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.
Jennifer Rose Clasen/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.Jennifer Rose Clasen/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
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.
Jennifer Rose Clasen/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
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?
Jennifer Rose Clasen/Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
Words by JANE CROWTHER Photographs by JENNIFER ROSE CLASEN/WARNER BROS. ENTERTAINMENT INC. The Alto Knights is out in cinemas now
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…
Claudette Barius/Focus Features
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.
Claudette Barius/Focus FeaturesClaudette Barius/Focus Features
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
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.
Warner Bros. PicturesWarner Bros. Pictures
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…
Warner Bros. Pictures
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.
Warner Bros. Pictures
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
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.
Roadside Attractions
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.
Roadside AttractionsRoadside Attractions
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…
Roadside Attractions
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.
Jack Lowden and Soairse RonanAdrian Brody and Pamela AndersonCynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande
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.
Ralph Fiennes and Isabella RosselliniWarick Davis and Mark HamillZoë SaldañaDavid Jonsson
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.
Celia Imrie and Naomi AckieLeo WoodallChiwetel EjioforJaques Audiard
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.
Adrian Brody
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…
Mikey Madison
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
Yes, it released last week, but chances are – amid the Captain America and Bridget Jones fanfare – you missed this Antipodean gem that lures with wide-eyed protagonists and sucker-punches with genuine feels. Though it looks on paper like a cutesy animation, this stop-motion labour of love is not designed purely for half term nippers (it’s a 15 certificate in the UK). The memoir at its core (based on writer-director Adam Elliot’s own childhood) is from Grace (Sarah Snook), who recalls her seventies upbringing as a snail-mad Aussie kid when she was orphaned and fostered, torn away from her adored brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee). While Grace lives with louche swingers, Gilbert lives with creepy evangelists – will the duo ever be reunited?
Madman Entertainment
As Grace tells her story to Sylvia, a pet snail, she covers heartbreaking experiences while in care that take in alcoholism, sexual abuse, bullying and cripping loneliness. Sounds grim? It could be without Elliot’s light touch – finding humour, moments of loveliness and claymation boobs (yep, did we mention it’s a 15?) amid the darkness. ‘Childhood was life’s best season,’ says Grace, ‘it never lasts, but everyone deserves one.’
Madman EntertainmentMadman Entertainment
A central light for Grace is her best friend, a quirky OAP called Pinky (voiced by Jackie Weaver) who smells of ginger and picks up the pieces that the self-absorbed foster parents don’t when they head off to a Swedish nudist colony. She’s a ray of sunshine – both in Grace’s life and in Weaver’s cheeky, delightful vocal work. Eric Bana also turns up in a small role that makes a mark. Tragi-comic but also profound, Memoir Of A Snail is bursting with character and meaning. The ugly-lovely clay creatures that people it may be experiencing unique hardship but the themes of self-acceptance and fortitude are universal. As is the idea that we are all like snails: carrying around our baggage beneath a shell of our own making, and unable to re-track on the route we have already travelled. Bleak but beautiful, it’s an ode to all the ways humans are messy and broken. There’s a reason Nick Cave cameos…
Madman Entertainment
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Madman Entertainment Memoir of a Snail is out now
It’s been 24 years since the world was introduced to the celluloid Miss Jones, an endearing hot mess (Renée Zellweger) who vacillated between two posh boys – one snooty (Colin Firth), one caddish (Hugh Grant) – as she negotiated adulting, big knickers and glasses of Chardonnay. And as is now standard for all beloved movies, Bridget has had some less successful sequels, a period of absence and now gets a real-time revisit. Like Ghostbusters, Top Gun: Maverick and Gladiator II, this legacy sequel reunites the original cast (despite Grant’s character being killed off in the previous film) and invites audiences to check in with their favourite characters at a later stage in their lives.
