Matthew Rhys may be seeing double this Emmy season.
That’s a position he’s been in before: In 2017, he was nominated for lead actor in a drama for The Americans (he won the trophy in 2018) — as well as guest actor in a comedy for Girls as the lecherous novelist Chuck Palmer.
History may well repeat itself this year. He was already well-positioned for a nomination as the villainous Nile Jarvis in Netflix‘s limited series The Beast in Me, which has earned him recognition from the Golden Globes, Critics Choice, and the Actor Awards. And then came the surprise buzzy hit of the spring Widow’s Bay, Apple’s comedy-horror series. Rhys stars as the town’s mayor, Tom Loftis, who comes to accept that, yes, his town may in fact be cursed — all while trying to save his son.
Gold Derby: What does it mean to you to have two series in the awards conversation this year?
Matthew Rhys: Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be discussing two shows for all of this. It’s everything you dream of, and for two such very different characters is the absolute luxury for an actor. So I’m just incredibly grateful.
What’s scarier: Nile Jarvis or the town of Widow’s Bay?
Very good question! The town of Widow’s Bay. Imagine Nile Jarvis in the town of Widow’s Bay. That would be scary. Both have their horrors to them. In playing Nile Jarvis, I could kind of see the road map, I think, to his horror. Whereas with Widow’s Bay you have no idea what it is, which makes it far scarier in a way.
Do you prefer being scared or being scary?
I did like being scary. There’s a perverse power to it, though I’m sure my three children would attest to that. And I’ll tell you what, being scared is exhausting. But seemingly over the decades, it is predominantly females who have been terrified and scared. And having to hyperventilate on film, having grown up with poor Jamie Lee Curtis hyperventilating herself through that film, [on Widow’s Bay] I was the hyperventilat-or and it’s dizzying in the literal aspect in that you feel like you’re going to pass out because you breathe so heavily.
Who’s a tougher scene partner, Jonathan Banks or Claire Danes?
Jonathan Banks is terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. And also he has that voice that come up from seemingly the depths of Mordor up through the soles of his feet and out to his voice box and you cannot help but be scared. And then he accompanies it with this incredible dry, sardonic humor offset that kind of always wrongfoots you. But when someone says action, he’s terrifying.
But more intimidating is Claire Danes, because the second, the millisecond I began rehearsing with her for The Beast in Me, a ramrod went up my back and I went, “Oh” — and I know I’ve said this in the past — “this is like playing tennis against Serena Williams.” I don’t play tennis. I imagine that’s what it’s like being served at 110 miles an hour where you’re going, “Oh, I have to return this ball.” And she comes with such focus, laser-like focus and an intensity to the parts of the scene that you immediately realize you have to return, reciprocate, in the correct way. So she sharpened my game in a way I didn’t think possible.
Each of these shows has very specific tones. You get it wrong, and neither works. How do you get the tone right, and when was the moment that you knew that you nailed it?
It’s funny, there’s a link between the two and predominantly to do with the directors. [The Beast in Me director] Antonio Campos was very shrewd in saying not to think about the tone, that the tone was for him to do with cinematography and music and the rest of it. And we had to play what was real and what was on the page. And that’s what we did. Both projects are of extremes. And so you have to land both in a very real place, otherwise the extremity becomes farce I think. And that’s what both sets of directors did very well. And I realized with Beast in Me, what I wanted to do, was road-map Nile in a real way, so that he’s not just some violent, psychotic character, but there’s a reason or seemingly for him, a justified reason as to why these things happen. He feels victimized himself. So as the writers began to road-map that in a more detailed way with Beast in Me, they said there’s this backstory that his mother died in childbirth and your father blames you for it, that kind of unlocked for me and became very real and very grounded.
And in the same vein for Widow’s Bay, [director] Hiro Murai said we’re not playing a horror or a comedy. We have created a real world with real people with real backstories, and we play it for real. And the rest is for me to figure out. It’s kind of liberating when they say that. You feel emancipated from the pressure of playing a tone.
What was the most challenging scene for you to perform in both series?
