NEW YORK (AP) ā The order came before he arrived. French fries and a glass of milk.
Jonathan Majors shortly after slides into a table in the back of the bar at the Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan. On the table he places a small cup off to the side. In his backpack he has pens, a notebook he writes poetry in, a clown nose, the book heās reading (James M. Cainās āThe Postman Always Rings Twiceā) and a speaker for music. He doesnāt go anywhere without Paulo Coelhoās
Majors points to the cup. This one heās had since Yale, where he attended the graduate acting program. Itās one of four he rotates, a symbol of his motherās long-ago advice: āDonāt let anyone fill up your cup.ā And those things in his backpack? Totems not unlike the lucky stones and sticks he used to gather as a kid, he says, āto keep my frequency where I want it to be.ā
There's much in Majors' life right now buzzing at a high frequency. In the days prior to meeting a reporter, Majors had been at t He was courtside at the NBA slam dunk contest, sitting near Spike Lee. After casting Majors in āDa 5 Bloods,ā Lee took to calling him āMorehouseā for his characterās T-shirt. Now, Lee calls him āBig Time.ā
āI woke up this morning and thought: Iām very exposed. Everythingās very exposed,ā Majors says. āBut thereās also a great deal of confidence because itās like Iām ahead of it. Itās like Iām watching it in slow motion.ā
To everyone else, Majors is moving very fast, indeed. After the 33-year-old Majors has been steadily bulking up as an actor, expanding his formidable screen presence in āDevotion,ā āThe Harder They Fallā and
But 2023 is the year Majors turns heavyweigh āLovecraft Country,ā which earned him an Emmy nomination. t.
Majors is the new movies-spanning villain of Marvel-dom: the time-traveling supervillain Kang the Conqueror. He is Michael B. Jordanās friend-turned-foe in which opens Friday in theaters. And in Elijah Bynumās prize-winning Sundance entry Majors ā in a performance that could well earn him an Academy Award nomination next year ā is an amateur bodybuilder warped by childhood trauma.
Majorsā ascendance, to anyone whoās been watching, is not even a little surprising. The Texas son of a pastor, a Yale School of Drama-trained theater actor, a published poet, a classical and soulful performer, Majors is in a weight class by himself. Uncommonly sensitive as an actor, lyrical and loquacious as a person, Majors, a profound admirer of Sidney Poitier, is a rare and potent combination of serious thespian, thirsted-after hunk and devoted artist. And he's now stepping into, as Spike said, the big time. Global, magazine-cover fame is rapidly descending.
āThough Iāve not seen the boogeyman, I know itās out there,ā Majors says, smiling. āAnd Iāve been around to know itās cominā. I wonāt go down my rabbit hole of death, but itās cominā. But you outrun it. You just stay out of the frame. Iāll stay out of the frame, make my work.ā
For each role this year, Majors has physically transformed himself. A diet of six meals a day and intense workouts made him a muscular mass. Yet the eye-catching metamorphosis belies the steadfast interiority of Majors' performances. Each character ā a brawny but tender trio stretching from villain to antihero ā is leaden with pain. The discomfort is what attracted him to the roles, especially Killian Maddox of āMagazine Dreams.ā
āI was curious if I could actually do that. Not even do it. If I was brave enough to go there for myself,ā Majors says. āTo feel something thatās inside of all of us, that rage, that awkwardness, that constant heartbreak that I do carry. I canāt hide from it. I have a beautiful daughter. I have a beautiful life. But thereās something inside thatās extremely unsatisfied. Extremely.ā
Where Majorsā pain comes from and how it applies to his acting is something you canāt help watching him in āMagazine Dreamsā (Searchlight Pictures will release it later this year) or in āCreed III,ā in which he plays a man newly freed from prison after a long incarceration for a violent but justifiable crime.
Majors, who has a 9-year-old daughter, grew up poor. His family were at times briefly homeless. His father was absent for most of his life. But putting that rags-to-riches narrative ā that frame ā around his journey as an actor is something that doesn't quite fit. Majors has no āinsta-trauma,ā he says, to fuel him.
āI have no moment in my life where I go: Thatās what I pull from all the time. I was afraid of that in drama school. My dad just vanished when I was 9 years old,ā Majors says. āYeah, youāre working through that stuff. But I remember saying very clearly: Whatās going to happen when I no longer have that pain? When that thought of my dad doesnāt break my heart? Because we grow up. At some point it wonāt mist you. What are you going to do then?ā
That doesnāt mean he doesnāt still sometimes sound haunted. āHow could the best father in the world leave me? How could that happen?ā says Majors. āMy dad was a great guy. I have no bad memories of that man. I actually have no bad memories of my father, just his absence.ā
But Majorsā focus is more outward.
āWhen you open up your life ā any of us ā to the suffering of whatās really happening, it gets deep,ā he says, rattling off a list of everything from the history of slavery to the George Floyd movement to the heartache of raising a child. āAll those things break your heart if you care. And I care a great deal. I donāt know the level to which other people care because Iām not in their skin. But I know the stakes are always extremely high for me. Itās always life or death.ā
That, too, was Bynumās experience working with Majors on āMagazine Dreams." Their long talks, he says, werenāt therapy sessions. To Bynum, Majors is āa conduit for human empathy."
āThe intelligence that he has and the instincts he has an actor are one thing, and those are wonderful,ā says Bynum. āBut his understanding and feeling for people is really what separates him."
āHeās a pretty singular individual and incredibly cerebral and has been that way before any sort of attention has come his way for being that way,ā Bynum adds. He's not concerned about what fame might do to Majors, but he is worried about his schedule. āMaking another movie is going to be tough," says Bynum, "because heās locked up in Marvel Land for God knows how long.ā
But there arenāt too many in the MCU who are simultaneously publishing poetry. Majors has had and is planning to publish a collection soon. In some of them, you can see reflections of Majorsā character work. In āOn an Aeroplaneā he writes, āIt becomes clear to me/ How society converts a hero/ How the villain finds virtue.ā
āWritingās interesting because itās the subconscious made clear,ā Majors says. āYou can examine it. What poems warn you not to do is explain it. Not explaining it and living in the ellipses, you get infinite understanding. Yeah, writing is an integral part to my existence but also to crafting characters.ā
Whatās clear is that Majorsā mind is always working. Even in the background right now, in between late-show appearances and premieres, part of his focus is on his next role in an adaptation of Walter Mosleyās āThe Man in My Basement.ā The building of a character, Majors says, is gentle. But it's constant.
āI actually work very slow,ā he says. āI just donāt stop working. I am always working. And my body knows when itās go-time.ā
All the other stuff ultimately has no bearing on where Majors' head is at. To explain it, he goes back to a formative moment for him, when he realized he wanted to be in actor. It was watching his theater teacher in a Dallas regional production of āThe Last Days of Judas Iscariot.ā It struck Majors like a thunderclap how his teacher transformed with laser-like focus into someone else on stage.
āI thought: Holy smokes. I want to do that,ā says Majors. āThatās where Iām at these days. Iām not shy, but I donāt really like to be bothered. I kind of stick to my stuff. I can be out and chatting and it doesnāt take away from what Iām going to do on screen. It makes no difference.ā
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Jake Coyle, The Associated Press