Entertainment
Versatile and self-aware, Betty Gilpin moves with ease onscreen and onstage
NEW YORK — Betty Gilpin is not one to complain.
She spent seven months in New Mexico making “American Primeval,” a gory western set in the treacherous Utah Territory in 1857. She filmed in the elements, often at night, with the most volatile co-stars of all: horses. The long shoot was nearing completion when Hollywood went on strike in mid-2023, shutting down “American Primeval” for months. By the time the production resumed in early 2024, Gilpin was six months pregnant with her second child and no longer in a condition to mount a horse. So producers got her a robotic steed.
“It wasn’t the most easy,” is all she’ll grant. But by any reasonable measure, making “American Primeval” was an ordeal. Thankfully, Gilpin had her husband, Cosmo Pfeil, and their daughter, Mary, now 4, with her on location.
“That was my grand equalizer,” she says. “I would spend my days screaming bloody murder in a petticoat on a horse, then get home and hunch over in a candy cane position and do bath and bedtime. Being a mom in an Airbnb is way harder than filming on top of a ski mountain in below zero degrees.”
On a rainy morning in December, Gilpin has just arrived at a cafe in New York City’s Clinton Hill neighborhood. In a beet red sweater adorned with a diagram of the uterus, she has already squeezed in a session at the gym and tended to her daughters, including the youngest, now 7 months old.
Motherhood, she says, “gives you permanent access, whether you want it or not, to a darker, more rooted self.”
That served her well in “American Primeval,” in which she plays Sara Rowell, a woman with a mysterious past trying to start a new life on the frontier with her son, Devin (Preston Mota). With bounty hunters hot on her trail, Sara hires a taciturn stranger named Isaac (Taylor Kitsch) to guide them to safety, which proves elusive in a region where the Army, Native Americans, Mormon militiamen and other settlers are locked in a battle for control.
In “American Primeval,” Gilpin plays Sara Rowell, a woman traveling westward with her young son, Devin (Preston Mota), left, who is assisted by Isaac (Taylor Kitsch) on the perilous journey.
(Matt Kennedy / Netflix )
From writer-creator Mark L. Smith (“The Revenant”), director Peter Berg (“Lone Survivor”) and executive producer Eric Newman (“Narcos”), “American Primeval” offers an unrelentingly violent take on the history of westward expansion, one that is likely to stoke controversy, particularly in its portrayal of the early Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Later this month, Gilpin will make her Broadway debut as Mary Todd Lincoln in “Oh, Mary!,” taking over for Cole Escola in the bawdy hit that reimagines the doleful first lady as a batty aspiring cabaret star. In a strange coincidence of casting, she recently finished shooting the Netflix drama “Death by Lightning,” in which she portrays Lucretia Garfield, the wife of another doomed 19th century president.
But there’s more to Gilpin — much, much more — than bonnets and hoopskirts.
Since her breakthrough role as a soap star-turned-professional wrestler in the dearly departed Netflix series “GLOW,” Gilpin has displayed a remarkable range, not only from role to role but also within individual performances. (Not to be confined to one art form, she also published “All the Women in My Brain and Other Concerns,” a collection of essays, in 2022.) She moves among genres and time periods with ease and she gravitates to layered roles that showcase her versatility: In the inventive sci-fi comedy “Mrs. Davis,” she plays a time-traveling nun fighting a sentient form of artificial intelligence. In the recent “Three Women,” based on Lisa Taddeo’s book of the same name, she portrays Lina, a neglected Indiana housewife struggling with chronic pain and unmet desire.
This has resulted in a level of notoriety for Gilpin that is captured by an interaction she had earlier at the gym. “I could tell a woman was looking at me like she thought we went to high school together — just squinting at me, trying to place me in her yearbook. Then she realized, ‘Oh, I recognize that person from an ensemble miniseries.’”
It’s a comfortable place to be, she says. “I always roll my eyes when I read interviews with actors who talk about how happy they are with their level of nonfame. So you’re doing this public interview?”
Gilpin is quick-witted and highly quotable, with a gift for conjuring evocative imagery on the fly, all of which makes for a lively interview. But she’s also savvy and self-aware enough to anticipate how anything she says might be taken out of context in a media environment where, as she puts it, “We’re all scrolling our phones seeing the most horrifying things, and then our algorithms are feeding us little bits of candy to distract us from the horror.”
“Too many times I’ve done an interview where I say something with my eyes crossed, in a weird demented joke accent, and it’s the headline, sounding totally sincere,” she says. “I can’t control where in one’s toilet scrolling one is finding my interview about neuroses and vulnerability, right?”
