[Vietsub] Podcast | Talk Easy: Pedro Pascal - A Life of Dreaming

Pedro Pascal
2 followers
9 Video Views·Sep 10, 2026
AI Generated·May contain errors
Video Summary
AI GeneratedActor Pedro Pascal discusses his cinematic influences, the impact of his family's flight from the Chilean dictatorship, and his arduous path to stardom. He reflects on the emotional weight of his mother's death, the years of financial struggle supported by friends, and his eventual breakthrough in *Game of Thrones*, emphasizing the importance of resilience and human connection over ambition.
This is Talk Easy. I'm Sam Fragoso. Welcome to the show.
Today I'm joined by actor Pedro Pascal. Pedro. Si. How you feeling? I feel good.
It's nice to be here. There was no traffic and I like driving. People on a podcast love to hear
about LA people talk about driving and traffic. Historically, they love this. Well, I came over
from Venice. I do know that. It was a long way. I felt bad. I did. There was no traffic. Okay,
good. I mean, once you get to the one, let's do this. Just lean all the way in. What did you get
to? Once you get to the 110, you know, and you start to go through downtown, of course, it was
to the five. Windows down on the way over here? On the way over. Okay. And then you're playing
music. It got congested. I was actually listening to KPCC, but normally I would be listening to
music and driving kind of fast. This film, Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. It's coming
out today. Today. Yeah. What do you feel on a day like this? Do you wake up nervous? I don't know
how to feel about it because it's never been the same. It's always been, at least through my
experience, what seems like unique and different than how I would have expected it to be or feel
like how I fantasized about it as a kid or as an unworking actor. Because today, this would be like
the first thing that I've done that is not coming out on a streaming service or during the pandemic
or with me actually in town. It's like a movie out in the world. People have to go to theaters
to see it. Yeah. How they used to do them. Yeah. And we're still sort of figuring out how to do
that again. So I don't know what normal is, obviously, but none of it exists in the realm
of what my expectations or fears would be. So it sort of eliminates any kind of expectation because
I'm like, I don't know what the hell is going on in this bonus planet anymore.
I'm going to go do a podcast today and there's no traffic. There's no traffic. There's no,
does that mean nobody's going to the movies? It's good to just bring it back to yourself.
There's no, there's no traffic. Does that mean my film is bombing?
People aren't going to the nine 30 showing. Does that mean that the movie that I have a
supporting role in and people say actors are narcissists and they're not, they're just not,
they're just, they're like you, you're, you're selfless. Exactly. Exactly. I'm thinking about
traffic. I'm thinking about the movies. People, please go see the movie for his sake. Yeah.
Seriously. Go see this movie. Come on. In this film, you play a super fan of Nicholas Cage
who offers Nicholas Cage, the actor in the film, a million dollars to show up to his 40th birthday
party in Spain. Now in the film, Nick Cage is playing a version of himself as actor Nicholas
Cage. You are playing, I think a slight version of yourself as someone who actually is a massive
fan of Nicholas Cage. Yeah. I think that, um, because of what my timeline is specifically,
I was born in 75. We got cable television pretty early. So there were some of his early movies
on HBO. And, and then my father loved to go to the movies. He would take us to the movies a lot.
On cable, you would watch Valley girl, birdie racing with the moon. Exactly. Rumble fish.
Valley girl in particular, because what do you have? It's kind of like this sort of, um,
dyed reddish fuchsia hair. Right. What was crazy about that was if you think about it now,
it was cool to be in the Valley and then those crazy delinquents on the other side of the Hill
in like the cool part of town in Hollywood, like having real lives. Those were the, you know,
she was just really slumming it, but yeah. So sort of absorbing these kinds of movies, very young,
this is a different time. My parents were very young. We were really kind of unsupervised a lot
of the time. As far as TV was concerned, there weren't too many rules. It took a lot to send us
out of the room. It took them not liking the movie to send you out of the room. Exactly.
There were two movies really that I remember very vividly having like a huge impact on me
and both of them, because I didn't know what we were going to go see often already at a young age.
