, The Last Showgirl works thanks to its engaging and empathic performances. And serves as an opening act to tease what Anderson might surprise with next…
Words by JANE CROWTHER
Pictures courtesy of Roadside Attractions
The Last Showgirl is in cinemas now
Photographs by Greg Williams
Words by Jane Crowther
The temperatures were freezing for this year’s EE Bafta Awards at the Royal Festival Hall on London’s Southbank, but relationships were warm backstage where Greg Williams captured the festivities.
The mood was celebratory as guests flooded from the Tattinger champagne receptions on all levels of the RFH into the auditorium and found their seats – as well as their colleagues and category competition. Pamela Anderson and Demi Moore hugged and chatted front of stage while Timothée Chalamet (who’d skipped the red carpet) caught up with newlyweds Soairse Ronan and Jack Lowdon. Chalamet’s girlfriend, Kyle Jenner, talked at length with his A Complete Unknown co-star, Monica Barbaro, while Cythia Erivo and Ariane Grande whispered to each other as they held hands.
This year’s ceremony was presided over by David Tennant, who opened the show with a spirited rendition of The Proclaimers’ ‘I’m gonna be (500 Miles)’ and joked that the runner up of the Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest was sitting on the front row with his Jenner lookalike date.
Backstage, the atmosphere was convivial as Edward Berger’s Conclave took home four awards (best picture, outstanding British film, adapted screenplay and editing) and Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist won the quartet of best director, leading actor, cinematography and score. They were expected triumphs along with best supporting actress, an emotional Zoë Saldana for Emilia Perez, and supporting actor in an absent Kieran Culkin for A Real Pain.
Saldana was still tearful as she came off stage after her win – her second trip to the podium after presenting Outstanding debut with Selena Gomez to Kneecap writer-director Rich Peppiatt who joked he was in a ‘lovely sandwich’ as the actresses escorted him down the backstage steps for photographs. Aardman’s Wallace And Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl also picked up two awards that seemed uncontested in the categories of best animation and children and family film. Directors Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham juggled their clay models with their BAFTA as they exited the stage.
Surprises came with the best actor category which pundits had thought might have gone to Ralph Fiennes on home turf but was awarded to The Brutalist’s Adrian Brody. He joked that he was ‘signing his life away’ as he signed papers allowing him to take his BAFTA mask home, before he returned to stand by a monitor to watch who won best actress. Demi Moore has had an unbeatable run during awards season for her work in The Substance, but BAFTA voted for Anora breakout – and Hollywood Authentic’s current cover star – Mikey Madison. When she arrived backstage, Brody high-fived her and the two chatted as they waited for Best Picture to be announced. Both actors’ films were nominated and both nodded and applauded when that gong went to Conclave. As the Conclave team arrived backstage, Madison congratulated them before pausing to huddle in a corner to call her delighted parents in LA.
There was a Harry Potter and Star Wars reunion when Warwick Davis received his BAFTA fellowship from Potter veteran, Tom Felton. ‘You deserve it so thoroughly,’ Felton told Warwick, who played Filius Flitwick to his Malfoy, as the two hugged and exchanged news. Waiting in the wings to present best picture, Mark Hamill joined the duo – congratulating his Star Wars co-star on his achievement and kneeling for photos.
Once the ceremony was over, the catch-ups and selfies began downstairs over dinner where oversized themed lampshades loomed over a supper of vegan caviar, roast chicken and popcorn-strawberry cheesecake. Zoe Saldana and Warwick Davis chatted with their BAFTAs in hand, Kylie Jenner slipped on a jacket to talk to tablemates on the A Complete Unknown table while Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo took Wicked group snaps.
Despite a tragic fire at Chiltern Firehouse disrupting plans at the last minute, the Netflix after-party remained the post-awards place to be – moving with 48-hours notice to The Twenty-Two in Mayfair. Downstairs, Zoë Saldana and her husband hung out with Anna Kendrick as well as Demi Moore and her daughter, Scout. Jared Leto rubbed shoulders with Sophie Wilde, Colman Domingo and Ncuti Gatwa in the buzzy red lounge. Upstairs, Malachi Kirby caught up with his A Thousand Blows co-star Francis Lovehall while Orlando Bloom danced and Camilla Cabello moved among the revellers…
WINNERS:
Best Film – Conclave
Outstanding British Film – Conclave
Best Director – Brady Corbet (The Brutalist)
Outstanding Debut By By British Writer, Director Or Producer – Kneecap
Film Not In The English Language – Emilia Pérez
Best Documentary – Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story
Best Animated Film – Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
Best Original Screenplay – A Real Pain
Best Adapted Screenplay – Conclave
Best Leading Actress – Mikey Madison (Anona)
Best Leading Actor – Adrien Brody (The Brutalist)
Best Supporting Actress – Zoe Saldaña (Emilia Pérez)
Best Supporting Actor – Kieran Culkin (A Real Pain)
Best Casting – Anora
Best Cinematography – The Brutalist
Best Editing – Conclave
Best Costume – Wicked
Best Original Score – The Brutalist (Daniel Blumberg)
Best Production Design – Wicked
Best Sound – Dune: Part Two
Best Visual Effects – Dune: Part Two
Best British Short Film – Rock, Paper, Scissors
EE Rising Star – David Jonsson
Photographs by Greg Williams
Words by Jane Crowther