トム・ベイトマン | Schön！マガジン

When you step into the world of Nia DaCosta’s ‘Hedda’, you’re welcomed into a whirlwind of preparation on a sweeping estate, followed by a lush, lavish party: a glittery array of lights and booming 1950s jazz ballads. But there is an undertone of threat to the manufactured joy — a Damocles sword waiting to drop blade-first into the proceedings — a tenseness to the air beyond the pressures of hosting for the titular Hedda, played by Tessa Thompson. While everything hinges on the night going well for Hedda’s husband George Tesman — enter Tom Bateman — there are machinations at play beyond his purview. Based on the Henrik Ibsen play ‘Hedda Gabler’, DaCosta’s film strips the play bare to create something entirely new: a tale of unrequited sapphic love, betrayal, heartache, rage, and, in George’s case, desperation.

The word “desperation” seems to strike a chord with Bateman as we chat. Referring to the notes taken during the screening to describe Tesman — desperate to succeed, desperate to hold (or rather contain) the fire that is ‘Hedda’ — George is holding so tightly onto the idea of “Hedda Tesman” that he can’t see she doesn’t truly exist. Having worked on the play for the stage several times before, Bateman discusses how refreshing it was to receive DaCosta’s script. Everything he knew about the piece was turned on its head. In other iterations of the play, he had played Eilert Lovborg, Hedda’s ex-lover, which, for the film adaptation, is now Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hoss). This ushers in a layer of queerness and, most notably, reframes the title character as a biracial Black woman existing in high society during the ’50s — changes that add additional dimensions and complexities to the film, creating an intimate character piece and a cautionary tale.

But for “poor George,” as Bateman dubs him, the actor had never played Tesman before. During his stints on stage as Lovborg, he thought of George as somewhere between sad and pathetic — perhaps both. However, now being on the other side, he finds himself empathizing with the character and describing the experience of filming as one of the best privileges of his career.

And it’s already been quite the career. Now, with ‘Hedda’ out in the world on Prime Video and select theatres, we touch on ‘The Love Hypothesis’, due in 2026. Having no sense of the entity that is social media until those infamous viral TikToks (thanks, Lili Reinhart, for your service), Bateman counts himself lucky to have been part of a project with such a passionate fanbase. Taking everything in stride with a sense of humour and grace, he’s excited to see how the film is received. But given the outpouring of love already, the odds seem in his favour.

Chatting with Schön! Magazine, Tom Bateman discusses the filming of ‘Hedda’, his passion for the original Ibsen play, locking antlers with one of his favourite actors, being the center of a TikTok viral moment, and much more.

So, my first question is a super serious one, I have to ask: who won the final game of UNO when you were filming ‘Hedda’?

[laughs] Oh man, I wish someone had kept a tally. We played so many. We should have had a tournament scoreboard. Do you know who came out of that? Finbar Lynch was a very good player. But Nicholas Pinnock had his nephew join us one evening, and he just came in like a wrecking ball, took us all to school, and won the game. I thought, “Who is this guy? Get him out of our tent.”

I love it. To jump right in, you’re familiar with the original Ibsen play and you’ve performed it on stage several times. Can you talk about reading through the script for the first time? How did you feel the play translated from stage to screen?

I think it translates amazingly to the screen. What the piece really is, is a character study — people and what makes us up, what we’re afraid of, what we want, the secrets we hold. Those things make brilliant cinematic experiences because a camera can do something that you can’t do on stage — allow an audience right up in there to see the cogs whirring in people’s minds. It was a real treat.

In terms of the script, I’d studied this text at school for A-level literature. I’ve seen it about five times in different styles and iterations. I saw Ruth Wilson perform it at the National, Ivo van Hove’s production; saw Rosamund Pike perform it. I think it’s an incredible text. But when I was asked to read it — having originally played Eilert Lovborg on stage — they said “George Tesman,” and I had an unfair image of who this man was. I always saw him as a bit stuffy and a bit of a buffoon. But what Nia (DaCosta) has done with him and every character in this piece is mature them and flesh them out into proper 3D characters. Her passion for the piece is infectious.

She had such a clear image of these characters — where she could push them and pull them, change them. I thought I knew what I was going to read when I picked up her script, and I devoured it in one sitting. I didn’t know you could do this with this play. She changed the gender of the character I’d played before — Eilert Lovborg is now Eileen Lovborg, played amazingly by Nina Hoss. It was fascinating.

Nina and I, two actors who’ve been in the play before, bonded over our love of the original text and marvelled at the fact that you can change something so huge, like the gender of one of the lead characters, and it still holds up. The themes are still there — in fact, the change deepens them. We both shared this fascination with viewing the play from a different vantage point. You see the world and characters through your character; to move to the other side of the chessboard and see the world from George’s point of view was fascinating. And Nia’s made him so interesting.

