Luke Wilson is not an actor who works hard to grab your attention. Maybe his natural screen presence is why he plays “average guy” roles so much better than the average guy. But it’s his less mainstream work that reveals him to be a truly nuanced actor who absolutely loves what he does. Wilson’s Dallas childhood, populated with cultural figures like Jim Lehrer, writer John Graves, Richard Avedon, and his own parents, was certainly far from average. That tight, idyllic Tenenbaum-esque world included brothers Andrew and Owen and close friend Wes Anderson (Woody Harrelson, FYI—your admission request is pending). Herein, Wilson shares Sisyphean tales of making films like Bottle Rocket and Satellite Beach and his transition to playing more dramatic roles. Famously laid back, he admits there are times when winging it doesn’t pay off—like when you’re in an elevator with Gene Hackman and a falcon. Unlike his filmic cohort Dignan, Wilson never had a grand plan for his career; but when you’re making art for the purest possible reasons, you don’t really need one.
Luke Wilson is not an actor who works hard to grab your attention. Maybe his natural screen presence is why he plays “average guy” roles so much better than the average guy. But it’s his less mainstream work that reveals him to be a truly nuanced actor who absolutely loves what he does. Wilson’s Dallas childhood, populated with cultural figures like Jim Lehrer, writer John Graves, Richard Avedon, and his own parents, was certainly far from average. That tight, idyllic Tenenbaum-esque world included brothers Andrew and Owen and close friend Wes Anderson (Woody Harrelson, FYI—your admission request is pending). Herein, Wilson shares Sisyphean tales of making films like Bottle Rocket and Satellite Beach and his transition to playing more dramatic roles. Famously laid back, he admits there are times when winging it doesn’t pay off—like when you’re in an elevator with Gene Hackman and a falcon. Unlike his filmic cohort Dignan, Wilson never had a grand plan for his career; but when you’re making art for the purest possible reasons, you don’t really need one.
Luke Wilson is not an actor who works hard to grab your attention. Maybe his natural screen presence is why he plays “average guy” roles so much better than the average guy. But it’s his less mainstream work that reveals him to be a truly nuanced actor who absolutely loves what he does. Wilson’s Dallas childhood, populated with cultural figures like Jim Lehrer, writer John Graves, Richard Avedon, and his own parents, was certainly far from average. That tight, idyllic Tenenbaum-esque world included brothers Andrew and Owen and close friend Wes Anderson (Woody Harrelson, FYI—your admission request is pending). Herein, Wilson shares Sisyphean tales of making films like Bottle Rocket and Satellite Beach and his transition to playing more dramatic roles. Famously laid back, he admits there are times when winging it doesn’t pay off—like when you’re in an elevator with Gene Hackman and a falcon. Unlike his filmic cohort Dignan, Wilson never had a grand plan for his career; but when you’re making art for the purest possible reasons, you don’t really need one.
We really wanted in, just to see what goes on in there. The quick, pinging pinball machine that is Thomas Middleditch’s brain seems a veritable bouncy house of voices, characters and jokes that might spit you out exhausted and a bit queasy, but having thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Long before landing the lead on HBO’s Silicon Valley, he paid his dues in improv, sketch and standup, all while writing and making hopeful, hilarious use of the Internet. But Middleditch knows the most effective humor has bass notes of sadness, and his early years reverberated with them.
In our talk, he opens up about the effects of a rather lonely and picked-upon childhood. If he rebounded with a bit of arrogance, well, sometimes hubris is the only thing that keeps you going in the face of half-empty theaters and failed auditions. Looking back, he says he doesn’t regret a moment of his roundabout career path through the cafeterias, dog parks and high seas of comedy. To our followers, we extend an invite to board the Off Camera Fun Cruise with First Mate Tom Middleditch. To Darren Lindsay (wherever you are), we extend a kick in the arse.