There were a couple. Dancing in The Beast in Me. Dancing in general is always a challenge for me, but especially that character. Although it’s kind of great that Nile specifically chooses “Psycho Killer” to say I’m not a killer. Would I be playing this if I was? I’m goofy and fun. I Iike to dance? I’m trying. I just want to be a friend. It’s all in good fun, which is all very well. But for me personally how does that relate into dance moves without seemingly being comedic? In fact, someone told me the other day, “I love that scene when you dance to ‘Psycho Killer.’ Your dancing was so camp.” And I was like, “Oh, that’s not what I was going for.” But to each their own. That was a challenge.
The 10-page lunch scene between myself and Claire at the beginning was certainly a challenge, not least because it was the second day of filming, and I was like this will set up who these two people are the entire series. So if this isn’t done properly, we could be in trouble. But Netflix was very wise in giving us two luxurious days to film the entire thing. So we had that time. We had that luxury of exploration, which you rarely have. And the bookend to that, the final scene in prison together, to unite and tie up in a way that felt real. They could be two people who were genuinely interested in being friends.
For Widow’s Bay, they had a number of challenging scenes. My reaction to the clown I was worried about. And then Hiro said, “Listen, in three or four scenes’ time, we’re going to see that you were dreaming.” So you have that out in a way that you can be bigger, that the audience will go, “What was that?” And then they will watch you looking back on yourself being alone. So that in itself is an escape route. So that was that was kind of glorious. And then with Hamish Linklater, you’re talking to a 300-year-old corpse, and you hope is that the audience is with you in that moment and they don’t go, “This is silly now.” So just finding those big extreme moments and landing them in a real way where an audience will follow you, those are the concerns.
Which plot twists surprised you the most?
Not necessarily what Nile did to Teddy, but the way in which he did it and where he set up the cell. I mean that to me, I was like, “Which recesses of whose dark depths did that come from?” Because that is a sinister element I couldn’t have come up with. So that was a big one. Setting up the cell in Aggie’s house, I thought, “Oh my God, that’s dark.” But then in Widow’s Bay, the final scene [redacted for spoilers!]. That was a revelation. Those were the big ones for me.
One thing that always characterizes your roles is that you always bring a sense of humanity. So how did you find the humanity in Nile, evil as he is?
It was one of the big things I went to the writers with. I said it has to be grounded in something. It can’t just be arch. He has to come from somewhere. It has to be, how do I justify this. So they were like, “Well, what if the backstory was about his lifelong seeking of approbation from his father?” The mother figure is not only gone, but he’s the reason why she’s gone. So all of a sudden, they set up this world of pain that I start seeing, he’s carrying this rage around with him. The more violent outbursts I hoped were moments of spontaneity as opposed to real premeditation. And that, to me, makes it more human and far more accessible.
And then Tom starts with a lot of humanity, and then he makes some questionable decisions.
I always give myself, for want of a more pretentious term, a super objective. So Tom’s super objective is he wants the island to flourish for his son. Therefore, everything you do is with that in mind. So he’s doggedly blinkered because he’s like, “If I ignore this, it doesn’t exist and therefore the island will flourish and so will my son.” It helps me in the motivation of why he’s being so dogmatic and going, this doesn’t exist. Tra la la, everything is fine. It just makes him a little more human. His mission in life is about something very human, which is wanting the best for your kids.
What was one thing that helped you get into character for each of the parts?
Nile’s wardrobe helped me enormously. That always helps. I know I’m stealing from Anthony Hopkins, as I do often, shoes always help. He had beautiful shoes all the time, and it just makes you feel good. The suits always helped. It just gives you a different deportment and a different kind of posture, which helped. The hair really helped. It did something very different than I’m usually used to. And then I just changed my costume and played Tom. [Laughs.] Tom reminded me of a few people from home, so he’s more an amalgamation of a few people I know. And therefore, as opposed to feeling like I’m getting into character, I just think of those four people and I get a feeling and a sense.
How much did Jaws inspire you for Widow’s Bay?
Oh, I’ve been a lifelong diehard Jaws fan since I was traumatized by it from the age of 9, so I was more upset that I wasn’t going to play Quint, who is my lifelong hero. I was like, “Stephen Root gets to play Quint?!” And they were like, “Yes.” I was like, “Can I play Quint?” And they’re like, “No, that’s him. That’s his party. You’re Brody.” I was like, “I don’t want to be Brody. I want to be Quint!” So it was hard being on the boat doing a homage to Jaws being Brody. But, you know, if I’m going to do an homage to Jaws I’m happy enough. And if anyone’s going to play Quint, no one can do it better than Root.