When we first met up, we talked about the piece and the film. I said what she’d done with George felt like dashes of Matthew Macfadyen’s character in Succession. Matthew Macfadyen is amazing. He treads this line between being slightly buffoonish — laughed at, not taken seriously — while underneath, he has this burning ambition, resentment, and privilege simmering away. And Nia slapped the table and said, “Oh my God, you’ve totally got it. That’s exactly the energy.” Straight from the off, we were on the same page.

One of my favourite quotes from the film is “His ambition is bigger than his pockets.” From my perspective, while George is vying for the professorship during the evening, he’s playing checkers, and Hedda is playing chess.

Oh, that’s very good.

Thank you. In addition to being ambitious, he’s desperate to keep Hedda, desperate for the new job, desperate for the evening to go well. What’s going through his head? Can you walk me through his inner turmoil throughout the film?

Completely. “Desperate” is such a good word because people act in unstable ways when they feel desperate and backed into a corner, when they feel their livelihoods and security being stripped away. That’s exactly where we find George at the beginning. He’s married this woman and thinks his path to success and security is not only guaranteed and promised, but a right. There’s an insane privilege with this man. That’s where the desperation and anger come from, because his whole world — from his point of view — is being taken from him. He’s been promised this woman and this house and this job and this lifestyle.

And throughout the piece, those things begin to get threatened. He realizes the woman he married is not going to conform or bow down to him. He’ll have to strong-arm her to help him get this position. He’s desperate for the professors’ approval. He’s threatened by Eileen Lovborg coming in and being more original, powerful, intelligent, and forward-thinking than he could ever be. She says, “Oh, this book is about the future,” and George says, “I never would have thought to write something like that.” Of course, he wouldn’t — he’s not a genius. He’s not as brilliant as she is.

Every moment of this film is wrought with that desperation to establish himself in the position he thinks he’s due. And every single thing that happens attacks that, stopping and preventing him from doing so until he unravels into this sweaty, panicked, drunk, crying version of himself about two-thirds of the way through.

The film premiered at TIFF. What was it like to be in a room with the first audience to see the finished product?

Just amazing. This film is made for the cinema and for groups of audiences. It’s so beautiful — the designers, the location, the costume, Sean Bobbitt the DP, Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score. All of it comes together to make a rich, beautiful tapestry. When I saw it for the first time, my wife and I were watching in an empty cinema, and it was beautiful.

But with a cinema full of people — whether they’re familiar with the text or completely new to ‘Hedda’ — watching them experience it for the first time was amazing. All the characters are flawed, but the title heroine is so complex. Nia keeps saying no one can ever know Hedda — it’s why we can perform her again and again. She’s mercurial — like a shadow — both in the forefront and background. We don’t truly understand her motivations, which makes her fascinating.

To witness an audience watching that for the first time was incredible. It’s a dramatic piece — melodrama in a way. I kept saying it’s like the wheels of the bus beginning to fall off just before it plummets downhill. It’s unstoppable. As an audience, you think it’s going to be a bumpy ride, but a fascinating one. To sit with them and feel their shock, surprise, confusion, rage, and laughter — that’s what great cinema should be.

I agree. There was one scene where I was so disappointed in George. He had the opportunity to stop Hedda from throwing Eileen’s manuscript into the fire. I literally said, “Please stop her.” And for half a second, you think he’s going to do something. I was rooting for him.

Oh man, I know [laughs]. We joked while making the film that it should be called Poor George. Because this poor guy. But you’re right — someone needs to stop this woman, this madness — but no one in the piece is as strong or conniving as her. When George walks in, there’s no way he’s going to stop her. He can’t; she’ll overpower him in every way. And as we see, he does try, but it’s half-hearted. She knows exactly which buttons to push to get him to bow down to her will.

She plays everyone to her tun,e and it’s both masterful and horrifying to watch. I saw during a Q&A in New York that you had two weeks to rehearse, which is unheard of in film. Can you touch on that period?

When I sat down with Nia, she insisted on a two-week rehearsal period. I was excited because you don’t get that in film. Coming from the theatre, it felt like a gift. It was an amazing period because the characters are so complex and the text is rich. There is never a moment when a character is standing idly by.

We had Sean, our DP, there with us and Nia. We rehearsed in the house we were filming in — it was dressed, and we knew what we were wearing. The first thing we rehearsed was the bedroom scene at the beginning, where Hedda and George get ready for the party. We spent hours talking about their backstory, what they want, what’s in their way, physicality, and the fact that they’re married but not tactile. How do they move? What little games can be played? How do we express George’s passive ownership — like choosing a tie and dismissing her?

