Professional Documents
Culture Documents
22, 2021
Photo-Illustration: by Vulture; Photos by Shutterstock, HBO, 20th Century Fox, Universal Pictures, Netflix, Newmarket Films, A24,
New Line Cinema, FX, Sony Pictures Releasing, Paramount Pictures, Gramercy Pictures, Sony Pictures Television and Focus Features
s many have noted, a small but significant loss we’ve all faced during quarantine has been the
disappearance of the casual acquaintance. People like your roommate’s high-school friend, the
A
neighbor who took the same subway line, the co-worker you always saw in the kitchen.
These were not deep relationships, but even so, there was a comforting familiarity in
encountering the same faces on a semi-regular basis.
Fortunately, while those people who played such treasured peripheral roles in our lives have
for the moment (a year and counting) gone away, we’ve been able to turn to the people playing
treasured peripheral roles in entertainment to pick up the slack. In the era of Peak TV and the
subsequent streaming boom, character actors are working more than ever before — and since
many of us have little else to do but stare at our screens, it’s precisely these performers who
have filled the gap left by our secondary bonds. When your social circle has shrunk down to
your immediate household, the glimmer of recognition that comes from spotting a familiar
face in a movie provides more dopamine than it probably should.
That’s why this year more so than ever before, as awards season trains its spotlight once again
on actors who are accustomed to such gold-tinted attention, we felt it was vital to properly
recognize those ubiquitous yet under-acknowledged performers whose regular appearances on
our devices were one of the few joys we were afforded during lockdown. We’ll be showing our
appreciation with a week’s worth of articles devoted to hard-working bit players, beginning
here with the results of an industrywide survey we conducted to answer one simple
question: who are the most memorable character actors working today? To find out, we polled
nearly 60 directors, showrunners, casting directors, and critics — and when we tallied the
results, 32 names had emerged from a field of more than 300 suggestions.
Before we get into the list, some housekeeping: What makes an actor a character actor? Try to
pin it down, and you’ll go mad wading through counterexamples. The most obvious definition
is that a character actor is not a lead. (Frequently they’re not even the fourth-, fifth-, or sixth-
billed in the credits, either.) Except that sometimes, aging stars will do their best work in
character roles, while other character actors turn out to be stars-in-waiting. A character actor
is someone who is known for small parts, but with the abundance of cable and streaming
projects, many of them now occasionally work as co-leads, albeit in little-discussed series.
Then there are the philosophical questions: Is a character actor someone who disappears into
a role, like Bill Camp, or someone who has a distinctive presence, like Colman Domingo? Yes
and yes.
There’s a long-held notion that a character actor is someone who’s simply not attractive
enough to be a lead, an idea so ingrained that it even made its way into the Wikipedia
definition. A superficial scan of this list will quickly disabuse readers of such a belief, though
there admittedly often is an element of an actor’s face that marks the person as a character
actor, a seasoning you won’t find on the CW. As Camp told me when I interviewed him and his
wife, fellow character actor Elizabeth Marvel: “I played a lot more leads when I was younger.
But I look like Chet Baker now.” (Camp later clarified that he loves Chet Baker and was not
trying to insult him.) The best character actors take ordinariness and make it highly specific.
Think of the way Beth Grant has honed the suburban busybody to its sharpest points, or how,
with just one sigh, Michael Stuhlbarg serves up the foibles of the intelligentsia on a silver
platter.
Character actors often have a sense of timelessness to them as well. While an A-lister’s stock
may rise and fall with the fashions of the day, a character actor can stay booked and busy for
decades. For a performer, the title brings remarkable job security, especially for female
character actors, who have a different relationship with the perils of Hollywood sexism than
their more famous peers. “Often women my age are reaching a point where it’s time to find
another direction to go in,” Marvel told me, “unless you’re a character actor. And then it’s
awesome, because there’s so much fascinating work.”
While any sort of conclusive definition of a character actor is likely impossible to achieve, to
produce this list we nevertheless needed to set some firm boundaries. We came up with three
rules governing inclusion, which were shared with our survey respondents:
➼ The Jenkins Rule: If a performer has been nominated for an Oscar, that performer is
ineligible.
➼ The Hahn Rule: If a performer currently works primarily as a lead, that performer is
ineligible.
Also, the performer had to be alive, but we didn’t know who to name that one after. Too many
options!
Hiam Abbass
First role: La Nuit Miraculeuse (1989)
Although Abbass frequently appears in smaller parts in high-profile films in the West — such
as Munich, in which she played the headstrong wife of a Palestinian diplomat targeted for
assassination (and on which she also served as a consultant), or Blade Runner 2049, as the
leader of a replicant freedom movement — she has been a devastating presence in films by
international auteurs such as Palestine’s Hany Abu Assad and Israel’s Eran Riklis. In the
former’s Oscar-nominated Paradise Now (the first Best Foreign Film Oscar nominee from
Palestine — controversial at the time, in 2006, for all the reasons that you’d expect), she lent a
complicated sense of humanity to the mother of a suicide bomber.
Arguably her greatest roles have come from Riklis, however: In The Syrian Bride (2005),
Abbass conveyed outrage both righteous and comic as the headstrong, feminist sister of a
young woman whose imminent, cross-border wedding to a Syrian pop star is buried in red
tape. In the same director’s Lemon Tree (2008), she blended defiance, grief, and bewilderment
as a Palestinian widow trying to preserve her family’s lemon grove from destruction by the
Israeli Defense minister, who has moved in next door. The latter is truly one of the great
performances of its decade and rightfully won her a number of awards all around the world.