I was like, I want to see this, or I knew what we were going to go. And I had an expectation
around it, but I remember Peggy Sue got married. I had no idea what it is. What could it possibly
be with a title like that? I had no idea it was directed by Francis Ford Coppola.
And the other one was Raising Arizona. And I had no idea. I'd never seen, I'd actually like
tried to see Blood Simple because the trailer had appeared before some movie I saw when I was a
child and it looked so scary and so visually cool. I like the image of a nine-year-old Pedro
thinking, yeah, I want to see the Coen Brothers directorial debut. I'm telling you. Get me in
here. And I remember like, you know, on drives and stuff like that, because there was this kind
of, I just remember this sequel. I was really into scary, thriller-y ---- when I was a kid
and am still now, but I don't know, he was like burying a body out in some
Texas field or something like that. That's the kind of thing a kid wants to see.
I just, I guess it was just all the drama that I was after. I don't know. I remember thinking
about the trailer. Did not connect it to when we saw Raising Arizona. And at the start of Raising
Arizona, I remember thinking that the whole first few minutes was a trailer for this phenomenal
movie. I'd never seen anything like that and had that sort of visual voluptuousness. It was just
like, what is this? And then the title blazed in and I was like, oh, this is the movie.
So anyway, they were very impressionable films very, very early with not normal performances
from this actor. Yeah. Kind of big bombastic pieces. Big swings that shouldn't work and work
incredibly. They almost work in spite of themselves. Like they're so big that
they become kind of undeniable. Yeah. But if you see them again, it isn't about
these performances being big. It's just completely stylized, but also really truthful. I mean,
look, I have been kissing this ass so much. I know, but I mean it. I really thought you're
going to say, and I'm tired of it. I'm tired. I'm tired of listening to myself in terms of
the earnestness around this issue where I guess my favorite thing in life has always been movies.
And then going back and reviewing these performances, I guess I've been able to
really ponder what it meant to me as a kid, seeing something like that for the first time,
because it really holds up. It is everything that I would want to be able to pull off
as an actor is do something completely theatrical and there be so much truth and skill and
believability in the performance.
Nathaniel I think the thing you're hitting on, though,
is that purity that he seems to have in performing. And I want to kind of understand
the pure place from which I think you started to love movies. So as you said, you were born in
Chile. Your parents, Veronica and Jose, were young liberals in their 20s combating a sort of
militaristic regime in that country at the time. They flee, they receive asylum in the
Venezuelan embassy. Then they go to Denmark, and then in 1976, you're one years old,
and then you land in San Antonio?
Nathaniel I was nine months old when we left Chile.
We were in Denmark like under a year, and we ended up in San Antonio.
Nathaniel At what point in your childhood do you
begin to understand the origin story of where you came from?
It's hard to piece together because I know that my sister and I went back to Chile
without our parents because our parents weren't allowed back. I've got an enormous family from
both sides. And there, visually, the way that I saw it, the presence of what had happened,
the fact that my sister and I were the only two out of 34 first cousins, all living in
Santiago, Chile, that we were the only two, that we were these unique members of the family
being embraced and taken care of with our parents thousands of miles away.
So I started to develop a real fear of camouflaged military guards with machine guns
that were monitoring. It's not like they were everywhere or anything like that. I'm sure that
was a sort of normalcy of lifestyle that was achieved for all of my cousins, the ones that
are older than me that basically essentially grew up under a military dictatorship. And yet,
the visual of that knowing somehow at such a young age that if my parents were there,
they would take them away and maybe kill them, the way that that lived almost like a kind of
supernatural presence in my imagination was so weird. And then we watched so many movies,
and I remember seeing Indiana Jones running across the playing field with Karen Allen in that white
dress. Karen Allen looked so much like my mother. And so I started to imagine things like that,
like my father and mother hand in hand running as they were being shot at across a dusty sort of
airplane field. What do you call it?
Well, you said earlier that and being interested in Blood Simple,
you were searching for a kind of drama, which is kind of surprising considering
where you come from. The drama is kind of built in.
Yeah. And we're not talking about it either. There was a very dramatic-
You and your parents aren't talking about it?