It was fascinating. I almost didn’t want to start filming because we could have kept rehearsing for weeks. And then we had two weeks off for Christmas and New Year. Even during the holidays, things settled into place. An artist’s work is never done — you can rehearse for a year and still discover new things. Coming back with new ideas on top of a solid foundation was amazing.

Those big set pieces — background artists dancing and moving — weren’t there during rehearsals, so we could focus on the scripted beats quietly. Then bringing them in added atmosphere. It was one of my favourite experiences of my career. I wish every film could work that way because rehearsing is discovering. For well-written, complex pieces like this, it’s essential.

That’s incredible. Moving from ‘Hedda’, I read that you’re a bit of a foodie —

“A bit” is an understatement. If I didn’t have to talk to you right now, I’d be eating [laughter].

Would it be lasagna by any chance?

Oh my God. Always. Any Italian food. I will never turn away Italian food.

Were you able to check out any spots in Toronto?

I don’t think we did. Isn’t that terrible? That’s the thing with festivals — you’re so busy. We went out for meals, but I couldn’t name any restaurants. We were shepherded around like confused children — “Go in here, eat, talk to these people.” [laughs] What’s your favourite spot?

For Italian, Public Gardens near King Street, and the Old Spaghetti Factory by the CBC building. 

You’re an Italian fan as well, then?

Yes. Would you say Italian food is your comfort food?

I would. The culture, too, and the time they take with their food. Low and slow. Let the onions sweat, slowly build the sauce, and let it simmer. I love the time they take, and the time they take to eat and enjoy it.

We live in a fast-food culture. To respect the food and the dishes that people spent time and love making — I love that. And their wine. My God. Barolo is one of my favourite wines. I went to Barolo last year with my twin brother and his wife. We sat in a tiny town, drinking six bottles of wine between the three of us on the first day [laughs]. Asking the waiter where the bottle was from, and he points to a field of grapevines — it’s the best. Italian food is definitely my comfort food. It’s simple, perfect, full of love.

Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t touch on ‘The Love Hypothesis’.

Of course.

When I told my friends I was interviewing you, I was threatened with bodily harm to get details.

Have you read the book? Have your friends? If they’re threatening bodily harm, they must be fans.

They’re fans. I haven’t read it yet, but we’re excited. You wrapped filming about a month ago. Do you miss making the TikToks? And between you and Lili (Reinhart), who broke character first?

Do I miss making the TikToks? I don’t have social media right now. It was a world I didn’t understand. It was all done through Amazon — they wanted to reveal our casting. So we did the handshaking one. And the impact of social media hit — it smashed down my front door. I was getting messages and calls — “This is crazy.” I thought, “This is how people get their news.” But the TikToks were fun.

We leaned into the idea that I didn’t know what I was doing. It was part of the character — this grumpy guy. And Lili would go, “Come on, we’re making another one!” and drag me down the street. I’d say, “Lili, please, what are we doing?” But it made me appreciate how much people love this book. I was overwhelmed by how quickly people became enthusiastic and supportive.

The book is clearly loved. Making the film felt like making something for the fans. Often, when you make a movie, you don’t know where it will land. It was wonderful to feel excitement around what we were doing. Maybe people weren’t showing me the mean commentary [laughs]. Everyone just said, “There’s so much excitement this is happening. They’re happy you’re involved.” I had such a good time.

As for who broke character first — almost certainly me. We had so much fun. Claire Scanlon, the director, comes from a strong comedic background. Rachel Marsh and Jaboukie Young-White are so funny and quick — we’d go off script and come back. We all broke constantly.

That love is definitely felt across TikTok. One of the TikToks had 11.6 million likes.

I know. Lili came in saying the one where I pick her up with one arm — that one got something like 63 million views. It shows the enthusiasm surrounding the project. In a world with so much noise — not just film and TV — it’s comforting and exciting to feel like people will come watch this. If those 11 million people who liked it watch the film, I’ll be happy.

I feel like 3 million of those likes were my friends.

[laughter] Two of them are clicking again and again.

Moving on — I’d love to talk about Magpie. Your first time writing, producing, and being behind the camera. Did working behind the camera change the way you approach acting?

Oh my God, great questions. And bless you — I love talking about Magpie. I got to make it with my favourite human and one of my favourite actors, Daisy (Ridley). Writing for her was a privilege because I knew how brilliant she was. I knew there were things she hadn’t gotten to play yet that she could.