As Jean Weir on the sadly short-lived Freaks and Geeks, she is the classic nice mom who is
super-supportive of her kids and always striving to do the things that good mothers are
supposed to do. But with Baker playing Jean, the faintest wisps of melancholy trail her
through the rooms of her suburban Michigan home. Baker makes it clear in almost every
episode of that wonderful series that Jean is a nester who dreads the idea of her own being
empty.
As Loreen Horvath, mother of Lena Dunham’s Hannah on Girls, Baker is a much different
kind of mom. She’s blunt and sometimes self-involved (like mother, like daughter). In one of
the final episodes, “Gummies,” Baker is onscreen for just a handful of minutes. But as a woman
now split from her husband, forced to live alone, and prone to scarfing down cannabis gummy
worms to numb the pain, she is bitter and sad, funny and a big ol’ relatable mess. Her
performance is one of the things you remember about that episode, years later.
The common denominator in all of Baker’s performances is the sturdiness with which her
characters carry themselves, even the softer, sometimes insecure ones. From the grief-stricken,
enraged wife in the 1998 movie A Simple Plan to the wife in quarantine who wants more out of
life in the recent pandemic-set Social Distance — in which she stars opposite real-life husband
Dylan Baker — Baker breathes life again and again into women determined to persist,
something she has done for decades.
Bill Camp
First role: Freddy’s Nightmares (1989)
You Know Him From: The Night Of, The Queen’s Gambit,
The Outsider
Be Sure to Check Out: News of the World, Dark Waters,
Wildlife
Camp’s full life anchors the drama of The Queen’s Gambit, in which he takes a character that
could have felt merely functional and grounds him with a subtle kindness that comes with a
lifetime of experience. He doesn’t get much dialogue, but it’s in the way his face perks up ever
so slightly when he senses he’s sitting with a legitimate child prodigy or the worry that crosses
it when he realizes her road ahead.
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The Queen’s Gambit is only the latest. Wherever he goes, he imbues his roles with wants,
needs, and addictions that are reflected not through dialogue but body language. Look at him
in Molly’s Game, and you can sense this man’s coiled addiction in every muscle in his body. He
brings a world-weariness to his tragic character in Dark Waters, finding a physical gravity that
amplifies the human cost of corporate malfeasance. He turns what could have been merely a
lothario “other guy” role in Wildlife into something heartfelt by being genuine in every
moment. Just watch the way he listens — you can see him hear the people around him. It’s the
kind of skill that elevates what could just be another member of the cast into the kind of
character actor audiences can’t help but notice. (Little surprise, then, that he was our top vote-
getter, appearing on 20 percent of surveys.)
Jennifer Coolidge
First role: Seinfeld (1993)
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Coolidge’s work is deceptively layered and her improvisational skills unimpeachable (as one of
Guest’s regular players), but it seemed to take a long time for her comedic genius to be fully
recognized by mainstream audiences, who may have wondered if she was even acting at all. No
other actor does what Coolidge can do so well, because she’s so committed to the bit; it often
seems she slips into character during press appearances. That persona allows Coolidge to
surprise audiences when she tries something new, like the dramatic performance she gave in
Werner Herzog’s Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans in 2009.
Coolidge hasn’t stopped experimenting in her career, trying stand-up, doing voice-over work
in animation, and, lately, bringing her skill to a supporting role as a sweetly mournful mother
in current Best Picture nominee Promising Young Woman. Coolidge may have cornered the
market on delightfully bonkers blondes, but make no mistake: She can do it all.
Dale Dickey
First role: The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in
Love (1995)
It took years for Dickey to carve out a place for herself in the industry. As a struggling actor in
New York, agents often didn’t know what to do with her. She got her first break in theater
when she served brunch in New York to Steel Magnolias author Robert Harling, who decided
her southern energy was just right for his work; she eventually got a role in the Chicago
production of the play. (Dickey continues to work regularly in theater, often with southern
playwright Del Shores.) Another break came when Sean Penn cast her as a cop in his
psychological thriller The Pledge, a virtual cavalcade of notable character turns.
She’s a staggeringly good actress. Look at her turn as the sassy veteran cop RoseMarie in
Netflix’s Unbelievable, where she makes a meal out of pretty much every single line of dialogue
that she gets; she can turn the statement of a simple statistic into an existential fact. Or her
appearance as the weary but compassionate owner of a trailer park who helps the protagonists
get back on their feet in Leave No Trace, also directed by Granik. (The movies and shows don’t
even need to be all that great: She was one of the few good things about Alejandro Amenabar’s
thriller Regression.) It’s not just her tough demeanor that makes us take notice; it is her
intense unpredictability. When Dale Dickey is onscreen, anything seems possible.
Colman Domingo
First role: Around the Fire (1998)
Where You Know Him From: Euphoria, Fear the Walking
Dead, If Beale Street Could Talk, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom
But as Domingo got into his 40s, his energy slowed down, smoothed out. And he found his
calling card: a voice that was earthy and rich, the sound of cigars and good whiskey. It’s the
first thing you hear in Lincoln, even before Daniel Day-Lewis, as Domingo’s Union soldier
narrates the Battle of Jenkins’ Ferry. There’s often a comfort to his onscreen presence. In Ma
Rainey’s Black Bottom, he’s the avuncular trombone player who eases the band into each take:
“A-one, a-two, a-you know what to do.” In If Beale Street Could Talk, he’s the peacemaker, a
man who cuts through ambient anxiety with just a glass of liquor and a glint in his eye. He’s
been making the most of quarantine, setting up a virtual “Bottomless Brunch” series on
YouTube, where the principle pleasure is just relaxing into his company.