We really wanted in, just to see what goes on in there. The quick, pinging pinball machine that is Thomas Middleditch’s brain seems a veritable bouncy house of voices, characters and jokes that might spit you out exhausted and a bit queasy, but having thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Long before landing the lead on HBO’s Silicon Valley, he paid his dues in improv, sketch and standup, all while writing and making hopeful, hilarious use of the Internet. But Middleditch knows the most effective humor has bass notes of sadness, and his early years reverberated with them.
In our talk, he opens up about the effects of a rather lonely and picked-upon childhood. If he rebounded with a bit of arrogance, well, sometimes hubris is the only thing that keeps you going in the face of half-empty theaters and failed auditions. Looking back, he says he doesn’t regret a moment of his roundabout career path through the cafeterias, dog parks and high seas of comedy. To our followers, we extend an invite to board the Off Camera Fun Cruise with First Mate Tom Middleditch. To Darren Lindsay (wherever you are), we extend a kick in the arse.
We really wanted in, just to see what goes on in there. The quick, pinging pinball machine that is Thomas Middleditch’s brain seems a veritable bouncy house of voices, characters and jokes that might spit you out exhausted and a bit queasy, but having thoroughly enjoyed the ride. Long before landing the lead on HBO’s Silicon Valley, he paid his dues in improv, sketch and standup, all while writing and making hopeful, hilarious use of the Internet. But Middleditch knows the most effective humor has bass notes of sadness, and his early years reverberated with them.
In our talk, he opens up about the effects of a rather lonely and picked-upon childhood. If he rebounded with a bit of arrogance, well, sometimes hubris is the only thing that keeps you going in the face of half-empty theaters and failed auditions. Looking back, he says he doesn’t regret a moment of his roundabout career path through the cafeterias, dog parks and high seas of comedy. To our followers, we extend an invite to board the Off Camera Fun Cruise with First Mate Tom Middleditch. To Darren Lindsay (wherever you are), we extend a kick in the arse.
Imogen Poots has the resume of an actor twice her age and the chops to match. When you’ve worked with Peter Bogdanovich, Terrence Malick, Richard Linklater, and Cary Fukunaga, all by the time you’re 27, your bulb would have to be sputtering pretty badly if you didn’t learn a thing or two about your craft. Poots is smart, sure, but more importantly, wise. Smart is trying to choose good projects; wise is knowing the outcome isn’t guaranteed and thriving on that uncertainty. (A good tip for surviving not only Hollywood, but life in general.) Smart is knowing the size of the bra that wardrobe hands you on day one of a shoot can signal a creative issue; wise is knowing, “You’re here on Earth for a hot second, so you may as well spend your time doing something you believe in.” Even though her career has consisted mostly of films, Poots believed in Cameron Crowe’s Roadies enough to make an open-ended commitment to a TV series, and she’s chosen well. Turns out music—albums, please—is a treasure she hoards and enjoys sparingly, wanting to preserve her sheer enjoyment of its magic. Which is kind of how we felt about this conversation.
Imogen Poots has the resume of an actor twice her age and the chops to match. When you’ve worked with Peter Bogdanovich, Terrence Malick, Richard Linklater, and Cary Fukunaga, all by the time you’re 27, your bulb would have to be sputtering pretty badly if you didn’t learn a thing or two about your craft. Poots is smart, sure, but more importantly, wise. Smart is trying to choose good projects; wise is knowing the outcome isn’t guaranteed and thriving on that uncertainty. (A good tip for surviving not only Hollywood, but life in general.) Smart is knowing the size of the bra that wardrobe hands you on day one of a shoot can signal a creative issue; wise is knowing, “You’re here on Earth for a hot second, so you may as well spend your time doing something you believe in.” Even though her career has consisted mostly of films, Poots believed in Cameron Crowe’s Roadies enough to make an open-ended commitment to a TV series, and she’s chosen well. Turns out music—albums, please—is a treasure she hoards and enjoys sparingly, wanting to preserve her sheer enjoyment of its magic. Which is kind of how we felt about this conversation.