As actors, we’re not always given the opportunities we wish for. Talking with her about building her character and the narrative was fun. Some of my happiest writing memories were being up at 4 a.m., writing for six hours. She’d bring me coffee and I’d show her what I’d written. One morning, she read a speech and said, “Oh, I can’t wait to do that.” It filled me with joy because she responded to it, and I knew she’d smash it.

To build it from the ground up was something I never thought I’d get to do. Getting a film made is hard — you push a boulder up a hill at every stage. We didn’t have the biggest budget, but our crew and cast were so supportive. At one point, we were going to shoot, then things moved and fell apart. We had to hold for six or seven months. Every single crew member and cast member said, “We don’t care, we’ll stick around.” And they all came back. A testament to their passion.

It was fear on a whole new level because I love writing, but it’s a different medium. My mum asked, “What’s it like answering questions as a writer instead of an actor?” I said, “I’ve just settled my actor imposter syndrome and now I’m putting on a new hat.” [laughs]

Interestingly, it wasn’t my idea at the beginning. I ran with it and changed almost every aspect, but Daisy came to me with the seed of the story — this woman invading a family unit. It was interesting that of all the things I’ve written, Magpie was the first to come out. It didn’t have its genesis in my mind, but I loved her idea. And collaborating with her was a joy — doing what I love most with the person I love most.

Hopefully, more collaborations in the future!

We’re cooking them up as we speak.

You’ve said you and Daisy love a good thriller. Can you name a couple?

Do you know what we recently watched? When I was shooting ‘The Love Hypothesis’, we went to the Scotiabank cinema in Montreal a lot. We watched ‘Weapons’, which I loved.

I did. I loved it!

We saw Weapons and then Together, the Dave Franco film. We watched ‘Together’ on Friday and ‘Weapons’ on Saturday — our fill of twisted thrillers. Daisy’s visceral reaction to scary movies is hilarious — she’ll be the one screaming and laughing the loudest. It’s why I love cinema as a community experience. Those movies are great because everyone feels tense, then someone screams and breaks it. It’s a release.

I empathize with Daisy — I’m also that person.

You need those people. You’re screaming what we’re all feeling. As soon as you scream, it acknowledges the tension in the room. Did you like Weapons?

Yes! I like horror that’s more psychological than gory. I thought it was well done.

Of course. Apparently, they’re re-releasing ‘Sinners’ around Halloween, which I thought was one of the greatest movies I’ve seen in a long time. I’ll be going.

With Sinners, did you get the chance to see it in IMAX?

I did. We saw it in IMAX in the Philippines. Daisy was shooting a film out there, and I got to be there with her. It was amazing. I didn’t want it to end. It’s rare that I finish a film and want to watch it again immediately. I said, “If they looped that right now, I’d be down.”

The reason I ask is because during the initial IMAX release, they gave away film cells and… [pulls out film reel]

Oh my God, look at that! That’s amazing. No, I didn’t get one! I need it.

Fingers crossed! And my last question, rounding off with ‘Hedda’: is there a particular scene you’re proud of? And if you could sit George down, what advice would you give him?

My first advice to George would be: run. Run, my friend. Run away from every person in this play. Including yourself. Listen to the people around you, pay attention, learn, and run. Start a new life on a beach somewhere.

My favourite scene to play — and one of my favourite scenes to read — was with Nina Hoss, where she’s just given a big speech and throws a glass at someone. I barrel her out of the room. It’s a small scene, but very intense. I got to grab one of my favourite actors on the planet, Nina Hoss, and lock antlers with her. It’s a moment where all these people who wear masks finally let them slip. In that moment, George rips off his mask and says what he truly thinks: “How do you control this woman?”

There’s desperation, and I loved playing it. Nia let us play it — steady-cam, no heavy blocking. Just flowing, hitting the wall, going at each other. Staring into Nina’s eyes and trying to rip information out of her. I didn’t want it to end.

It was so visceral.

It’s who George really is. We shot it late in the film. I had done so many scenes of him pretending, keeping cool, hiding desperation and ambition. To let it out was fun. Another moment with Tessa (Thompson): when Hedda kisses Judge Brack (Nicholas Pinnock) and her lipstick is smeared — that poster shot — and George wipes the lipstick from her lips. Does he know? Does he not? Does he care? “Don’t fret,” she says. And we move on. Such a rich moment to play.