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But there’s a directness to Domingo, too — his is not the voice of a bullshitter. In Euphoria, he
plays Ali, the seen-it-all sponsor to Zendaya’s Rue. The show’s Christmas special was a bottle
episode, the pair facing off in a conversational fencing match, full of feints and parries.
Ultimately, Ali cuts through Rue’s defenses with a flurry of simple declarative statements,
including the question that finally breaks her: “How do you want your mom and sister to
remember you?” Compared to what Zendaya’s giving, Domingo’s part is far less showy, but he
carries it off with quiet certainty. The hammer can’t shape steel without the anvil.
Walton Goggins
First Role: Murder in Mississippi (1990)
Goggins has said that his first role was for the 1992 Billy Crystal film Mr. Saturday Night, in
which he played a Confederate soldier who was eventually edited out of the movie. His first
IMDb credit, though, is for a TV movie in 1990 called Murder in Mississippi, in which he
plays a racist mob member who shouts obscenities at civil-rights activists. Goggins’s career has
been shaped by his performances as baddies and white Southerners, most of whom are
hypocrites, racists, or con men. His role as Shane Vendrell on The Shield made it clear that he
can carry an almost blinding charisma onscreen, but it’s as Boyd Crowder on Justified that
Goggins has been his most indelible — he conveys viciousness and tenderness at once, and his
smile is a scale that tips between messianic self-importance and rueful cynicism.
All Goggins roles are glorious, and Justified’s Boyd Crowder will follow him forever. For a
glimpse of his range, though, and how potent he can be in an ensemble, there is no better
Goggins platform than The Righteous Gemstones, in which he plays Baby Billy Freeman. The
same things that work so well in other roles are at play again there: a character whose public
persona is a shield for lurking subterranean motives, someone who draws in people almost
incidentally, as a mere side effect of being alive. Gemstones adds something else, too. In that
role, Goggins is intense and self-absorbed but also loose-limbed. His grip on the character is
just a smidge lighter, and the result is a scene like “Misbehavin,’” in which all those stark
perpendicular lines come together in a mulleted clogging performance. It’s everything he’s best
at (weird, magnetic, vulpine) in one silly, perfect moment.
Beth Grant
First role: BJ and the Bear (1979)
Her characters aren’t all named “Mother at Farm House,” as was the case in Rain Man, but a
lot of them could be for all the dust on their hems. When To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything!
Julie Newmar needed a coterie of small-town women to get made over by drag queens, of
course they called Beth Grant’s number. When the Coen brothers needed a pinched and judgy
face to play Carla Jean’s mother in No Country for Old Men, Grant was the only choice.
She has so effectively carved out her niche in the character-actor universe that she’s achieved a
kind of kitsch appeal. Bryan Fuller kept her as a recurring totem, bringing her Marianne Marie
Beetle character from Wonderfalls to Pushing Daisies to Mockingbird Lane. Perhaps the
perfect encapsulation of Grant’s ability to communicate a character instantaneously was in a
2004 episode of Six Feet Under, where she played a religious woman mistaking escaped blow-
up sex dolls floating into the sky for the Rapture. Everything we know about a Beth Grant
character made it perfectly logical for her to chase those blow-up angels into the path of
oncoming traffic (Dorothy Sheedy, 1954–2003), a tragic yet perfect end for a woman played by
the patron saint of Middle American hysteria.
Judy Greer
First role: Early Edition (1997)
What makes Greer one of our great character actors is that she’s taken this unfortunate reality
in stride by consistently and exceptionally making the most of what she has. She’s staggeringly
prolific, amassing close to 150 credits, and these countless opportunities have given her the
chance to highlight real nuances and depth in stock characters. Films like The Wedding
Planner and 13 Going on 30 solidified her as the early-aughts go-to, must-book bubbly
sidekick. But she also possesses a once-in-a-lifetime comedic timing that is singularly and
innately unhinged. (See every time she stole a scene in Arrested Development as a boob-
flashing personal assistant.)
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More recently, she has been repeatedly cast as a housewife, or a grumpy ex-wife, or a mother
who doubles as an exposition dump. And yet for all the typecasting, these are not just a
homogeneous string of roles but distinctive characters that are a testament to her versatility.
2018’s Halloween in particular brilliantly played with familiar archetypes by having her play an
uptight mother, only to upend those expectations with a bombastic finale that gave Greer her
own triumphant Laurie Strode moment. Greer’s omnipresence in pop culture gifts us the
comfort of a familiar face, and even the most thankless roles are all the more vibrant in her
hands.
Luis Guzmán
First role: Short Eyes (1977)
He has a precise comic timing and a unique intensity that he can amplify or attenuate given
the needs of a scene. This makes him a perfect screen partner — he knows when to let stars
shine and when to steal a scene out from under them, even if they’re megawatt personalities
like Jennifer Lopez (Out of Sight), Jack Nicholson (Anger Management), and Denzel
Washington (The Bone Collector). He’s a perfect partner for writers, too: his chameleonic skill
for making written dialogue feel unscripted enables him to seem like someone you’d meet out
in the real world. (With 150 film and TV credits under his belt, he’s probably played someone
you actually have.)
