When you start acting – and very successfully – at eight, it’s easy to be jaded, obnoxious, or in rehab by the time you’re say, 12. Elijah Wood ran the gauntlet of childhood fame unscathed (thanks, Mom), only to sign on at 18 to what no one, including Peter Jackson, knew would be one of the most massively successful cinema franchises ever. He could’ve gone a number of ways from there, the most obvious being spending the rest of his career trying to top The Lord of the Rings. But that’s not really Wood’s deal. He chooses interesting filmmakers over star-making roles, loves fulfilling his compulsion to get weird, wonderful stories out in the world, and calls Fantastic Fest his favorite week of the year. Artist? Explorer? Definitely. Calculating careerist? Not so much. “If I’d thought strategically, I might be in a different place, but I’m so happy being where I am.” For someone with no strategy, he’s one of the smartest guys we know.
When you start acting – and very successfully – at eight, it’s easy to be jaded, obnoxious, or in rehab by the time you’re say, 12. Elijah Wood ran the gauntlet of childhood fame unscathed (thanks, Mom), only to sign on at 18 to what no one, including Peter Jackson, knew would be one of the most massively successful cinema franchises ever. He could’ve gone a number of ways from there, the most obvious being spending the rest of his career trying to top The Lord of the Rings. But that’s not really Wood’s deal. He chooses interesting filmmakers over star-making roles, loves fulfilling his compulsion to get weird, wonderful stories out in the world, and calls Fantastic Fest his favorite week of the year. Artist? Explorer? Definitely. Calculating careerist? Not so much. “If I’d thought strategically, I might be in a different place, but I’m so happy being where I am.” For someone with no strategy, he’s one of the smartest guys we know.
When you start acting – and very successfully – at eight, it’s easy to be jaded, obnoxious, or in rehab by the time you’re say, 12. Elijah Wood ran the gauntlet of childhood fame unscathed (thanks, Mom), only to sign on at 18 to what no one, including Peter Jackson, knew would be one of the most massively successful cinema franchises ever. He could’ve gone a number of ways from there, the most obvious being spending the rest of his career trying to top The Lord of the Rings. But that’s not really Wood’s deal. He chooses interesting filmmakers over star-making roles, loves fulfilling his compulsion to get weird, wonderful stories out in the world, and calls Fantastic Fest his favorite week of the year. Artist? Explorer? Definitely. Calculating careerist? Not so much. “If I’d thought strategically, I might be in a different place, but I’m so happy being where I am.” For someone with no strategy, he’s one of the smartest guys we know.
Ricky Carmichael would like to be able to explain what made him The GOAT. The work – figuratively and often literally backbreaking – is a given. But how do you explain split-second instinct, something that you just do? You can’t. So motocross fans and riders everywhere just sat back and watched in awe as he won race after race. It was, after all, what he was expected to do – and did do – from the age of six. He might’ve made it look easy, but it wasn’t. Nor was it always happy. Carmichael talks about his motivation, the strategies he used to beat the best riders in the business, and his decision to retire from racing at 27 (not that there was much left for him to accomplish besides possibly paralyzing himself). Now, he’s seeking his challenges on the other side of the handlebars and finding new joy in the sport that made him a legend.
Ricky Carmichael would like to be able to explain what made him The GOAT. The work – figuratively and often literally backbreaking – is a given. But how do you explain split-second instinct, something that you just do? You can’t. So motocross fans and riders everywhere just sat back and watched in awe as he won race after race. It was, after all, what he was expected to do – and did do – from the age of six. He might’ve made it look easy, but it wasn’t. Nor was it always happy. Carmichael talks about his motivation, the strategies he used to beat the best riders in the business, and his decision to retire from racing at 27 (not that there was much left for him to accomplish besides possibly paralyzing himself). Now, he’s seeking his challenges on the other side of the handlebars and finding new joy in the sport that made him a legend.
Ricky Carmichael would like to be able to explain what made him The GOAT. The work – figuratively and often literally backbreaking – is a given. But how do you explain split-second instinct, something that you just do? You can’t. So motocross fans and riders everywhere just sat back and watched in awe as he won race after race. It was, after all, what he was expected to do – and did do – from the age of six. He might’ve made it look easy, but it wasn’t. Nor was it always happy. Carmichael talks about his motivation, the strategies he used to beat the best riders in the business, and his decision to retire from racing at 27 (not that there was much left for him to accomplish besides possibly paralyzing himself). Now, he’s seeking his challenges on the other side of the handlebars and finding new joy in the sport that made him a legend.
If you’d happened to be skulking the seamier alleyways of Albuquerque around 2008, looking to bum a 3:00 a.m. cigarette – or perhaps a more powerful stimulant – you might’ve encountered a guy who looked a lot like Aaron Paul. He was looking to score an understanding of the role that changed his life. It was one he’d fought ten Ramen-fueled years for, and he was going to give it everything he had. Extreme research, maybe, but the connection he forges to each character he embodies is so deep, we not only believe them, but feel their every blow, doubt and happiness as our own. In acting parlance, it’s called commitment. In Paul’s case, love seems the better word. He cherishes and cares for his characters as friends, and embraces his job with the joy of someone who gets to prove time and again that he’s really good at the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. We talk about his road from small-town Idaho to sin-filled L.A., his fateful audition for Breaking Bad, and The Path almost not taken. And, why you probably don’t want to mess with his mom.
If you’d happened to be skulking the seamier alleyways of Albuquerque around 2008, looking to bum a 3:00 a.m. cigarette – or perhaps a more powerful stimulant – you might’ve encountered a guy who looked a lot like Aaron Paul. He was looking to score an understanding of the role that changed his life. It was one he’d fought ten Ramen-fueled years for, and he was going to give it everything he had. Extreme research, maybe, but the connection he forges to each character he embodies is so deep, we not only believe them, but feel their every blow, doubt and happiness as our own. In acting parlance, it’s called commitment. In Paul’s case, love seems the better word. He cherishes and cares for his characters as friends, and embraces his job with the joy of someone who gets to prove time and again that he’s really good at the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. We talk about his road from small-town Idaho to sin-filled L.A., his fateful audition for Breaking Bad, and The Path almost not taken. And, why you probably don’t want to mess with his mom.
