For as long as she can remember, Maggie Siff has been measuring herself. It wasn’t vanity or self-obsession; she was after honest self-assessment in the name of getting better at her craft. It’s why she entered NYU grad school at 27, where the most important lesson she learned was how to deal with criticism, especially her own. Her unexpected television success since then has erased a lot of doubts, but not the eternal question of artistic fulfillment versus commercial success. Thankfully for Siff and her obvious talent, it’s no longer an either/or proposition. Join us for some talk therapy as we discuss her roles on Billions, the film that made her revisit the path not taken and the “six-month art project” that launched her TV career. She’s proven herself the serious actor she knew she could be. Now if someone would just put her in a screwball comedy.
Jerrod Carmichael grew up in Morningside Manor, which lest there be any confusion, is a far cry from Wayne Manor. His mom’s goal was just that he graduate high school. Carmichael’s goal was to have an HBO special and an NBC Thursday night TV show. Check, check and check, and he hadn’t yet exited his 20s. You could question whether primetime is ready for a standup who cites Richard Pryor, Mark Twain and Socrates as references and builds his 30-minute The Carmichael Show around transgender issues, prayer, gun control, Cosby, cheating, abuse, abortion and gentrification – “You know, just your happy sitcom stuff” – and we’re not even going to touch kale. Or, you could question why it’s taken 37 years (All in the Family’s last episode aired in 1979) to have a very adult – and very funny – conversation about it all.
Jerrod Carmichael grew up in Morningside Manor, which lest there be any confusion, is a far cry from Wayne Manor. His mom’s goal was just that he graduate high school. Carmichael’s goal was to have an HBO special and an NBC Thursday night TV show. Check, check and check, and he hadn’t yet exited his 20s. You could question whether primetime is ready for a standup who cites Richard Pryor, Mark Twain and Socrates as references and builds his 30-minute The Carmichael Show around transgender issues, prayer, gun control, Cosby, cheating, abuse, abortion and gentrification – “You know, just your happy sitcom stuff” – and we’re not even going to touch kale. Or, you could question why it’s taken 37 years (All in the Family’s last episode aired in 1979) to have a very adult – and very funny – conversation about it all.
Jerrod Carmichael grew up in Morningside Manor, which lest there be any confusion, is a far cry from Wayne Manor. His mom’s goal was just that he graduate high school. Carmichael’s goal was to have an HBO special and an NBC Thursday night TV show. Check, check and check, and he hadn’t yet exited his 20s. You could question whether primetime is ready for a standup who cites Richard Pryor, Mark Twain and Socrates as references and builds his 30-minute The Carmichael Show around transgender issues, prayer, gun control, Cosby, cheating, abuse, abortion and gentrification – “You know, just your happy sitcom stuff” – and we’re not even going to touch kale. Or, you could question why it’s taken 37 years (All in the Family’s last episode aired in 1979) to have a very adult – and very funny – conversation about it all.
It took a minute or 92 for people who watched Gillian Jacobs’ stunning performance in Don’t Think Twice to connect her with Community’s Britta Perry. That she could inhabit such different roles so believably without ever having trained in comedy or improv is a tribute to her talent. Whether it’s a tribute to Julliard is up for debate. A quirky, independent kid jettisoned by friends who saw her as a drag on their popularity, Jacobs threw herself into theater; later, Julliard almost threw her back out. It took her awhile to realize control can’t fix an alcoholic parent or a conventional performance. But eventually, the kid who comes home with gum in her hair may also come home with a stronger sense of self. We talk to Jacobs about scaring herself silly, hanging out at celeb hot spots like the La Brea Tar Pits and playing the sex and drug addicted wrecking ball Mickey on Netflix’s Love. Which we love.
It took a minute or 92 for people who watched Gillian Jacobs’ stunning performance in Don’t Think Twice to connect her with Community’s Britta Perry. That she could inhabit such different roles so believably without ever having trained in comedy or improv is a tribute to her talent. Whether it’s a tribute to Julliard is up for debate. A quirky, independent kid jettisoned by friends who saw her as a drag on their popularity, Jacobs threw herself into theater; later, Julliard almost threw her back out. It took her awhile to realize control can’t fix an alcoholic parent or a conventional performance. But eventually, the kid who comes home with gum in her hair may also come home with a stronger sense of self. We talk to Jacobs about scaring herself silly, hanging out at celeb hot spots like the La Brea Tar Pits and playing the sex and drug addicted wrecking ball Mickey on Netflix’s Love. Which we love.
It took a minute or 92 for people who watched Gillian Jacobs’ stunning performance in Don’t Think Twice to connect her with Community’s Britta Perry. That she could inhabit such different roles so believably without ever having trained in comedy or improv is a tribute to her talent. Whether it’s a tribute to Julliard is up for debate. A quirky, independent kid jettisoned by friends who saw her as a drag on their popularity, Jacobs threw herself into theater; later, Julliard almost threw her back out. It took her awhile to realize control can’t fix an alcoholic parent or a conventional performance. But eventually, the kid who comes home with gum in her hair may also come home with a stronger sense of self. We talk to Jacobs about scaring herself silly, hanging out at celeb hot spots like the La Brea Tar Pits and playing the sex and drug addicted wrecking ball Mickey on Netflix’s Love. Which we love.
Let’s face it, Kenneth Lonergan will never be the Mr. Rogers of Hollywood. He’s learned (kind of) to placate studio brass, but mourns the days when writers and directors had more artistic control (“Nobody told John Ford to make Grapes of Wrath less depressing”), and wishes he could just be left alone, trusted to deliver great films on his own timeline. After Manchester By the Sea, maybe that will finally happen. He’s proven three times now that no writer possesses a keener ear for dialogue, no director a better sense of story, and no observer of life a more merciless grip on how it really works. The subject of his films? Us. Human beings. So why are they called “small”? It’s not often we get inside the head of someone who’s given so much thought to his craft and the world he makes it in. We didn’t emerge unscathed, but we also didn’t leave without hope.