No, no, not at all. Nor any of the family members that made it over to us in Texas from Chile. And
there was a very dramatic moment in our house when I was a child because of this Costa Gravas
movie called Missing with Sissy Spacek and Jack Lemmon, which deals with the military
dictatorship in Chile at the time. It's a true story where an American journalist went missing
and was found dead. I remember watching this at home on cable, and there was a moment where
Sissy Spacek's character, she doesn't make it home before curfew, and she just kind of gets
trapped in the city. And again, sort of a beautiful, small framed woman that reminded me
so much of my mother and how to sort of project these kinds of images of my mother into these
character circumstances. And I just remember completely falling apart when she was in
danger and when she was so afraid. And imagining that that could have happened to my mother,
I remember having a little bit of a breakdown.
Well, it's almost like in the house, no one in the family talked about it.
And it took a film from Hollywood to kind of give language to something
no one was giving language to.
Yeah. And I could sit through anything at the time, and I remember just starting to cry and
being like, I can't watch this. And I was like, gosh, I don't know, I must have been like eight.
You're asking me like I know.
Yeah. How old was I?
Maybe eight. That sounds right. Because by the time you're 12, your family moves to Orange County.
You said, when I was 12 years old, we already enjoyed a very privileged situation.
And compared to others, I was quite a spoiled boy. Was that true?
Yeah, I was spoiled. Our dad was taking us to the movies all the time. We had cable television.
Eventually, once we got into high school years, my mother had found this performing arts program
that I had auditioned for and got into. I didn't have to work during school. They weren't comfortable
with that, getting in the way of schoolwork. They didn't buy me a car. I got the hand-me-down Volvo,
for sure. I think culturally, what it means to spoil your kid in Chile, at least then,
is a little different. Although, certainly, I was developing needs from lots of John Hughes
movies that I was watching when I was a kid. And my dad would literally be like,
who the hell? Being allowed to see everything. There was one movie I wasn't allowed to see.
Which one?
The Breakfast Club. I was dying to see it. I was desperate to see it. And I wasn't allowed,
the argument being it was rated R. But I was like, but so was First Blood. And you took me
to the movies to see that. Essentially, what I came to understand is that my father was like,
here are these kids complaining about their parents through the whole movie. Their lives
look pretty good to me. So no, you're not seeing that movie.
I like the idea that your dad actually went to go see the movie first. He screened it for himself.
He's like, you know what? This is not a picture for my son. He's going to start resenting us,
develop all these bad habits.
Those kinds of ideas.
Smoking weed.
Can't have that.
Yeah. We could see the big chill about, you know, the sex and vibe, whatever,
but not kids complaining. He's like, you're not getting any ideas from this thing.
Was it in high school that you started to develop an interest in acting?
No, I wanted to. That was why my mom found this performing arts program, because it was sort of
this fantasy that I was sharing with everybody at a very, very young age.
You know, I knew I wanted to be in movies, started talking about it when I was
seven years old.
And what did people say when you said that?
They thought it was cute. I would imagine that maybe I kind of,
when given the opportunity to get attention, I would seize it and entertain and either
annoy or really seduce an audience as far as parents, friends and stuff were concerned.
So maybe they were like, yeah, you know, you definitely need a lot of attention.
Nobody seemed surprised.
He either needs therapy or he needs acting.
And I got both.
You know, as soon as we moved to California at the age of, I was 11 turning 12,
I immediately was like, oh, we're getting closer and closer to Hollywood.
You know, really?
That was actually in your head.
Absolutely. And so my mother found like a summer program at South Coast Repertory in Costa Mesa.
This is before I got to high school.
Other friends found this like children's acting program at Laguna Beach.
And I auditioned for the kids show at the Laguna Beach Playhouse and got the lead.
And it was a play called Wiley and the Hairy Man.
And I was Wiley, you know, so at that point, all right,
he's really into this.
He doesn't want to swim anymore.
Let's just keep him occupied.
And so they didn't mind it at all.
As far as how much it kept me out of the house, out of the house watching,
you know, from kept me from wanting to sit in front of the TV all day,
which I do now because I'm an adult and I got what I want.
You hear that kids?