‘Hedda’ is streaming now on Amazon Prime.

photography. Kane Layland
fashion. Kyle Scott Lawson
talent. Tom Bateman
casting. Emma Fleming
grooming. Katya Thomas @ Carol Hayes Management using Dr Somji Skincare + CURLSMITH
photography assistant. Jack Chapman
fashion assistant. Aline Charlassier
production. Clara La Rosa
interview. Dana Reboe

When you step into the world of Nia DaCosta’s ‘Hedda’, you’re welcomed into a whirlwind of preparation on a sweeping estate, followed by a lush, lavish party: a glittery array of lights and booming 1950s jazz ballads. But there is an undertone of threat to the manufactured joy — a Damocles sword waiting to drop blade-first into the proceedings — a tenseness to the air beyond the pressures of hosting for the titular Hedda, played by Tessa Thompson. While everything hinges on the night going well for Hedda’s husband George Tesman — enter Tom Bateman — there are machinations at play beyond his purview. Based on the Henrik Ibsen play ‘Hedda Gabler’, DaCosta’s film strips the play bare to create something entirely new: a tale of unrequited sapphic love, betrayal, heartache, rage, and, in George’s case, desperation.

The word “desperation” seems to strike a chord with Bateman as we chat. Referring to the notes taken during the screening to describe Tesman — desperate to succeed, desperate to hold (or rather contain) the fire that is ‘Hedda’ — George is holding so tightly onto the idea of “Hedda Tesman” that he can’t see she doesn’t truly exist. Having worked on the play for the stage several times before, Bateman discusses how refreshing it was to receive DaCosta’s script. Everything he knew about the piece was turned on its head. In other iterations of the play, he had played Eilert Lovborg, Hedda’s ex-lover, which, for the film adaptation, is now Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hoss). This ushers in a layer of queerness and, most notably, reframes the title character as a biracial Black woman existing in high society during the ’50s — changes that add additional dimensions and complexities to the film, creating an intimate character piece and a cautionary tale.

But for “poor George,” as Bateman dubs him, the actor had never played Tesman before. During his stints on stage as Lovborg, he thought of George as somewhere between sad and pathetic — perhaps both. However, now being on the other side, he finds himself empathizing with the character and describing the experience of filming as one of the best privileges of his career.

And it’s already been quite the career. Now, with ‘Hedda’ out in the world on Prime Video and select theatres, we touch on ‘The Love Hypothesis’, due in 2026. Having no sense of the entity that is social media until those infamous viral TikToks (thanks, Lili Reinhart, for your service), Bateman counts himself lucky to have been part of a project with such a passionate fanbase. Taking everything in stride with a sense of humour and grace, he’s excited to see how the film is received. But given the outpouring of love already, the odds seem in his favour.

Chatting with Schön! Magazine, Tom Bateman discusses the filming of ‘Hedda’, his passion for the original Ibsen play, locking antlers with one of his favourite actors, being the center of a TikTok viral moment, and much more.

So, my first question is a super serious one, I have to ask: who won the final game of UNO when you were filming ‘Hedda’?

[laughs] Oh man, I wish someone had kept a tally. We played so many. We should have had a tournament scoreboard. Do you know who came out of that? Finbar Lynch was a very good player. But Nicholas Pinnock had his nephew join us one evening, and he just came in like a wrecking ball, took us all to school, and won the game. I thought, “Who is this guy? Get him out of our tent.”

I love it. To jump right in, you’re familiar with the original Ibsen play and you’ve performed it on stage several times. Can you talk about reading through the script for the first time? How did you feel the play translated from stage to screen?

I think it translates amazingly to the screen. What the piece really is, is a character study — people and what makes us up, what we’re afraid of, what we want, the secrets we hold. Those things make brilliant cinematic experiences because a camera can do something that you can’t do on stage — allow an audience right up in there to see the cogs whirring in people’s minds. It was a real treat.

In terms of the script, I’d studied this text at school for A-level literature. I’ve seen it about five times in different styles and iterations. I saw Ruth Wilson perform it at the National, Ivo van Hove’s production; saw Rosamund Pike perform it. I think it’s an incredible text. But when I was asked to read it — having originally played Eilert Lovborg on stage — they said “George Tesman,” and I had an unfair image of who this man was. I always saw him as a bit stuffy and a bit of a buffoon. But what Nia (DaCosta) has done with him and every character in this piece is mature them and flesh them out into proper 3D characters. Her passion for the piece is infectious.

She had such a clear image of these characters — where she could push them and pull them, change them. I thought I knew what I was going to read when I picked up her script, and I devoured it in one sitting. I didn’t know you could do this with this play. She changed the gender of the character I’d played before — Eilert Lovborg is now Eileen Lovborg, played amazingly by Nina Hoss. It was fascinating.

Nina and I, two actors who’ve been in the play before, bonded over our love of the original text and marvelled at the fact that you can change something so huge, like the gender of one of the lead characters, and it still holds up. The themes are still there — in fact, the change deepens them. We both shared this fascination with viewing the play from a different vantage point. You see the world and characters through your character; to move to the other side of the chessboard and see the world from George’s point of view was fascinating. And Nia’s made him so interesting.