Universal Pictures/StudioCanal
As she noted in her first outing: It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces. Though Bridget happily married Mark Darcy, she’s now a single, widowed parent to two small children, four years into a crippling grief process having lost Mark (Firth touchingly appears as wish fulfilment). Her delightful Hampstead Heath house is all over the place, she’s still rubbish at cooking (burnt pasta instead of blue soup) and she pitches up at the practice of her gynecologist (Emma Thompson) with any type of ailment. But she’s muddling through with the help of friends including still-concupiscent Daniel Cleaver (‘I was dead for a bit,’ Grant shrugs) and the memories of Darcy. When concerned ‘smug marrieds’ suggest she get back into the dating game, Bridget stumbles across two possible loves: younger park ranger, the improbably-named Roxster (Leo Woodall), and ‘whistle-obsessed fascist’ teacher, Mr Wallaker (Chiwetel Ejiofor).
Like the Darcy/Cleaver love-triangle that percalates through previous movies, audiences are asked to choose for Bridget here: the doe-eyed boy who jumps into swimming pools to rescue dogs but may be emotionally immature? Or the attractively brusque teacher who understands her withdrawn son but is reserved himself? Throw in some callbacks (Bridget’s red pyjamas and her Netflix sign-in, a trip to Borough Market, Darcy’s Christmas jumper) and trademark humiliating moments (Bridget buying condoms, announcing how much sex she’s had to an audience, falling over) and it’s like no time has passed at all. But where this version of Bridget really works is leaning into unapologetic sentiment and exploring sorrow in a genuinely affecting way. Zellweger’s Bridget has always been a touchstone for women in terms of struggling to have it all, but now she’s not just juggling suitors, silly little skirts and sex. Her tussling with menopause, feelings of maternal failure and ageing hit differently, more profoundly. Combining that with Grant’s specific brand of sweet/spicy (still getting the biggest laughs with his sardonic disdain but also disarmingly vulnerable and supportive) and a tangible ache for the husband and father that is missing from the picture – and Mad About The Boy manages to equal the original film, with more emotional punch.
Universal Pictures/StudioCanal
Zellweger is still as reassuringly daffy and adorable as Bridget but layers in a relatable world weariness of a mourning woman just trying to get through a day, which works a charm in later scenes when she makes a decision about a man she might not have made in film one. Her suitors are less well-sketched – Roxster a contender for his looks in a wet t-shirt, Mr Wallaker merely by being age-appropriate – but Woodall and Ejiofor manage to breathe enough life into their roles. Meanwhile national treasures Thompson and Grant threaten to pocket the picture with brief scenes discussing lips and poetry readings respectively. Must put in diary. V. Good.
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Universal Pictures/StudioCanal Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is in UK cinemas now
Photographs by GREG WILLIAMS Interview by GREG WILLIAMS& JANE CROWTHER
A shy ‘lone wolf’, Mikey Madison is taking awards season by storm. Greg Williams hangs out with her in LA during a pivotal moment in her career.
Mikey Madison isn’t the first in her family to reach stardom or have her likeness loom over Sunset Boulevard on a giant billboard. Her grandmother’s cousin, CH Long, was the ‘Marlboro Man’ – a tough Texas cowboy who became the face of the cigarette brand and covered the August 1949 issue of Life magazine. Mikey owns a copy of the magazine and proudly shows me it when I arrive at her Los Angeles home one afternoon in November. The 25-year-old LA native is prepping for one of many stops on the awards circuit, the Elle Women In Hollywood awards – where she’ll be honoured for her searing role as an exotic dancer who won’t be ignored in Sean Baker’s Anora. CH Long and Mikey share more than DNA and a love of horses. As she has her hair and make-up done in her buzzy kitchen (her mum, sister and best friend are also prepping as guests at the event tonight), Mikey tells me about her cowboy relative. ‘He was debilitatingly shy, and didn’t like being photographed,’ she says of the Life magazine cover star. ‘But they were able to capture some interesting moments with him.’