If you grow up, you can just sit around and watch yourself on TV.
Oh, sorry.
He didn't mention that.
He only watches things that he's in or things that he auditioned for and he didn't get.
Over and over and over again.
I'm not going to go down that list.
It's too long.
It's too ******* long.
That's for sure.
The day that changed you, as I understand it, senior year of high school,
a friend of your mother's gives you tickets to Angels in America.
Downtown Los Angeles.
Yeah.
At the Mark Taper.
Yeah.
Before Broadway.
Walk me through that day, that performance.
Basically, my mother's friend said she had theater tickets to something that started at
three in the afternoon and ended, you know, after 10 PM and didn't have the back for it,
like had back issues.
And so if I wanted these tickets, I could take a friend and she'd give me a note to
get out of school early and drive to the taper and see this play.
She didn't know what it was and neither did I.
And I was like, **** yeah, get out of school early, go see a play.
Hell yeah.
And it was Oscar Eustace's production of Angels in America.
I think it's probably one of the 20th century's like most important pieces of literature,
much less theater.
Because if you read it on the page, it's as good as a book, you know?
And so I saw that with this underdeveloped brain and it was about everything.
And I remember it very vividly, so much so that I haven't really been able to see
other versions of it because of how indelibly marked that first experience was.
What elements in it spoke to you?
It just was so fantastic in concept and in drama.
I'm sure there were a ton of things that were over my head.
It was overtly sexual.
It was overtly political.
It was overtly intellectual.
It was overtly emotional.
And so there was just the visceral experience of these very well-written scenes for one,
and these hyper-intellectual speeches and monologues opening each kind of chapter of
the play and the political history of it all.
And you started to hear about AIDS before we all hit puberty in my generation.
And so little information on that.
And I think sex for all of us just seemed so scary.
It seemed scary to you?
It seemed scary to all of us, all my friends.
You know what I mean?
The idea of being reckless around sex seemed like it just would have such consequences.
At that point, it didn't matter if you were gay or straight.
You know?
As we were sort of entering into that phase in life, we started to look for sex, have sex,
basically.
And so it was just dealt with all of these things kind of head-on.
I didn't know about Roy Cohn.
I didn't know about the Rosenbergs.
And I didn't know enough about McCarthyism and all of these things.
So it just kind of blew my brain wide open.
But it was also an incredible production.
And the acting was so fierce.
And I remember particularly between Harper and the character of Harper, the Mormon couple,
and Pryor and Lewis and the way that they had these simultaneous kinds of fights.
I just remember being blown away.
Politically and creatively, this piece spoke to you.
And it clearly awoke something in a young 18-year-old version of yourself.
I also remember around this time, the kinds of impression that certain things made with
movies as well.
I remember seeing Sex, Lies, and Videotape and this four-character piece.
And just sort of getting into my system.
I remember a teacher doing Enta Sakashengas for colored girls who have considered suicide
when the rainbow was enough.
And they literally just completely laying me out in terms of how dramatically effective
these things were in that particular form, that play, that movie.
But also what you were learning as a kid.
However it happened, it stirred something inside of you that made you think,
I should go to New York, attend NYU, and try to make a go at this.
You're looking at me almost terrified.
Well, there was just so many other movies that took place in New York that I had seen
and I'd sort of already developed.
I'd gone to New York with my father when I was a kid.
And I knew, and again, developed this fantasy of a life that would start in, you know,
first it was going to be Hollywood.
And then I started to understand that real actors came from New York.
And I loved it there.
Really did.
When I was a kid, I saw A Little Shop of Horrors, you know, that Second Avenue theater where
in 93, David Mamet's Oleana was there and then Stomp came and never left.
Stomp was there and I think is still there as far as I know.
And that's where I find a little in awe of the privilege sometimes because I had these
sort of fantasies that I believed that I ended up having access to.
And also just believed intrinsically that would happen.
I got into NYU.
My parents did not want me to go.
They nearly didn't let me go.
Because in our house, like you had to do well in school and you had to get into college.
And then the rest of it, it didn't matter what you were doing.
If these things were being accomplished, if these boxes were being checked, then they
didn't care if you were ******* or doing, you know.