When we first met up, we talked about the piece and the film. I said what she’d done with George felt like dashes of Matthew Macfadyen’s character in Succession. Matthew Macfadyen is amazing. He treads this line between being slightly buffoonish — laughed at, not taken seriously — while underneath, he has this burning ambition, resentment, and privilege simmering away. And Nia slapped the table and said, “Oh my God, you’ve totally got it. That’s exactly the energy.” Straight from the off, we were on the same page.

One of my favourite quotes from the film is “His ambition is bigger than his pockets.” From my perspective, while George is vying for the professorship during the evening, he’s playing checkers, and Hedda is playing chess.

Oh, that’s very good.

Thank you. In addition to being ambitious, he’s desperate to keep Hedda, desperate for the new job, desperate for the evening to go well. What’s going through his head? Can you walk me through his inner turmoil throughout the film?

Completely. “Desperate” is such a good word because people act in unstable ways when they feel desperate and backed into a corner, when they feel their livelihoods and security being stripped away. That’s exactly where we find George at the beginning. He’s married this woman and thinks his path to success and security is not only guaranteed and promised, but a right. There’s an insane privilege with this man. That’s where the desperation and anger come from, because his whole world — from his point of view — is being taken from him. He’s been promised this woman and this house and this job and this lifestyle.

And throughout the piece, those things begin to get threatened. He realizes the woman he married is not going to conform or bow down to him. He’ll have to strong-arm her to help him get this position. He’s desperate for the professors’ approval. He’s threatened by Eileen Lovborg coming in and being more original, powerful, intelligent, and forward-thinking than he could ever be. She says, “Oh, this book is about the future,” and George says, “I never would have thought to write something like that.” Of course, he wouldn’t — he’s not a genius. He’s not as brilliant as she is.

Every moment of this film is wrought with that desperation to establish himself in the position he thinks he’s due. And every single thing that happens attacks that, stopping and preventing him from doing so until he unravels into this sweaty, panicked, drunk, crying version of himself about two-thirds of the way through.

The film premiered at TIFF. What was it like to be in a room with the first audience to see the finished product?

Just amazing. This film is made for the cinema and for groups of audiences. It’s so beautiful — the designers, the location, the costume, Sean Bobbitt the DP, Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score. All of it comes together to make a rich, beautiful tapestry. When I saw it for the first time, my wife and I were watching in an empty cinema, and it was beautiful.

But with a cinema full of people — whether they’re familiar with the text or completely new to ‘Hedda’ — watching them experience it for the first time was amazing. All the characters are flawed, but the title heroine is so complex. Nia keeps saying no one can ever know Hedda — it’s why we can perform her again and again. She’s mercurial — like a shadow — both in the forefront and background. We don’t truly understand her motivations, which makes her fascinating.

To witness an audience watching that for the first time was incredible. It’s a dramatic piece — melodrama in a way. I kept saying it’s like the wheels of the bus beginning to fall off just before it plummets downhill. It’s unstoppable. As an audience, you think it’s going to be a bumpy ride, but a fascinating one. To sit with them and feel their shock, surprise, confusion, rage, and laughter — that’s what great cinema should be.

I agree. There was one scene where I was so disappointed in George. He had the opportunity to stop Hedda from throwing Eileen’s manuscript into the fire. I literally said, “Please stop her.” And for half a second, you think he’s going to do something. I was rooting for him.

Oh man, I know [laughs]. We joked while making the film that it should be called Poor George. Because this poor guy. But you’re right — someone needs to stop this woman, this madness — but no one in the piece is as strong or conniving as her. When George walks in, there’s no way he’s going to stop her. He can’t; she’ll overpower him in every way. And as we see, he does try, but it’s half-hearted. She knows exactly which buttons to push to get him to bow down to her will.

She plays everyone to her tun,e and it’s both masterful and horrifying to watch. I saw during a Q&A in New York that you had two weeks to rehearse, which is unheard of in film. Can you touch on that period?

When I sat down with Nia, she insisted on a two-week rehearsal period. I was excited because you don’t get that in film. Coming from the theatre, it felt like a gift. It was an amazing period because the characters are so complex and the text is rich. There is never a moment when a character is standing idly by.

We had Sean, our DP, there with us and Nia. We rehearsed in the house we were filming in — it was dressed, and we knew what we were wearing. The first thing we rehearsed was the bedroom scene at the beginning, where Hedda and George get ready for the party. We spent hours talking about their backstory, what they want, what’s in their way, physicality, and the fact that they’re married but not tactile. How do they move? What little games can be played? How do we express George’s passive ownership — like choosing a tie and dismissing her?