The same is true of Mikey. After spending several days with her, I’m struck by just how different she is from the character she plays on screen. Ani, a Brighton Beach dancer and sex worker, is ballsy, loud; a big character who enjoys attention and will fight (and kick and scream) for it. Though Mikey has been working professionally as an actress since she was 16 (she was Max in five seasons of Better Things) and is able to fully inhabit psychotic killers (in Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood and 2022’s Scream) and a modern Cinderella (Anora), in person she’s quiet, shy, introspective, kind. The transformation of Mikey to Ani is striking; her performance so lived in, authentic and alive that the awards buzz started as soon as Anora premiered in Cannes last summer. Since then, the actor has been busy being feted, profiled, nominated – a supernova explosion. She invites me to spend some time with her at a point when her life is changing…
As Mikey and her family get ready for the Elle awards, she shows me around her house, which she’s curated in the four years she’s lived there to be her perfect personal space. Unused film-reel canisters from Anora sit on a sideboard in the lounge (‘Sean let me take them’), an Ani-style orange crocheted G-string covers her copy of Walt Whitman poetry on the coffee table that her handy dad hand crafted for her. (‘He also made the dining table, outdoor table and two of my side tables.’). Her impressive vinyl collection is meticulously alphabetised and her bookcase groans with volumes on artists such as Frank Lloyd Wright, Bob Dylan and Patti Smith. As she picks out Tiffany jewels to wear to the event, her rescue dog, a Chihuahua called Jam, runs around at her feet. Mikey loves animals and as she gets ready she talks of one day having a mini pony sanctuary – a place for unwanted miniature ponies to spend their days. Like her Marlboro Man relative, Mikey was a serious horsewoman before acting came calling – more of which later. For now, Mikey needs to get on her way to the Four Seasons and the Elle awards. Laughing, she lies down in the seat of the SUV so she doesn’t crease her delicate cream Ralph Lauren gown.
As we wind our way to Beverly Hills, Mikey tells me about the training she went through to physically be able to essay Ani in Anora, an accomplished pole dancer. ‘I still have my pole, but it’s in my closet because I was totally done, and the film was over. It’s so hard on your body,’ she says. ‘I did months of training, hours and hours a day. Hours of pole conditioning – you have to condition your inner thighs to grip onto the pole, because it’s very painful. We didn’t get to show what I was really able to do in the movie. [In training] I was walking on the ceiling. Would I be able to do it now? No, I would have to do more training. I haven’t done it in almost two years.’
I can’t just turn it on and off. I need to love what I do, and the characters that I play. And I know this about myself now. I’m trying to be very specific. I know that when the right project comes to me, I’ll know exactly what it is, and it’ll feel right to me
Writer/director Sean Baker wrote Anora with Mikey in mind after seeing her in Scream, making the offer to her agent immediately after walking out of the cinema. In preparation for the role, Mikey trained alongside exotic dancing expert Kennady Schneider and moved to New York to perfect her Brooklyn accent. In May 2024, Anora bowed at the Cannes Film Festival, wowing critics and netting the film the Palme d’Or. For Mikey, it was the first time she and Baker had shared their collaborative experience with the world. ‘It was very surreal. I’m not the kind of person who is able to process things immediately. I need to take time to understand exactly how I’m feeling and articulate it. I think it’s something that I’m still processing. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to get too excited for some reason, in case it goes away. But as an actress, it was a dream of mine to go to that festival, and to have our film be in that competition. It was very special.’
When we arrive at the Four Seasons, Mikey steps out of the car and into an atmosphere of celebration. After walking the red carpet she chats with Demi Moore, takes a picture with Saoirse Ronan, gossips with Julianne Moore. It seems to me that a sisterhood of actresses are welcoming her into the group. When we sit for the awards, Mikey’s mom beams with pride and rubs her back as a reel of her daughter’s work is played to the ballroom. Mikey blushes and looks down at her salad plate. At the table next to her, Tilda Swinton looks over encouragingly.