And so.
But they did let you go?
They did.
They ended up letting me go to NYU, yeah.
And so I went there.
Rude awakening.
Which part?
Living there, going from being a spoiled kid in Orange County, relatively sheltered kid
in Orange County, to living in New York and living in those winters and everyone way cooler
than you, more talented, better, you know, smarter, sort of like thinking that you're
the ---- and then realizing that you are insignificant, you know, and that everyone has as much ambition
as you and just finding space for yourself and the kind of existential sort of confrontation
that it was to kind of be in a much, much bigger world.
As you start to find your footing in New York, is there any point in college where you started
to think, okay, maybe this acting thing, it can happen for me.
I feel comfortable in this.
There was a classmate of mine my freshman year, this amazing actor named Eugene Bird,
who had started very early, he's from Philadelphia and he's still, you know, going today.
He's fantastic.
And he had professional representation in his generosity.
He said, I think you should meet my manager.
I think you're really good.
And I met his manager.
So before I ended up graduating NYU, I was being sent on auditions because I had professional
representation and to me, so that left me under the impression that it was just going
to happen, like immediately.
You do get two quick breaks, don't you?
Well, you know, one of the things that happened while I was still in school, I went to an
open call for a movie called Primal Fear, got called back for it, called back for it
again and screen tested for it.
For the Ed Norton role?
Yeah.
I think it was something that Leonardo DiCaprio was going to do and then that didn't happen.
So they started looking and it was like the big sought after role.
I didn't get it.
It left me with the impression that while being heartbroken over that, I'll get the
next one.
Of course, I did not.
And then I did not.
Until you got the role on Buffy.
I did get a part on Buffy, which was incredibly exciting to me.
It was the first episode of the fourth season, like one scene and I got killed and I couldn't
have been more excited about it.
So you have representation.
Yeah.
You're 22, 23.
Yeah.
Agent manager, have a couple of parts in something.
Got my SAG job, you know.
Well, so you had some footing.
Oh, yeah.
Yeah, I thought so.
How does a 23-year-old you make sense of your mom's passing at that age?
It was obviously very traumatic.
And the circumstance of it is one that because she died in Chile, it means the services are
immediate.
They don't embalm.
So it was getting the news and then getting on a plane and flying overnight to Santiago
to go to a funeral.
So you take a plane from New York?
From LA.
I was in Los Angeles when I found out.
I'd been testing for a pilot called Dark Angel, which was a really big deal at the time because
it was sort of the first thing that James Cameron's name was attached to after Titanic.
And it was like a supporting role.
It was like, you know, number four on the call sheet for which, again, was going to
be the thing that was going to change my life.
Instead, your life changes in a completely different way.
Yeah.
On that plane ride, what's going through your head?
You know, I can't say I know.
I remember that there was a man sitting next to me.
He didn't know what was going on, but airline travel is often a pretty hostile experience.
I just remember that there was a man sitting next to me.
He was just kind of protective in a way.
He could see that I was obviously going through something.
And I remember, I don't know.
I don't know.
Maybe the stewardess was like, I wasn't very responsive or something.
And she wasn't being sensitive to something that was pretty obviously going on.
And he kind of answered for me.
And he was a complete stranger.
He said he doesn't want it.
And I just can remember that.
And I obviously didn't sleep, but it's an overnight flight.
And so then you go.
It was summer in Chile as well.
So it's very beautiful out.
And it's a very beautiful day.
And none of that seemed to coincide very well with what was happening.
And so I remember it being an unbelievable thing to get through, to be honest with you.
What do you mean by unbelievable?
I just loved her so much.
And she's just kind of the love of my life in a way.
And the world doesn't stop.
And the sun doesn't stop shining.
And it was meant to emotionally.
It was hard for me to register, just to comprehend that you could be in a car going to a cremation
service and see a family kind of like playing in the yard, experiencing something so drastically
different right in front of you.
That other people could be experiencing joy.
Not even mildly, like a beautiful summer day.
And I remember that more than anything.
And everything stopped.
And I was very resentful that nothing stopped.