McKinley Henderson is a presence deserving of center stage. He is Tony nominated for Fences,
and Stephen Adly Guirgis wrote him the complex role of a lifetime in Between Riverside and
Crazy, in which his retired-cop character loses his claim to moral certainty. But in film, he’s
largely been used at the edges, twinkling. One of his first film credits is as Bobo in an American
Playhouse production of A Raisin in the Sun, a sly little performance, one of his rare chances
to be wicked. Usually television has taken his weightiness and turned it into authority, casting
him as a judge or a psychiatrist. (He’s been two different recurring judges on two different Law
& Order franchises.) You can sense all those guardian roles in his stature and cloud of now-
white hair: We’ve been trained to find something rather paternal in the way he’s peripheral. In
Lady Bird, he’s the patient but exasperated Father Leviatch, and you often find him playing
roles called “Pops” or “Dad.”
Finally, film has started to capitalize on his other abilities, like the way his eyes can shift,
suddenly, from kindness into untrustworthiness. Alex Garland knew just how to deploy him in
the sci-fi TV show Devs, for instance, where he’s a quiet-voiced scientist. Garland uses
Henderson’s steadiness as if he’s a grenade — for the whole season, he just rolls quietly across
the floor, never hinting that he might be capable of blowing up the plot. That “Who me? A
grenade?” quality will serve him well as Thufir Hawat in the upcoming Dune. You’ll have to
look at him twice to really see him. The first time you’ll see the saint; the second time, you’ll
see the bomb.
Brian Tyree Henry
First role: Law & Order (2009)
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But his signature role might be a single, breathless scene in Barry Jenkins’s If Beale Street
Could Talk. During a carefree conversation between his character Daniel, recently released
from prison, and Daniel’s best friend Fonny (Stephan James), Henry dissolves a loud and jolly
exterior into a quiet impenetrability when the pair discuss the horrors of jail. It’s the way
Henry leverages his physique and cheerful disposition, which goes from loose to scared stiff,
that asks: What does incarceration do that would render a colossal, big-hearted Black man like
Daniel so small? And in so doing, it gives Beale Street its most haunting scene.
Greta Lee
First role: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (2006)
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In between numerous TV-show appearances, Lee has been in a handful of movies like Sisters,
Gemini, and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Post–Russian Doll’s splashy first season, Lee
has kept busy with a variety of guest appearances on shows like The Twilight Zone, What We
Do in the Shadows, and The Morning Show. That these series are so wildly different in tone
and scope underscores how Lee can thrive in just about any environment, from horror to
comedy to drama, immersing herself into whatever the role calls for her to do. She can do what
feels like dozens of takes on her famous Russian Doll line “Sweet birthday baby” and never run
out of energy. Her charisma steals scenes both small and large, which is saying something
when paired with an actor as captivating as Lyonne. But it’s a talent that comes from the
rapport she creates with her partners in any given scene — building on each other’s presences
to make every moment count.
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In Fargo, he plays Norm Gunderson, the supportive and genial husband of Marge Gunderson
(Frances McDormand), chief of police. He’s set up as a foil to the film’s more sordid men, a
model of the very opposite of toxic masculinity, and Lynch embodies that ethos with aplomb.
He wraps his arm lovingly around Marge as she takes dead-of-night calls, smiles with a
pleasure in life that recalls a benevolent moon, and moves with the steady purpose of a man
who is simply where he knows he ought to be.
But that same visage and pace, with a few small tweaks, becomes one of film’s most nightmare-
haunting villains in Zodiac. Lynch plays Arthur Leigh Allen, a prime Zodiac Killer suspect.
Lynch’s version of Allen appears both totally innocent, a man with explanations for everything,
and intensely menacing. You get the sense that there’s something twitching under his skin,
which is pulled tight to contain him. It’s unnerving for those who suspect him, but it’s equally
unnerving for the audience, whose perception of Allen’s guilt or innocence changes by the
millisecond. Lynch has said that Fincher asked him to play the character as if he were
innocent, but it’s no wonder that he’d later play a bevy of killers and creeps on American
Horror Story, including Twisty the Clown and serial murderer John Wayne Gacy.
That Lynch can morph from comforting to nerve-wracking by tweaking the energy emanating
from his limbs proves how talented of an actor he is, and it’s why we love him: When he shows
up onscreen, it’s never quite clear what we’ll get or what’s boiling beneath the surface. Lynch
looks, at the end of the day, like any guy you might pass on the street, a big but ordinary fellow
who perches on a barstool or is a partner at a law firm. But his long career in film, TV, and the
theater is a testament to his ability to harness an ordinary physicality into something
extraordinary, pulling together these poles — the menacing and the comforting, the goofy and
the deadly serious. That’s why his appearance sparks a frisson of excitement. Something very
interesting is about to happen when Lynch enters.
Jason Mantzoukas
First Screen Role: Upright Citizens Brigade (2000)
He does voices in the stuff your kids like to watch, like DuckTales and Doolittle. He does voices
in the stuff you like to watch after your kids have gone to bed, like Big Mouth. He’s a blob of
mucus in a Mucinex commercial, an extremely stressed detective on Brooklyn Nine-Nine, a
slightly skeezy weed doctor on Transparent, and a goddamned bumblebee in Dickinson.
Mantzoukas is that guy that you’re always delighted to see when he pops up somewhere, which
works out well since he is always popping up somewhere. This is ironic considering that he
first registered on many TV viewers’ radars as Rafi, the psychopathic inappropriate-comment
generator on The League, who, in the real world, you would prefer never to see anywhere. Rafi
established what has become the Mantzoukas Wheelhouse: portraying weirdos of security-
alarm-tripping proportions, a propensity that suits his large wild eyes and that raspy voice,
which can sound broish, stonerish, or genuinely philosophical depending on how it’s
calibrated. But Mantzoukas has dramatic range, too. Watch him in The Long, Dumb Road, a
2018 indie movie in which he gets the rare chance to play a lead in the form of Richard, a
strange, funny, possibly disturbed dude who hitches a ride out West with an art-school student
(Tony Revolori). You’ll laugh, you’ll feel pity, you’ll feel uncomfortable, and you’ll realize that
Jason Mantzoukas isn’t just everywhere — he’s also capable of anything.