‘Every once in a while you see a performance that makes you sit up and pay attention and fall in love with an actor,’ extols Willem Dafoe onstage. He squints through the light at Mikey. ‘Such is Mikey’s performance in Anora – a beautiful, dramatic, comic performance that is funny, sly, sexy, athletic and touching…’ An actor who has worked with Baker before on The Florida Project, Dafoe is effusive in his praise, welcoming Mikey to the podium to applause. ‘I’ve always had the instinct to be an observer, always more someone on the outside looking in on life,’ she tells the room. ‘Playing Ani changed me, not just as an actress but as a person.’
The next day, away from the lights and the flashbulbs of the event, Mikey shows me round her tranquil garden featuring a massive 100-year-old cactus; ‘This is why I bought the house,’ she says. We wander into her favourite place in the house, her so-called ‘movie room’ – a cosy den with a projector and shelves filled with books and treasures. One of her prized possessions is a huge, old dictionary that she found in an estate sale and now flicks through to note the meaning of random words. Her movie collection is eclectic and large. ‘I spent a lot of time cultivating my space to where it felt like just for me, and only me. I’ll journal and stuff in here, which helps me process things a little bit more.’ As the daughter of two psychologists, it’s perhaps natural that she would journal to help sort through her experiences; her recent roles and meteoric rise to awards frontrunner must have required some processing. ‘I actually feel that as an actor I process things so quickly. You have an immediate reaction to something. I find that when I’m acting, a switch is completely flipped to where I’m so reactive, and I feel things immediately. It’s so grand and big. I don’t have that in my personal life. Maybe I’m just holding it in, in my life as Mikaela,’ she explains. ‘As an actor you get to experience so much, so many emotions, the most heightened feelings that you can feel that aren’t with this safety net underneath you. You’re making a movie. But in the moment, it’s real, and it feels real. You have this deep intimacy with people, and connection. I think that’s what I love about making movies – the connection and the intimacy that you get to have. I want that in all aspects of my life. My job is an emotional job. To me, there’s not a separation between my work and my personal life. It’s all blended together. That’s how I want it to be, because I think that’s how it makes it as meaningful as possible to me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot because people ask me why I wanted to be an actress.’
I actually feel that as an actor I process things so quickly. You have an immediate reaction to something. I find that when I’m an actor, a switch is completely flipped to where I’m so reactive, and I feel things immediately. It’s so grand and big. I don’t have that in my personal life. Maybe I’m just holding it in, in my life as Mikaela
As she straightens the books on the shelves, she considers the question now. ‘I grew up so shy, debilitatingly shy. I love people. But I’ve always been so scared of them. I was scared of that connection, and would avoid eye contact, even though I wanted it so badly. I wanted that feeling, that intimacy. I would see films or actresses living these incredible, interesting, dangerous lives on screen, and I would think that those emotions, to me, personally feel dangerous to experience for whatever reason. But I want that. I want to feel those things. And I want to do it through the character.’
I ask if acting gave her a portal to be the person that her shyer self wanted her to be. As ballsy as Anora, as fiercely aggressive as a Manson follower. ‘I think it gave me a portal to feel all the things that I was too scared to allow myself to feel, to connect with people on a deep level, a volatile level. I think at times, throughout my life, I’ve been quite passive. But I’ve never been that with the characters I play. I often play very antagonistic characters with a lot of fight, and that is not me. But I love that part of making movies – the connection. But then it’s also so devastating when it’s over. Because you fall in love with this character you’re playing. You embody her. You completely uproot your life, and go to this location, and the people you work with, they become your family and your friends or your onscreen lovers – and then it’s just over, one day. That’s so hard for me, to just walk away from that. I’ve fallen in love with people making movies – I know that happens – and when it’s over, I’m like, “What the fuck. How can that be it?” But it’s not my life. It’s the character’s life, you know?’ She bursts into laughter. ‘I assume I’m not the only one who has that experience. I mean, I think it takes a certain person to be an actor, but also I know people who can just turn it on and off. How do they do that? I don’t know. I have worked with people who have more of a Stanislavski method style of acting. It’s interesting to watch that. It’s not the way I work. I think it’s just more intuitive for me. It’s very emotion-based.’
