One of the most joyful and rewarding experiences we can have as humans is the discovery of something we passionately love to do– and even better, the discovery that we’re really good at it. For Thandie Newton, that revelation came as a naïve 16-year-old on her first film set. It also came with a horrific experience of abuse. Unfortunately, and incredibly, it was not the last one dealt her by the business she loved. So she had a choice. Be a victim, or do something about it. Newton fought hard for herself, and then seemingly couldn’t stop. As she’s achieved success, she’s used her position to champion women and children not only in her industry, but throughout the world. It wasn’t easy finding her voice, but now that she has, look out. Here, she uses it in one of our most wide-ranging, honest and inspiring conversations yet.
Mark Duplass says that early on, he and his brother Jay wanted to be the Coen brothers. After 10 painful years of failure and self-doubt, he realized they were much better off being the Duplass brothers. Sticking to their shared gut got them promoted to Hollywood, where Mark found that success came with too many strings–and meetings–attached. That’s when his creative genius (he calls it “fear of making a bad movie”) turned to the business itself. What emerged was a model for making films exactly the way he wants to, while earning enough to keep making them. As they say, if you want something done right (not to mention better, faster, and cheaper) do it yourself. Could he be any happier? Yeah, probably– if we stuck him in a grimy old 110-degree shed with a drum kit and a Walkman.
Mark Duplass says that early on, he and his brother Jay wanted to be the Coen brothers. After 10 painful years of failure and self-doubt, he realized they were much better off being the Duplass brothers. Sticking to their shared gut got them promoted to Hollywood, where Mark found that success came with too many strings–and meetings–attached. That’s when his creative genius (he calls it “fear of making a bad movie”) turned to the business itself. What emerged was a model for making films exactly the way he wants to, while earning enough to keep making them. As they say, if you want something done right (not to mention better, faster, and cheaper) do it yourself. Could he be any happier? Yeah, probably– if we stuck him in a grimy old 110-degree shed with a drum kit and a Walkman.
Mark Duplass says that early on, he and his brother Jay wanted to be the Coen brothers. After 10 painful years of failure and self-doubt, he realized they were much better off being the Duplass brothers. Sticking to their shared gut got them promoted to Hollywood, where Mark found that success came with too many strings–and meetings–attached. That’s when his creative genius (he calls it “fear of making a bad movie”) turned to the business itself. What emerged was a model for making films exactly the way he wants to, while earning enough to keep making them. As they say, if you want something done right (not to mention better, faster, and cheaper) do it yourself. Could he be any happier? Yeah, probably– if we stuck him in a grimy old 110-degree shed with a drum kit and a Walkman.
You might not have recognized Ewan McGregor in his very first stage role, since he was in blackface and a turban, but it likely thrilled him as much as any role he has embodied since. The chance to do anything on a stage in front of people—even if it was just moving a chair—was magical. Some (okay, most) would say dropping out of school at 16 with no prospects or training to pursue acting was a risk. But audiences worldwide witnessed the payoff as he quickly became one of the most succesful and versatile actors around, happy and creatively fulfilled. Except for the one story he wanted so badly to tell that he gambled again—this time as a director. If it meant a Scotsman taking on the greatest living American writer, well, where there’s no risk, there’s usually no magic. And for McGregor, where there’s no magic, there’s usually no point.
You might not have recognized Ewan McGregor in his very first stage role, since he was in blackface and a turban, but it likely thrilled him as much as any role he has embodied since. The chance to do anything on a stage in front of people—even if it was just moving a chair—was magical. Some (okay, most) would say dropping out of school at 16 with no prospects or training to pursue acting was a risk. But audiences worldwide witnessed the payoff as he quickly became one of the most successful and versatile actors around, happy and creatively fulfilled. Except for the one story he wanted so badly to tell that he gambled again—this time as a director. If it meant a Scotsman taking on the greatest living American writer, well, where there’s no risk, there’s usually no magic. And for McGregor, where there’s no magic, there’s usually no point.
You might not have recognized Ewan McGregor in his very first stage role, since he was in blackface and a turban, but it likely thrilled him as much as any role he has embodied since. The chance to do anything on a stage in front of people—even if it was just moving a chair—was magical. Some (okay, most) would say dropping out of school at 16 with no prospects or training to pursue acting was a risk. But audiences worldwide witnessed the payoff as he quickly became one of the most successful and versatile actors around, happy and creatively fulfilled. Except for the one story he wanted so badly to tell that he gambled again—this time as a director. If it meant a Scotsman taking on the greatest living American writer, well, where there’s no risk, there’s usually no magic. And for McGregor, where there’s no magic, there’s usually no point.
Nick Offerman will never, ever, have enough time. But then, he’s not much inclined to put his feet up. Like most creatively restless artists, his interests abound. But for Offerman, they’re not hobbies; they’e disciplines to be studied, mastered and revered for the values they represent. Juggling it all requires defining your priorities and being clear on who you are. Parks and Recreation’s comedic secret weapon has built a career, canoes, and a soapbox for sharing lessons so simple we seem to have forgotten them. He joins us to talk about writing, ranting and why he loves his new film The Founder, despite having called its subjects “purveyors of the McShit Sandwich.” He also shares why he won’t be playing Ron Swanson knockoffs for the next 10 years. That’s fine with us, as long as he keeps playing Nick Offerman. You read on for an inspiring, thought-provoking conversation; we’re going to go build some birdhouses.