Tzi Ma
First role: Cocaine Cowboys (1979)
Through his early work in experimental theater coupled with his study of martial arts, Ma
honed his physical abilities. His command over his body is always apparent, changing his gait
and posture for each performance, whether he’s playing a diplomat (Rush Hour), a
volcanologist (Dante’s Peak), a general (Arrival), or a fire chief (Skyscraper). This physicality,
coupled with the sheer variety of roles he’s played, brings a Shakespearean quality to his screen
presence. Ma understands that, as in Shakespeare, each role in a story is important and, no
matter the size, deserves care and attention in creating an interior world for the character to
inhabit. A master of dialects and languages, Ma has played ethnicities including Chinese,
Filipino, Vietnamese, Laotian, Taiwanese, and Japanese. Even after racking up more than 100
credits — including appearances in more than 75 different television shows — it’s as if you’re
seeing him for the first time every time he’s onscreen. As if he is that person in real life, caught
by a camera vérité, grounding and sharpening every project graced by his presence.
Elizabeth Marvel
First role: Homicide: Life on the Street (1998)
No doubt some of that command comes from her extensive background on the stage, where
she worked for years before picking up her first TV role and to which she occasionally still
returns. (She played Goneril in the gender-bent King Lear starring Glenda Jackson in 2019.)
The way she takes over a room can be intimidating, but she’s not coldly present; she’s a ball of
flames and a little unpredictable. The set of her jaw is as expressive as her eyes, which can slice
right through an errant interlocutor.
Those qualities aren’t lessened when her character isn’t in a power suit or holding a detective’s
notepad. She’s played everything from the grown-up version of Mattie in the Coens’ True Grit
to Louisa May Alcott in an American Masters documentary about the Little Women author’s
life. In period performances, she always gives off the feeling of a woman who knows her worth,
against whatever the world around her says a woman should be. And a recent performance ties
together her strengths: In the Western News of the World, Marvel plays Ella Gannett, an
innkeeper in Dallas who has a casual but long-standing relationship and genuine friendship
with Captain Kidd (Tom Hanks). She also speaks some Kiowa, the native language spoken by
the child that Kidd is protecting, and her tenderness with the child matches her affectionate
but stern admonitions to Kidd, who is running away from his past. It’s a quintessential Marvel
performance, memorable as a linchpin for the story, and embodying what makes her so
immensely watchable.
Aparna Nancherla
First role: Chloe + Zoë (2012)
She’s branched out into voice acting: leading a show like Ginger Snaps, where she played a
character desperate for a mean girl’s approval, and making guest appearances on Steven
Universe, Mira, Royal Detective, and adult animation like Bob’s Burgers and You’re Not a
Monster. Her most famous animated role has been on BoJack Horseman, where she voiced the
character of Hollyhock, BoJack’s presumed daughter who turned out to be his half-sister.
Nancherla’s performance on the show balances Hollyhock’s insecurities with her clear-eyed
view of BoJack, and she’s able to convey vulnerability and condemnation in the same breath.
But it’s in the live action realm where her gifts are most resonant. Nancherla skewered soulless
company culture in Comedy Central’s Corporate and joined Netflix’s comedy Space Force to
dunk on, well, the United States Space Force. In Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet, Nancherla
plays a dissatisfied worker at a chaotic video game studio, making her hatred of her bosses a
running punchline. She delivers cutting remarks with a no-nonsense weariness. Her
characters in these shows are simply over it, and her disdain for her enemies or roadblocks is a
way to laugh through circumstances beyond one’s control. Nancherla’s brand of humor is a
type of millennial malaise that is often felt but rarely communicated, which makes her a
perfect stand-in to dismiss the authority figures who have dismissed us.
Fred Melamed
First role: One Life to Live (1981)
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Melamed has had a sprawling career, working extensively with directors like Woody Allen and
the Coen brothers while popping up everywhere else, from TV soaps and procedurals to indie
flicks, often playing Jewish characters. He has one of those faces you just remember, if not
quite from where: bald and full-lipped, with eyes that always look just a little amused and a
beard that’s gone handsomely gray over the years. He is your high-school science teacher, your
father’s best friend, the owner of the bookstore downtown who always knows what you’re
looking for. That makes it even funnier when he’s playing a hapless or pompous character; we
all know it’s a little bit of a clown act, and the juxtaposition is what makes it work.
And he has that voice. You might know Melamed’s baritone better than his face; he’s worked as
an announcer on shows like NFL Today and voiced characters in animated shows, like Wonder
Pets! and Adventure Time, and video games, including several Grand Theft Auto installments
and Fallout 76. He’s so identified with voice-overs that in Lake Bell’s brilliant comedy In a
World he plays reigning Hollywood voice-over king Sam Soto, father to another (female)
aspiring voice-over artist. In several episodes of the short-lived sitcom The Crazy Ones, he
played a version of himself as a voice-over artist conflicted about his career.
But what might be best about Melamed is the sense that he’s always up for an adventure. In
the past decade, he’s played everything from Uncle Vanya onstage — a challenge for any actor
— to luckless but well-meaning talent manager Bruce Ben-Bacharach in Maria Bamford’s
offbeat comedy Lady Dynamite. He’s never a caricature, but he’s one of those actors who
brings the other roles you’ve seen him in to every fresh character; there’s decades of slightly
smirking, good-natured amusement in every performance.