I knew who Freud was when I was probably about 11 or 12… I’ve always had an understanding or a curiosity about people, and what makes them them, and how people’s brains work, and why they do certain things. I think I’m lucky that I grew up the way I did, because I think it’s probably one of the reasons I ended up being an actor
Later that day, we return to Beverly Hills for Mikey to do press for Anora, this time for the Golden Globes virtual press conference. She does breathing exercises with her fellow cast members before she sits for questions and wonders what Jam is doing alone at home. After the conference, there are more interviews as Mikey is asked about every aspect of the role. During promotion and awards season this is a daily routine. ‘Are you doing more press than you ever have done in your life?’ I ask. She nods and laughs, pretending to curl up and sleep in the elevator as we hustle to the next appointment. Within all of this attention, Mikey remains resolutely herself and I’m interested to understand where this groundedness comes from. The next day, I join her for breakfast at home as she makes vegan chocolate chip silver dollar pancakes. Cooking this breakfast is a comfort for her – it’s the first thing she learned to cook and she used to make blueberry pancakes for her Dad growing up. While wearing a Halloween machete on her head, dripping fake blood, Mikey mixes the batter and considers the special place she’s in right now – an actor in demand and in the process of choosing another project. One she’s hoping to fall in love with as much as she did Anora. ‘There are characters in scripts I’ve read, or people have approached me, and I would like to try to continue on that path of working with them,’ she says of possible prospects. She hasn’t, she says, worked since filming Anora. Purposefully. ‘I saved all my money from this TV show I did when I was younger. So I’m OK, you know? For me, because it’s such an emotional job, I can’t just turn it on and off. I need to love what I do, and the characters that I play. And I know this about myself now. I’m trying to be very specific. I know that when the right project comes to me, I’ll know exactly what it is, and it’ll feel right to me. But right now, I don’t know.’ A believer in manifestation, she’s trying to evoke a new opportunity by waiting, being watchful. ‘I manifest people reaching out to me. I think it’s powerful for me to write things down, and then I unconsciously work towards those things. It’s weird, because sometimes I’ve been thinking of an old friend from elementary school, and they’ll reach out to me a day later, and it’s so bizarre. It can’t just be a coincidence.’
I don’t think about myself in terms of being talented. I think that I can play a character in a deep, authentic way because I just know things about myself. If I commit to something, I’m able to tap into that particular person, and their life. The only thing I will say I’m talented at is cooking or baking. I like to feed other people, you know?
Is she manifesting a superhero movie? ‘I’ve never really acted with a green screen, and that, to me, is the biggest thing. Will I be able to connect with that? Because I like to connect with the environment. I want to feel where I am.’ She serves the pancakes and we sit down to eat. I suggest that she doesn’t appear to be motivated by money. ‘No. I just want to make enough money to have a ranch for my mini pony rescue,’ she laughs. ‘I don’t need a lot. I just want enough so that everybody feels good, and is happy. I don’t like excess. I never want a giant house. I like things like trinkets and little things, but it’s only because I’m a sentimental person. I like to fill my house with sentiment and things that make me feel a specific thing, or things from my travels. I didn’t grow up with excess. But then, when you have that sort of paycheque in front of you, that could change your life and your family’s life. How do you walk away from it, for the sake of creative integrity? I’ve never been in that position. But I can imagine that it would be difficult.’
Today, Mikey is trying on dresses for future events. She puts on a terracotta draped gown and tests it out by lounging on the couch. The Life magazine covered by her cowboy relative lies on the nearby table. She opens the magazine and reads one of C.H. Long’s quotes out from the feature ‘A Texan Holds Onto the Traditions of the West’ with photographs by Leonard McCombe. ‘I’ve had some horses,’ he says, ‘that I thought a lot more of than I do people.’ She smiles. Shyness is, she says, something of a family trait. ‘My mom is extremely shy. I asked my dad – I said, “Was I always shy?” And he said, “Yes. Even when you were a baby, you were shy.” Despite growing up in the dream-factory town, acting was not something she always aspired to. ‘I never thought that I might have a talent for it. It just felt like something that I really wanted to try. I had to try it. I don’t think about myself in terms of being talented. I think that I can play a character in a deep, authentic way because I just know things about myself. If I commit to something, I’m able to tap into that particular person, and their life. The only thing I will say I’m talented at is cooking or baking. I like to feed other people, you know?’