It was fascinating. I almost didn’t want to start filming because we could have kept rehearsing for weeks. And then we had two weeks off for Christmas and New Year. Even during the holidays, things settled into place. An artist’s work is never done — you can rehearse for a year and still discover new things. Coming back with new ideas on top of a solid foundation was amazing.

Those big set pieces — background artists dancing and moving — weren’t there during rehearsals, so we could focus on the scripted beats quietly. Then bringing them in added atmosphere. It was one of my favourite experiences of my career. I wish every film could work that way because rehearsing is discovering. For well-written, complex pieces like this, it’s essential.

That’s incredible. Moving from ‘Hedda’, I read that you’re a bit of a foodie —

“A bit” is an understatement. If I didn’t have to talk to you right now, I’d be eating [laughter].

Would it be lasagna by any chance?

Oh my God. Always. Any Italian food. I will never turn away Italian food.

Were you able to check out any spots in Toronto?

I don’t think we did. Isn’t that terrible? That’s the thing with festivals — you’re so busy. We went out for meals, but I couldn’t name any restaurants. We were shepherded around like confused children — “Go in here, eat, talk to these people.” [laughs] What’s your favourite spot?

For Italian, Public Gardens near King Street, and the Old Spaghetti Factory by the CBC building. 

You’re an Italian fan as well, then?

Yes. Would you say Italian food is your comfort food?

I would. The culture, too, and the time they take with their food. Low and slow. Let the onions sweat, slowly build the sauce, and let it simmer. I love the time they take, and the time they take to eat and enjoy it.

We live in a fast-food culture. To respect the food and the dishes that people spent time and love making — I love that. And their wine. My God. Barolo is one of my favourite wines. I went to Barolo last year with my twin brother and his wife. We sat in a tiny town, drinking six bottles of wine between the three of us on the first day [laughs]. Asking the waiter where the bottle was from, and he points to a field of grapevines — it’s the best. Italian food is definitely my comfort food. It’s simple, perfect, full of love.

Now, I’d be remiss if I didn’t touch on ‘The Love Hypothesis’.

Of course.

When I told my friends I was interviewing you, I was threatened with bodily harm to get details.

Have you read the book? Have your friends? If they’re threatening bodily harm, they must be fans.

They’re fans. I haven’t read it yet, but we’re excited. You wrapped filming about a month ago. Do you miss making the TikToks? And between you and Lili (Reinhart), who broke character first?

Do I miss making the TikToks? I don’t have social media right now. It was a world I didn’t understand. It was all done through Amazon — they wanted to reveal our casting. So we did the handshaking one. And the impact of social media hit — it smashed down my front door. I was getting messages and calls — “This is crazy.” I thought, “This is how people get their news.” But the TikToks were fun.

We leaned into the idea that I didn’t know what I was doing. It was part of the character — this grumpy guy. And Lili would go, “Come on, we’re making another one!” and drag me down the street. I’d say, “Lili, please, what are we doing?” But it made me appreciate how much people love this book. I was overwhelmed by how quickly people became enthusiastic and supportive.

The book is clearly loved. Making the film felt like making something for the fans. Often, when you make a movie, you don’t know where it will land. It was wonderful to feel excitement around what we were doing. Maybe people weren’t showing me the mean commentary [laughs]. Everyone just said, “There’s so much excitement this is happening. They’re happy you’re involved.” I had such a good time.

As for who broke character first — almost certainly me. We had so much fun. Claire Scanlon, the director, comes from a strong comedic background. Rachel Marsh and Jaboukie Young-White are so funny and quick — we’d go off script and come back. We all broke constantly.

That love is definitely felt across TikTok. One of the TikToks had 11.6 million likes.

I know. Lili came in saying the one where I pick her up with one arm — that one got something like 63 million views. It shows the enthusiasm surrounding the project. In a world with so much noise — not just film and TV — it’s comforting and exciting to feel like people will come watch this. If those 11 million people who liked it watch the film, I’ll be happy.

I feel like 3 million of those likes were my friends.

[laughter] Two of them are clicking again and again.

Moving on — I’d love to talk about Magpie. Your first time writing, producing, and being behind the camera. Did working behind the camera change the way you approach acting?

Oh my God, great questions. And bless you — I love talking about Magpie. I got to make it with my favourite human and one of my favourite actors, Daisy (Ridley). Writing for her was a privilege because I knew how brilliant she was. I knew there were things she hadn’t gotten to play yet that she could.