Rob Morgan
First Role: Yes, Madame (2004)
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Morgan is great in the part, though comedy is hardly his calling card. Before he entered the
Marvel Universe, Morgan acted in short films and had bit parts in shows like 30 Rock, Blue
Bloods, and everyone’s favorite New York actor incubator, Law & Order: SVU, though in the
past decade he’s also taken on film roles in vital tales centering Black stories, among them Dee
Rees’s Pariah, Reinaldo Marcus Green’s Monsters and Men, and Daniel Destin Cretton’s Just
Mercy. In the last, surrounded by heavyweights including Michael B. Jordan and Jamie Foxx,
Morgan left an impression by navigating the psychologically complex role of a real-life
Vietnam veteran who received a death sentence for committing a heinous crime. That same
year, he played the father of the protagonist in Joe Talbot’s The Last Black Man in San
Francisco and brought memorable gravitas and lived-in wisdom to the role.
Such serious roles give an actor a lot to chew on, but Morgan never veers into cliché. The New
York Times critic A.O. Scott included Morgan on a recent list of the greatest actors of the 21st
century, praising his distinct ability to “give eloquent expression to experiences that lie outside
the main story even as they ground it in a larger history.” Indeed, Morgan has consistently
been a source of quiet intelligence on the sidelines, and as his roles get bigger — such as in
Annie Silverstein’s Bull, an intimate drama centered on his poignant starring turn as a
tortured former rodeo bull rider — that quality will serve him — and viewers — well.
Denis O’Hare
First role: The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles (1993)
A character actor would kill to sink their teeth into the kind
of role that Denis O’Hare got on the HBO vampire
bacchanal True Blood, and few deserved the opportunity
more. By the time O’Hare had begun to appear regularly on
film and in TV, he’d already made a name for himself on
Broadway, winning a Tony Award in 2003 for Take Me Out.
But by the late aughts, O’Hare started to get noticed on
screen, primarily for playing either venal influence-pushers or doctors delivering unwelcome
news. He played a cheerfully amoral political consultant on Brothers & Sisters and had a small
but crucial role in the excellent Michael Clayton as a man whose crimes George Clooney’s title
character needs to fix. Both roles showcased O’Hare’s ability to evince villainy, cut with
something more disarmingly human.
True Blood, though: It was as Russell Edgington on Alan Ball’s show that O’Hare was able to
take that particular quality to its gaudiest ends. A vampire king of refined tastes and lusty
queer appetites, Russell could have easily fallen into the cliche of the effete villain were it not
for O’Hare digging his heels into Russell’s passion, simmering rage, and biting humor. True
Blood helped springboard O’Hare into recurring roles on American Horror Story, where he
played an assortment of sad ghouls and misfits. Even in a more horror-adjacent role in the
2020 film Swallow, O’Hare nails a single-scene turn as a figure from Haley Bennett’s past who
looms terrifyingly yet mundanely in her present.
When he’s not doing backstrokes in the horror pool, O’Hare is playing functionaries with a
spark. He’s a doctor in 21 Grams, Baby Mama, Dallas Buyers Club, Changeling, The Judge,
and Private Life. He’s a CIA station chief in Charlie Wilson’s War, a Wall Street Journal editor
in A Mighty Heart, and an archbishop in Novitiate. Most memorably, he’s a judge on The Good
Wife and Fight, preoccupied with his own liberal politics, in the way that all the judges on The
Good Wife were preoccupied with their own little quirks.
O’Hare is also the rare character actor whose personal queerness is never far from the surface,
manifesting most significantly in roles like Liz Taylor in American Horror Story: Hotel or in his
Emmy-nominated performance as a returned ex-lover on This Is Us. It’s these roles that tend
to allow O’Hare to step out of the villain realm or the doctor’s coat and play layers of sadness
and regret in incredibly touching ways. He’s still managing to surprise us with a theater-
trained emotional agility in even the smallest roles.
John Ortiz
First role: Carlito’s Way (1993)
To a certain segment of film buffs, he will always be known for his electrifying turn as Jose
Yero, the calculating, simultaneously psychotic and pathetic drug lord in Michael Mann’s film
version of Miami Vice, a part to which he brought unspoken layers of jealousy, suspicion, and
thwarted ambition. (Ortiz works with Mann often, most recently as an FBI honcho in
Blackhat.) But just a couple of years later, Ortiz was one of the four leads of Philip Seymour
Hoffman’s sole directorial effort, Jack Goes Boating, as the blundering, gabby, long-suffering
limo driver Clyde, reprising a role he had originated (and mastered) onstage. It was a striking
demonstration of his range – not to mention what he’s capable of doing when Hollywood can
come up with better parts for him.
Gayle Rankin
First Role: Law & Order SVU (2012)
The role Gayle Rankin is most known for, the one that made
her an actor to pay attention to, is Sheila the She Wolf on
Netflix’s GLOW. It’s a strange role for a breakout
performance — while most characters on GLOW play their
wrestling personas for comedy in order to work out
fantasies or traumas, Sheila’s wolf persona and her real life
are inextricable. It’s a comfort blanket she cannot bring
herself to put down, ever. Rankin plays a character hiding inside another character, and it’s so
easy to imagine that performance getting lost, either by disappearing altogether inside the wolf
outfit or by pumping it up to cartoonish proportions. But Rankin holds everything in balance,
preserving Sheila’s humanity and her vulnerability while fully committing to … well, look, she’s
a woman who insists she’s actually a wolf.