I’m interested to know where this sure sense of self comes from and so we hop in the car to head over the Hollywood hills to her parents’ house in the valley. This was the last home she lived in before she struck out for herself and started making an impression in cinema. She was 21 when she left. When we arrive at the house and let ourselves in we’re greeted by the family dog, Petal, a Chihuahua mix. ‘I love my silly, little Chihuahuas,’ Mikey says, lavishing love on the dog. ‘I’m getting another one, but it’s a big secret because nobody wants me to. They’re like, “You’re too busy to have another puppy.” But I can’t help it. I love them so much. I love their personality, and I love rescuing them.’
Both her parents are psychologists, with dad also pulling double duty as a psychiatrist. That and a busy house of five siblings (Mikey has a twin brother) is probably what has helped her stay level-headed in an industry that can chew up and spit out talent. ‘I knew who Freud was when I was probably about 11 or 12,’ Mikey admits. ‘I’ve always had an understanding or a curiosity about people, and what makes them them, and how people’s brains work, and why they do certain things. I think I’m lucky that I grew up the way I did, because I think it’s probably one of the reasons I ended up being an actor. I can’t judge my characters. I have to completely understand them. When I take on a character, I try not to think about it from a third-person point of view. So when I was trying to understand my character in Anora, it was really challenging to try to get to the core of her. I would write questions like someone else was asking her, “What kind of cigarettes do you smoke?” And I would answer.’
Mikey answered a lot of questions about Ani in Anora – she bought most of the character’s shoes, helped create the private dance she does (she gets a co-credit for choreography), chose the long, signature nails Ani favours, perfected the specific idiolect she speaks with. An audience member having watched the Brooklyn-accented Ani would be forgiven for being confused by Mikey’s real-life soft California cadence. ‘I’m such a California girl,’ she smiles. ‘I worked with a dialect coach, and she was great. I was like, “I just feel like it’s not specific enough.” Because I didn’t want to just sound like a classic New Yorker. I wanted it to have nuance. And so I went to Brighton Beach a month earlier than I needed to be for shooting, and I was listening to people. I was going to clubs, listening to girls. This one dancer/actress, Luna, who plays my character’s friend in the film, has this amazing voice. She had this really acute, modern way that a lot of young women speak that I love, and wanted to add into the film. I got to a place where I just felt like it lived inside of me, you could ask me to say anything, and it would just come out. I wouldn’t be reaching for certain sounds, because I think that’s the way, really, to kill a character.’ That embedding with sex workers in Brighton Beach clubs – she shadowed dancers, dressed like them – forged genuine friendships that led to Mikey hosting a screening of the film specifically for sex workers. ‘It’s one of the most important things in my life – female friendships, and my connection to other women. So it was easy for me to just connect to someone, woman to woman, even if you’re different, and you don’t understand your life. We were all just able to connect and I’ve made amazing friends.’
I was sitting on a horse before I could walk. My mom just put me in horseback riding class as an afterschool activity, and it became my whole life. I loved it. But when I was maybe 14, and we would do performances… it wasn’t fun anymore. There was a part of me that wanted something deeper – some deeper connection
Ani struggles with love in Baker’s film; what it really is, how to show it – especially in the much-debated final scene of the movie. On the ride over to the house, I had asked Mikey if she was in love herself. With trademark honesty, she answered: ‘No, I’m slightly heartbroken at the moment. In a fucked-up way, it’s kind of a good feeling, too, because at least you’re feeling something – something strong. I know that I love because I feel heartbroken. I know that I can love someone deeply. I would rather be heartbroken than to just feel fine or OK.’ She admitted to wanting ‘lots of kids, and a husband, and a white picket fence’. I can see the inspiration in her family home, full of photos and trinkets from the years of five children growing up there. Outside by the pool there’s a set of gymnastic rings, and Mikey playfully hangs from them.