That's kind of the most unnerving part of people dying in your life, which is that they
mean so much.
In your case, she meant everything.
And yet the world continues on.
Yeah.
I had a hard time with that.
Part of carrying on was wanting to get work.
And yet it seemed so absurd to feel preoccupied by an audition for maybe a television show
or something like that, or a beer commercial.
It felt silly in contrast to what had happened.
Yeah.
It was just too, it seemed too ridiculous.
Because the plan was to stick it out in Los Angeles.
And having gotten my Buffy and a theater award, I was like, oh, well, it's going really
good for me in LA.
I'll stay.
But I think I understood that I didn't feel like it was, it's not, I love LA.
But it isn't necessarily the most nurturing environment.
It can be nurturing in terms of going to the beach and going hiking and ---- like that.
But emotionally, it's a challenge, I think, for everybody, often.
And so I understood pretty clearly that I wouldn't, I don't know, that I was in jeopardy
of not being able to process this.
So I moved back to New York.
You throw yourself into it.
Yeah.
The original goal was to go out there and to do theater and to be a real actor and everything
like that.
So I must make meaning out of my life.
Big mistake.
New York was like, really?
You're back?
Yeah.
And what?
Back to the restaurant, kid.
Because I had graduated from NYU and I spent a really brutal year after my graduation,
waiting tables and not getting anything.
And then being convinced to get out to LA and to give it a shot out there and getting
a SAG job and testing for a pilot, et cetera.
So when I went back to New York, no matter what it is, whenever it comes down, I wouldn't
want to dissuade anybody from being romantic about their lives or their goals.
But it wasn't a very practical thing to do.
And it felt like a really huge detour because I got dropped by my agents and I couldn't
get arrested.
And then 9-11 happened.
And it was just a really crazy, crazy, crazy time.
You said once in an interview, I had to let go of so many ideas I had about what the pursuit
of this career was going to be.
It's a child's fantasy.
There were opportunities.
A close call started early for me, but it didn't pan out.
You find yourself suddenly in your mid-30s and can't live off the next off-Broadway
show.
Yeah.
How did you keep going when nothing was working out?
I was a waiter.
A bad one.
But how I got through it was friends and family, really.
I don't want to be too sentimental, but my sister was there to bail me out of anything.
She lived in New York for some of that.
And I guess as an adult, you develop your own family, which I had to do in very, very,
very, very close relationships.
There was just always somebody to bail me out and cheer me on.
And so I don't really know.
There was always just a little something to keep you going.
I got a play.
I remember losing my representation, and there was an audition that had been scheduled before
I got dropped.
And I think the only reason that I had been submitted for it was because the character's
first name was Pascal.
And it was a world premiere of a play at the Merrimack Repertory Theater in Lowell, Massachusetts,
outside of Boston.
And I was like, well, when you got that sort of brutal phone call from the agent saying
that we are no longer going to represent you, and you say, well, what about that appointment
on Thursday?
Do I still go?
And they're like, yeah, sure.
So I went, and I got that part.
And I went to Lowell, Massachusetts, to do this play.
I think it was called Fallen.
This incredible actress named Monique Fowler was in the play.
And I don't know, we just became friends.
She realized what my situation was and was like, I'll introduce you to my agent.
I met him and went to an excellent, smaller kind of boutique agency.
And that sort of got the ball rolling in terms of regional theater.
I think the next thing was a play in Washington, D.C. at the Shakespeare Theater Company.
And then a tiny theater in Cape Cod.
And I really started to do the regional thing.
Went out to Oregon.
Did Massachusetts quite a few times.
Did D.C. quite a few times.
So it was starting to come together piece by piece.
Yeah, piece by piece in terms of very far away, outside of the radar, professional work,
which, again, started to feel really important to me as far as these were big, exciting wins.
Also, I didn't have any experience in classical training and would get cast in a production of
a Hamlet or Troilus and Cressida and, you know, sort of turned this professional
environment into training grounds.
And that was cool.
And then I got my first play in New York on off-Broadway premiere of a Nilo Cruz
play called The Beauty of the Father.
And this was the first play produced in New York after he had just won the Pulitzer.