Rankin is a Julliard-trained actor with a gift for adding subtle shades to starkly or simply
drawn characters, as the drummer in Her Smell or as a nurse in Meyerowitz Stories. It helps
that Rankin has a memorable face; her deep-set eyes and prominent chin present fascinating
angles on-camera, but they’re not one-note assets. As Sheila, her eyes do the work, shining out
from behind dark wolf makeup, but as Queen Victoria in The Greatest Showman, the severity
of her jawline catches the eye the most. As a grieving mother in HBO’s Perry Mason, Rankin
animates both sides of that equation. She is soft and fragile; she is steely and resilient.
There are two lesser-known Rankin performances that warrant mention. One, in the 2019
movie Blow the Man Down, has Rankin filling the role of Alexis, who could so easily be
portrayed as a depressing small-town prostitute, with rage, humanity, and self-righteousness.
The other was as Ophelia in the Public Theater’s 2017 Hamlet. In an otherwise stripped-down
production, Ophelia was given the biggest, most eye-catching set design in a drowning
sequence where she buried herself in dirt, then flooded the stage with a hose. In a production
full of other big performances (Oscar Isaac was Hamlet), it would have been easy to lose
Ophelia. But even when she eventually lay still, on a floor covered with mud and flowers,
Rankin was still the biggest presence in that room.
Lance Reddick
First Role: New York Undercover (1996)
Once Reddick got pegged as a big guy with a badge, though, it was hard to shake that image.
He has played detectives, medical examiners, FBI agents, and lieutenants in almost every
genre of TV — on Fringe he’s an agent in a science-fiction world, on Oz he’s a prestige-drama
police officer, on Paradise PD he’s an FBI agent in an animated sitcom. Even as a voice actor
on the revival of DuckTales Reddick plays a general. His physical presence is instantly striking,
a combination of his stark, bald head, his piercing eyes, and the shoulders-back, chest-forward
way he tends to move in a room. For many of his characters, it’s the voice that really resonates:
Reddick’s typical speaking voice is beautiful, and he’s able to shade in an almost gravelly
roughness when he wants to really emphasize his power.
In the past several years, though, it’s been wonderful to watch Reddick have the opportunity to
play other kinds of characters. He’s memorable as the hotel concierge Charon in the John Wick
movies and as a father on Sylvie’s Love. On American Horror Story, he attacks the role of the
Haitian spirit of the underworld character Papa Legba with relish. But to really get a sense of
Reddick’s range, you must watch his work on the Comedy Central show Corporate, in which he
plays a deranged, egomaniacal CEO who terrifies his underlings. Reddick may be best known
for learning that you cannot lose if you do not play, but if you don’t know him as the guy
begging for the global streaming rights to Gilmore Girls, you’re missing out.
Stephen Root
First role: Crocodile Dundee II (1989)
Root is a vocal chameleon, and it’s a key component to his memorable everyman roles. The
transformation is so complete that one might find themselves repeating, Wait, is that Stephen
Root? while watching almost any of his performances. Yes, that is the same actor playing the
self-effacing Milton who was also the blowhard billionaire station owner Jimmy James in
NewsRadio, and the Deep South country-radio host who sounds like he’s straight out of the
bayou in the Coen brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou?
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With a background on Broadway, and an extensive TV and film career including stints on The
West Wing, and a longtime run as one of the Coen brothers’ favorite character actors, his 256
IMDb credits are filled with lots of these fully committed high-concept character
performances. So it was a breath of fresh air to see Root in a more grounded performance in
Bill Hader’s HBO hitman dramedy Barry. His portrayal of Barry’s estranged handler Fuches is
some of his finest work to date, and his performance garnered him his first major awards
nomination at the 2019 Emmys. Barry is as much a show about the hard work of being an
actor trying to get a foothold in an impossible industry as it is about a hitman, and the creators
clearly have a reverence for those excellent character actors who consistently steal the
spotlight, no matter the size of the part. So of course they cast Root.
Lois Smith
First role: Love of Life (1951)
There are few more iconic ways to begin a career than with
a performance opposite James Dean. Following a string of
TV roles in the early ʻ50s, Lois Smith made her film debut
as a barmaid in East of Eden and has been acting
consistently ever since. Throughout her seven (!) decades as
an actress, she’s starred in plays, showed up in a range of TV shows, and made supporting
appearances in pretty much every genre of film you can imagine, from acclaimed dramas to
science fiction to erotic thrillers to coming-of-age stories and beyond. Her résumé is filled with
performances alongside decade-defining stars: In 1970, she played none other than Jack
Nicholson’s sister in the New Hollywood classic Five Easy Pieces. In more recent decades, she’s
provided counsel to Tom Cruise in Minority Report (as a scientific innovator) and Saoirse
Ronan in Lady Bird (as a Catholic-school nun).
In a rare starring role in indie director Michael Almereyda’s low-key futuristic drama Marjorie
Prime, Smith acted alongside Jon Hamm, portraying the pain of Alzheimer’s disease with
poignant subtlety rather than the tear-jerking drama that might be expected from such a role.
Considering the ageism so often faced by actors, particularly women, Smith’s consistent career
is all the more impressive — she’s continued working with a steadiness that would make most
younger actresses jealous. She embodies aging gracefully not just physically, but also in terms
of talent, and her presence is always a balm: She carries herself with the innate wisdom that
only decades of hard work mixed with natural charisma can provide, bringing a touch of
classic Hollywood charm wherever she shows up.