Upstairs, she shows me her old bedroom, a space that’s important to her in her artistic journey. It’s unchanged from when she left home, complete with baby hats, a white metal bedstead and toddler pictures. It was here that she initially dreamt of being a professional dressage rider. ‘I was sitting on a horse before I could walk. My mom just put me in horseback riding class as an afterschool activity, and it became my whole life. I loved it. But when I was maybe 14, and we would do dressage performances… it wasn’t fun anymore. There was a part of me that wanted something deeper – some deeper connection. I don’t know if I ever thought it was an option, like, “Oh, I’ll have a career in horseback riding, or I’ll have a career as an actress.” I just knew I needed to try this. But I knew that if I tried it, I’d have to put all of myself into it, and I need to stop horseback riding.’
Taking acting classes led to her being cast at 16 as Max in FX’s Better Things, and to roles in small indie films. Around the same time, she developed an interest with the Manson family, fascinated by events that happened not far from her own house. When Quentin Tarantino was auditioning for Manson girls in his take on the story, Mikey felt she was born to play one of the roles. ‘I had no experience in film, but I love Tarantino. In the garage, I made some makeshift art studio and I decided to make a painting like I’m a Manson girl who went on an acid trip with Manson, and made this painting on the acid trip. I wrote this poem about weaving a blanket together. I cut off a big, old piece of my hair, and sewed it into the painting. I was very interested in vintage clothing. So all my clothes were from the ’60s and ’70s. So I wore this very bohemian ’60s dress. I was barefoot, and had a lot of jewellery. I went into the audition, and I read with Quentin, and I gave him this painting.’ She knew she had the role when Tarantino recalled her and the painting was on the wall of his office. She joined an ensemble cast including Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio, Margot Robbie, Austin Butler, Margaret Qualley and Lena Dunham, and filmed in the Hollywood Hills close to the real once-home of Sharon Tate. She made quite the impression as Susan Atkins, the wannabe murderer who memorably gets a tin of dog food in the face from Pitt and a torching from DiCaprio.
‘Being in a Tarantino film really opens doors for a lot of things,’ she notes as she hops up on Mum’s kitchen counter. ‘People watch it. Directors take you seriously.’ As we take a walk in the nearby hills along a track that Mikey has followed hundreds of times while growing up there, we return to the concept of such a private, shy person wanting to be incredibly vulnerable as an actor. ‘I was a big daydreamer as a kid, and I still am, but I would daydream about being different versions of myself; versions where I wasn’t shy, or I had lots of friends, or I did interesting, crazy things, and felt big emotions. I do think that me being an actor, I’m able to do those things. It gave me the feeling of not being shy. But then a part of me loves being alone. I’m very much just a lone wolf kind of person. It’s a contradiction.’
I don’t look at myself on social media. I don’t have any of that. I don’t Google anything. I don’t recognise it. So it’s always a bit of a shock to have that projected onto me. I have trouble saying it’s ‘uncomfortable’ because I would never want someone to think that I’m ungrateful. I understand the focus on the character. But me – why?
As we walk and the sun settles to golden hour, I ask her what a great day would be for her. She answers without hesitation, perhaps because in business of promotion and campaigning, personal days are rare. ‘Sleep in. Spend the day with my pets, my friends, my family. I’ll probably hang out with my brother. Go see a movie. Cooking, and eating good food. And being comfortable and cosy.’ Awards season is a marathon – how has she felt about it? A reserved person needing to go out and perform on stages, carpets and at events? ‘You know, I don’t do things to win awards. Obviously, it’s very flattering when it happens, and the conversation is nice. But I feel like it’s not a competition to make movies. It’s a celebration.