As actors, we’re not always given the opportunities we wish for. Talking with her about building her character and the narrative was fun. Some of my happiest writing memories were being up at 4 a.m., writing for six hours. She’d bring me coffee and I’d show her what I’d written. One morning, she read a speech and said, “Oh, I can’t wait to do that.” It filled me with joy because she responded to it, and I knew she’d smash it.

To build it from the ground up was something I never thought I’d get to do. Getting a film made is hard — you push a boulder up a hill at every stage. We didn’t have the biggest budget, but our crew and cast were so supportive. At one point, we were going to shoot, then things moved and fell apart. We had to hold for six or seven months. Every single crew member and cast member said, “We don’t care, we’ll stick around.” And they all came back. A testament to their passion.

It was fear on a whole new level because I love writing, but it’s a different medium. My mum asked, “What’s it like answering questions as a writer instead of an actor?” I said, “I’ve just settled my actor imposter syndrome and now I’m putting on a new hat.” [laughs]

Interestingly, it wasn’t my idea at the beginning. I ran with it and changed almost every aspect, but Daisy came to me with the seed of the story — this woman invading a family unit. It was interesting that of all the things I’ve written, Magpie was the first to come out. It didn’t have its genesis in my mind, but I loved her idea. And collaborating with her was a joy — doing what I love most with the person I love most.

Hopefully, more collaborations in the future!

We’re cooking them up as we speak.

You’ve said you and Daisy love a good thriller. Can you name a couple?

Do you know what we recently watched? When I was shooting ‘The Love Hypothesis’, we went to the Scotiabank cinema in Montreal a lot. We watched ‘Weapons’, which I loved.

I did. I loved it!

We saw Weapons and then Together, the Dave Franco film. We watched ‘Together’ on Friday and ‘Weapons’ on Saturday — our fill of twisted thrillers. Daisy’s visceral reaction to scary movies is hilarious — she’ll be the one screaming and laughing the loudest. It’s why I love cinema as a community experience. Those movies are great because everyone feels tense, then someone screams and breaks it. It’s a release.

I empathize with Daisy — I’m also that person.

You need those people. You’re screaming what we’re all feeling. As soon as you scream, it acknowledges the tension in the room. Did you like Weapons?

Yes! I like horror that’s more psychological than gory. I thought it was well done.

Of course. Apparently, they’re re-releasing ‘Sinners’ around Halloween, which I thought was one of the greatest movies I’ve seen in a long time. I’ll be going.

With Sinners, did you get the chance to see it in IMAX?

I did. We saw it in IMAX in the Philippines. Daisy was shooting a film out there, and I got to be there with her. It was amazing. I didn’t want it to end. It’s rare that I finish a film and want to watch it again immediately. I said, “If they looped that right now, I’d be down.”

The reason I ask is because during the initial IMAX release, they gave away film cells and… [pulls out film reel]

Oh my God, look at that! That’s amazing. No, I didn’t get one! I need it.

Fingers crossed! And my last question, rounding off with ‘Hedda’: is there a particular scene you’re proud of? And if you could sit George down, what advice would you give him?

My first advice to George would be: run. Run, my friend. Run away from every person in this play. Including yourself. Listen to the people around you, pay attention, learn, and run. Start a new life on a beach somewhere.

My favourite scene to play — and one of my favourite scenes to read — was with Nina Hoss, where she’s just given a big speech and throws a glass at someone. I barrel her out of the room. It’s a small scene, but very intense. I got to grab one of my favourite actors on the planet, Nina Hoss, and lock antlers with her. It’s a moment where all these people who wear masks finally let them slip. In that moment, George rips off his mask and says what he truly thinks: “How do you control this woman?”

There’s desperation, and I loved playing it. Nia let us play it — steady-cam, no heavy blocking. Just flowing, hitting the wall, going at each other. Staring into Nina’s eyes and trying to rip information out of her. I didn’t want it to end.

It was so visceral.

It’s who George really is. We shot it late in the film. I had done so many scenes of him pretending, keeping cool, hiding desperation and ambition. To let it out was fun. Another moment with Tessa (Thompson): when Hedda kisses Judge Brack (Nicholas Pinnock) and her lipstick is smeared — that poster shot — and George wipes the lipstick from her lips. Does he know? Does he not? Does he care? “Don’t fret,” she says. And we move on. Such a rich moment to play.

‘Hedda’ is streaming now on Amazon Prime.

photography. Kane Layland
fashion. Kyle Scott Lawson
talent. Tom Bateman
casting. Emma Fleming
grooming. Katya Thomas @ Carol Hayes Management using Dr Somji Skincare + CURLSMITH
photography assistant. Jack Chapman
fashion assistant. Aline Charlassier
production. Clara La Rosa
interview. Dana Reboe