Michael Stuhlbarg
First role: A Price Above Rubies (1998)
Like his The Shape of Water co-star Michael Shannon, Stuhlbarg has mastered both leading
and supporting roles. He has a habit of showing up in movies and TV shows already rich with
other strong character actors, but always brings his own brand of stand-out intensity, whether
that’s a reserved intensity like the mob boss he portrayed in Boardwalk Empire or the
competitive newspaper editor in The Post. A theater veteran, Stuhlbarg knows how to tune
into subtleties — how to pose his body when delivering that quietly moving speech in Call Me
by Your Name or begging for an appointment with a rabbi in A Serious Man. Playing the
Richard Burton to Elisabeth Moss’s Elizabeth Taylor in Shirley, Stuhlberg darkens his
deceptively promising professor’s intentions and leans into his character’s hostility. It’s one of
his best talents: repressing emotions until an inevitable outburst sets his character loose, and
truly frightens you.
Stephen Tobolowsky
First role: Keep My Grave Open (1977)
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He’s ready to work, in other words, in projects big and small, long remembered or quickly
forgotten, as evidenced by a filmography currently approaching 300 entries with no evidence
of lost momentum. If that weren’t enough, Tobolowsky also has a sideline as an essayist — he’s
written several books — and podcaster via The Tobolowsky Files. Appropriately, each episode
opens with co-host David Chen plumbing Tobolowsky’s memory for details about one of his
hundreds of roles, occasionally stumping him in the process.
Yet as easy as it is to slot Tobolowsky into films requiring a scene or two with a district
attorney, doctor, or professor, he doesn’t really have a type. There’s always an X-factor to a
Tobolowsky performance, a sense that his characters have unseen depths. Sometimes those
depths appear quite dark. In a film filled with abusive brutes, Tobolowsky gets Thelma &
Louise’s most chilling moment as Max, a lawman who advises Thelma’s husband that, if she
calls, to be gentle, because “women love that shit.” It might have been a laugh line for another
actor. For Tobolowsky, it allows for a concise expression of misogyny’s ubiquity, an awful
sentiment said not by a leering trucker or one of the other nasty men the heroines meet on
their journey but by a mild-mannered guy in a suit. More often, Tobolowsky supplies an
intriguing spark that suggests his characters have rich lives beyond their sometimes fleeting
moments on the screen. It’s fitting that he’s found an audience as a storyteller drawing on his
life and career. His work is rich with the sense we all have stories to tell.
Lorraine Toussaint
First role: The Face of Rage, (1983)
A Trinidian American actress, Toussaint credits the speed of her speech, another asset, to the
former-colonized island’s British roots, as the Queen’s English, so to speak, forces otherwise
accented speakers to fully articulate their sounds. Her controlled vocal dynamics further instill
her frequent matriarchal characters with an unshakable aura. During a dinner scene from Ava
DuVernay’s Middle of Nowhere, wherein she carefully plots her character’s mood from passive
cynicism to full-throated rage, she rebukes her daughters’ shambled personal lives. And in
Julia Hart’s Fast Color, Toussaint’s best role, she instilled gravitas in three generations of
supernatural women hiding in a dystopian post-apocalyptic town. During the film’s final
scene, wherein she remains behind so her daughter and granddaughter might escape from
governmental clutches, she delivers a defiant gut punch of a monologue and a tender parting
hug to her granddaughter that pulls together all of her skills — her expressive eyes, her
measured speech, her sharp movements — for an empowering, feminine gesture.
Shea Whigham
First role: Of Love & Fantasy (1998)
You Know Him From: The Wire, Da Five Bloods, and other
Spike Lee projects
But let us not reduce Whitlock to just, well, sheeeeee-it. He has more than 100 credits on his
résumé, and he has appeared in so many shows and films you love — 25th Hour, Chappelle’s
Show, Enchanted, Veep, Atlanta, 12 (!) roles across the Law & Order franchises — that it’s
overwhelming to try and list them all. Whenever Whitlock appears onscreen, he’s magnetic;
his capacity to be charming or a bit of a snake (or both!) enables him to steal scenes when he’s
not even trying.
Watch
Early in his career, Whitlock had a very small part in GoodFellas as a doctor who convinces
Ray Liotta’s Henry Hill to pause for a checkup during his paranoid afternoon of watching
helicopters chase him. In his few seconds onscreen, he establishes one of his great skills as an
actor: an ability to persuade. No matter who he is playing, he’s always able to convince or
cajole, to offer a hand you want to shake even if you suspect his other hand is yoinking your
wallet straight from your backpocket.
Benedict Wong
First role: Screenplay (1992)
Wong excels in science-fiction films and made memorable appearances in Duncan Jones’s
Moon, Alex Garland’s Annihilation, Danny Boyle’s Sunshine (also written by Garland), and
two Ridley Scott films, The Martian and Prometheus. In a standout Prometheus moment, he
tells Idris Elba, “All due respect, captain, you’re a shit pilot” — and even Elba’s suavity is no
match for Wong’s deadpan ability to tell it like it is. It’s the kind of material that could be
boilerplate or even an afterthought but is considerably more fun to watch in the hands of a
capable and good-humored performer like Wong, whose droll, lowercase Twitter bio reads “an
actor in progress.” That clear lack of ego is part of his charm.
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Jonathan S. Frakes, Caroline Framke, Julio Vincent Gambuto, Risa Bramon Garcia, Marya E.
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Hoffman, Inkoo Kang, Gayle Keller, Danny King, Marjorie Lecker, Michelle Lewitt, Shawn
Levy, Deepa Mehta, Pavan Moondi, Mike P. Nelson, Kelly Oxford, Peggy Rajski, Dan Sallitt,
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