I understand that people are curious about what it feels like, and it excites people. And I recognise what a privilege it is to be in this position. But it is strange, and I feel that I have nothing to protect myself. I love talking to people about the film. It makes me happy, and I want people to see it. But it’s very vulnerable, to put yourself in that position. I’m excited to get back to the acting part of my job, you know?’
I was a big daydreamer as a kid, and I still am, but I would daydream about being different versions of myself; versions where I wasn’t shy, or I had lots of friends, or I did interesting, crazy things, and felt big emotions. I do think that me being an actor, I’m able to do those things
As dusk falls, we drive back over the hill to Hollywood. We swing by Sweet Greens salad restaurant for food (‘Very LA of us!’ she jokes) and over her vegan bowl Mikey returns to the idea of protecting herself. ‘I don’t look at myself on social media. I don’t have any of that. I don’t Google anything. I don’t recognise it. So it’s always a bit of a shock to have that projected onto me. I have trouble saying it’s “uncomfortable” because I would never want someone to think that I’m ungrateful. I understand the focus on the character. But me – why?’
Her humble nature is further evident in the ease with which she touches up her make-up in the restaurant mirror and changes into eveningwear in the public restrooms. We drive down La Brea as the billboards are lit up, see her feet-high face on the Anora poster towering over the street. She’s big news in every way. ‘It’s not really me, though, is it? It’s a version of me,’ she says. ‘I think I dissociate from that. I think I have to, and I think it’s a defence mechanism. It’s protection. I’m a trusting person. I generally believe people when they say things. But recently, a lot of people have been reaching out to me, like friends I haven’t spoken to in a long time. But I don’t think of myself as famous. I’ve never felt that, and I still don’t feel that now, because I can’t grasp what that feeling is. Is that a feeling, or is it just how people perceive you?’
I can tell when somebody is genuinely looking out for me, and I feel it. I feel it with a lot of actresses that I’ve met recently… I’ll see them, and we’ll lock eyes, and they’ll immediately kind of swoop in, grab my hand, and walk me up the steps. I can feel that they’re being protective. It’s comforting, and it’s nice, it feels safe, and they see me
We drive on to the Chateau Marmont and she curls up on a bench by the pool that has seen so many icons swim in it. I remind her of the company she was in at the Elle awards; standing on stage with actors such as Tilda Swinton, Julianne Moore, Saoirse Ronan, Zoë Saldaña, Selena Gomez and Karla Sofía Gascón. She has officially arrived. ‘I mean, it’s a nice feeling. I’m intuitive. My job is about meeting people, and deciphering emotion. I can tell when somebody is genuinely looking out for me, and I feel it. I feel it with a lot of actresses that I’ve met recently… I’ll see them, and we’ll lock eyes, and they’ll immediately kind of swoop in, grab my hand, and walk me up the steps. I can feel that they’re being protective. It’s comforting, and it’s nice, it feels safe, and they see me.’ Mikey Madison, despite that shyness she shares with the Marlboro Man, is ready to be seen.
Anora is in cinemas now Mikey wears Bottega Veneta, Chloé, Lanvin, Louis Vuitton, Ralph Lauren and Tiffany jewels
Hanging out and talking with Mikey Madison over a couple of days as she cooked breakfast pancakes, attended events and revisited her childhood home was a unique experience – and a perfect example of what Hollywood Authentic represents. Fiercely talented yet shy and incredibly honest, Mikey shared the artist at the core of her work without artifice. And it was a fascinating moment for me; I was watching a star being born. This issue is all about capturing rising raw talent. Monica Barbaro, who I last photographed at the Golden Globes during Top Gun: Maverick’s awards run, is now a formidable awards contender as Joan Baez in A Complete Unknown. Leo Woodall, who shot into our consciousness with The White Lotus, is now Bridget Jones’ possible new romantic interest. Malachi Kirby, a BAFTA winner with Mangrove, is now headlining a new binge-watch obsession. They say that luck is just a case of preparation meets opportunity. But it’s also about integrity and feeling sure that when opportunity knocks, you never miss.