For Anna in the Tropics.
Really big deal.
Some nobody named Oscar Isaac was one of the other leads.
And that got things sort of going within the off-Broadway community a little bit.
Took a long time.
Took years.
I'd gotten back to New York in August of 2001.
Went into rehearsals for that play in the winter of 2005.
And those years in between felt like a lifetime.
And even from 05 leading up to Game of Thrones in 2014,
you're putting it together piece by piece, somehow remaining undeterred by what I'm
sure was an immense amount of failure and rejection.
A longtime friend of yours and a great actor, Sarah Paulson, said of you,
he has a rather righteous sense of self.
When I look back at it now, I do know there was always this voice deep down inside of
him that said someday he was going to do what he wanted to do in the manner in which he
wanted to do it.
I wish she had told me that.
She told the New York Times that.
Because in the meantime, she was giving me her per diem cash to help me buy groceries.
She bailed me out of so many things.
I can't tell you.
Very soon after my mother had passed, I didn't have a car in L.A.
And she made her younger sister give me her car.
I think that her sister had an alternative.
But basically, those kinds of life-saving moments, maybe that is the thing that unconsciously
does kind of sort of keep you going, this sort of sense of self that she was able to
identify.
I had a really hard time identifying that.
You yourself?
Yeah, for sure.
What it started to feel like as you get older and start to get into your 30s, and you're
still doing this, and you're still going on auditions and everything, and you're
not developing other skills, if you're me.
And you start to think, maybe it's too late to develop other skills.
I did.
It's completely too late for me to develop other skills.
And so it started to feel like a kind of ruthlessly practical way of living your life,
because it was what you knew how to do.
I knew how to go on auditions.
It was always just enough, you know, and there would be good months, bad months, good year,
bad year.
And eventually, it just started to become a little bit more consistent.
I've definitely felt there was sort of kind of a ceiling for me in New York that I wasn't
really graduating from.
As far as the theater community was concerned, there were two plays that I was up for that
I didn't get that would have been jobs through the winter of 2010 going into 11.
One was a revival of Angels in America at the Signature Theater directed by Michael
Greif, and they just didn't know where to put me in that.
And then the other was, I think they were moving Merchant of Venice from the park to
Broadway.
Didn't get either part, which meant that I was available for pilot season.
I just started to throw my focus towards that in a really, really practical way.
And again, the dream sort of became maybe getting a regular gig on a series that could
help pay the rent.
The pilot season works out.
You get a bunch of bit parts and episodic stuff and a whole bunch of shows.
As we leave, I want to sit with a couple things.
Yeah.
When you get the Game of Thrones role, I think somewhere in the middle of shooting, you're
in Belfast, sitting in the great hall of the Red Keep, watching this big, enormous
set around you come alive and activate, and you are part of it.
When you're sitting there looking at the place you've landed, after all you had to go through
to get to that moment, how do you sit with that now?
It's definitely one of the best days.
I've ever had.
Period.
Yeah.
The set was beautiful.
So many of the main players were there.
I was sitting down.
It's key.
Instead of like, it is key.
Instead of hanging from a cliff or running or in the elements, you're on a set.
You're sitting down and you have a view of everything from where I was sitting.
All of the background players in their costumes.
It was wonderful.
I definitely had to let go of expectations like that.
Really, you know?
Of that dream you had as a kid?
Yeah, of having a job of that caliber.
Because again, like I say, getting one of the Law & Order episodes at the time, it felt
like a really huge win.
The dream was sort of happening.
The size of it had just been so adjusted over the years.
When I was a child, I dreamed of sitting in a chair on a show in a scene like that, playing
a part like that.
I remember being kind of really triggered by the audition process of Game of Thrones
because I hadn't made myself totally invulnerable to the desire for a role that could prove
successful.
But I had definitely created sort of a healthier expectation around work.
And when that started to be challenged again, it really scared me.
I was like, oh gosh, it doesn't feel safe to want something as much as I want this,
you know?
I'd learned that that's very painful.
Because you had been disappointed too often.
So often.
We're starting with Primal Fear at the age of 19, and I'm like 38 at this point.
And Primal Fear wasn't the only one, you know?
There were many in between.
Close calls.
And so being able to sit there and being like, gee, I got this part.
I'm doing this part.
Yeah, it was a moment I really enjoyed, to say the least.
It's like you had this childhood dream.
The dream worked out a little bit and very quickly in your early 20s.
Then the world kind of came crashing down on you, and it made you reset your expectations.
And by the time you're in your early 40s, you're thinking, it's just too dangerous
emotionally to want something again.
Yeah.
But to bring it full circle, you've done so much in the last five years.
That childhood dream has been actualized.
And yet I'm curious for you, as we leave, did you get what you wanted?
Yeah, more than what I wanted.
I think that you have to maintain a relationship to the innocence of your imagination and also
parent it with reality and keep yourself in check because nothing is ever enough if you
aren't in a relationship to truth, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.
I was going to ask you.
Yeah, what is truth?
What is truth to you?
At this point, you're 47 now.
Or at the very least, what the hell is your truth?
Be good to yourself and be good to people.
If you want to do any good, you got to be good.
And that's got to start with yourself and those that are important to you.
And I guess I would say that relationships and having good relationships is more important
to me than everything that's been going on for the last five years.
And I know that that's going to be the sustaining thing.
So that's what I want.
So it's a matter of staying in relationship to that and also to how ******* exciting it
is for Nicolas Cage to be your scene partner on the first day of work, having been flown
out of the Los Angeles apocalypse of 2020 and starting a shoot day in Dubrovnik, Croatia,
where your head was split open in Game of Thrones, spitting distance from the arena
where I shot that fight.
Really pinch me kind of ----.
It's always a challenge to remind yourself to kind of pinch yourself and like, oh, you
know, things are kind of working out.
And early on in this conversation, you said you were a little confused by the fact that
you and your sister were two of 34 members of your family to remain in America.
I'm thinking about that now because you have this quote here.
You said, I can't even imagine everything my parents had to go through when they escaped
from Chile.
And that has left me with an inheritance of guilt that perhaps has determined the way
in which my brothers and I navigate the world.
That guilt that anyone who grows up with some privilege has, whether your parents fleed
a dictatorship or not.
Do you still carry that?
Or are you now at this point in your life able to let it go?
We carry it.
You know, it's a generational thing.
I think in spite of what my parents went through, they were also very lucky.
I think that they carry the guilt of the humble beginnings of their parents.
It's very contradictory because I feel like they didn't set any limitations because
both my sisters and my brother have been kind of uncompromising in terms of what their pursuits
are and how important their relationships are.
And out of the four of us, maybe they would be very hurt to hear this.
I'm so attached to them.
I cling to them so much, which for, I guess, obvious reasons.
I wonder what it is about my parents that made us feel such permission to be and do
what we want.
And so I guess for them not to have the clearest shape, the most solid shape to just put in
front of myself, makes me...
It isn't guilt necessarily, but it is just sort of, you know, some kind of, I don't know,
some sort of like duty.
Don't, you know, be grateful.
I don't know, you know.
This isn't necessarily something that I've kind of like figured out.
What were you thinking?
I was just thinking about the mystery of it in terms of how they're still sort of making
sense of things and putting it all together and making shape of it so that you can kind
of see it and just try to understand all of the events that have led to me just sitting
in front of you and talking about it.
I don't really know how to piece it together or what it actually means.
And I guess what I was just doing now is just kind of staring blankly at the mystery of
what does it all mean?
Oh God, this is the end, right?
You've got to stop me.
I'm just going to stop talking so that I don't continue.
Too hard on yourself.
I know.
God, I hear that a lot.
That's a goal.
Stop being so hard on yourself.
I don't know why your parents gave you the permission they did to be the creative person
that you've become, but I think I speak for many people listening that I'm glad that
they gave you that permission and I'm grateful you've made good use of it.
Thank you, Sam.
Are you okay?
I am feeling vulnerable, but that's a good thing.
Thank you for being vulnerable.
Welcome.
Pedro, lovely to meet you.
Lovely to meet you too, Sam.
Thank you.