The actor is savvy and self-aware enough to anticipate how anything she says might be taken out of context: “We’re all scrolling our phones seeing the most horrifying things, and then our algorithms are feeding us little bits of candy to distract us from the horror.”
(Victoria Will / For The Times)
Acting was “always sort of destined,” says Gilpin, whose parents, Jack Gilpin and Ann McDonough, though not household names, have worked steadily in film, TV and theater for decades. (Her dad plays Church the Butler on HBO’s “The Gilded Age.”)
Raised in New York and Connecticut, she attended Fordham University, where she studied acting with a Jesuit priest, Father George Drance, who encouraged her to use visual metaphors. “It just took me out of my own head, and made it a magic process, rather than a math equation: ‘Is this right or wrong?’” she says. “Thinking about it in an abstract way helps me shimmy my feathers for the coins.”
She then spent roughly a decade working off-Broadway and cycling through small roles in indie movies and TV procedurals. (Perhaps you saw her as a teacher who had sex with her student in “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit”?)
A guest stint on “Nurse Jackie,” where she befriended writers Liz Flahive and Carly Mensch, led to “GLOW.” Her performance in the nostalgic ’80s dramedy was notable for its intense physicality — she body-slammed like a pro — and the way Gilpin’s character Debbie Eagan channeled her personal anguish into her wrestling persona, an all-American bombshell known as Liberty Belle.
The part earned Gilpin three Emmy nominations and a legion of new fans, including comedian Matt Rogers.
“I just couldn’t ignore the fact that it was one of the best performances I have probably seen, ever — just the sheer versatility of it,” says Rogers, who co-hosts the podcast “Las Culturistas” with Bowen Yang. “As an audience member, whether you’re reading the book she wrote or watching her onscreen, you are well fed.” Gilpin has become a frequent guest on the show, where she and Rogers have bonded over their shared “theater kid” sensibility and the complications of being creative people in a commercial industry.
“When you become viable in an industry way, but you have to reconcile that with the fact that you have this artist’s spirit that wants to roll around on the ground and do theater games,” Rogers says. Gilpin, now a friend, “happens to be trapped in the body of this ingenue leading lady, but she is a real pelvic-floor-of-doom theater person,” he adds. “She feels it in her guts.”
Production on Season 4 of “GLOW” was underway when the onset of COVID-19 shut it down in March 2020; Netflix abruptly canceled the show later that year. “Three Women,” a rare premium drama exploring sexuality from a female perspective, was sold by Showtime during a reorganization at Paramount Global and premiered on Starz in September.
Gilpin as Debbie “Liberty Belle” Eagan in “Glow.” (Erica Parise/Netflix)
Gilpin as Lina in Starz’s “Three Women.” (JOJO WHILDEN/JoJo Whilden/SHOWTIME)
Gilpin probably has the right to gripe about how industry turmoil affected these projects but, again, that’s not her style. “I feel very proud and confused at my luck in the business. I’m certainly not shaking my fist about any weird disappointments or corporations making decisions that have nothing to do with me,” she says. “Maybe it comes from starting in the theater, where all that existed was the moment you were making something.”
While some roles can feel fleeting or elusive, with Lina, the unhappy housewife who embarks on a passionate affair with her high school boyfriend in “Three Women,” there was “an eerie clarity” the whole time, Gilpin says. “It’s probably the most connected I’ve ever been to a character.” It helped to have Taddeo’s book at the ready, because of how “she focuses on the moments that we don’t tell each other about — the things we’d edit out of our journals, if we knew they were going to be read,” Gilpin says. “We think those things are ours alone … when actually those moments in our lives where we are yearning for something forbidden or mourning something inexplicable, those are the shared DNA that connects us.”
Shailene Woodley, who plays author Gia in “Three Women” — a stand-in for Taddeo — was impressed by how Gilpin gave agency to Lina, who could easily have come across as a doormat. “I think a lot of actors would have easily followed the simple road of playing Lina with extreme intimacy and vulnerability. What Betty did was give her an electric force of hope and willpower… Where most actors, including myself, would have turned left, Betty turns right, and she finds colors and layers that other people would miss.”
She brings similarly unexpected colors to Sara in “American Primeval,” whom she likens to “a Brontë character who is suddenly forced to play death-rugby in Hades.”
Gilpin likens Sara in “American Primeval” to “a Brontë character who is suddenly forced to play death-rugby in Hades.”
( Netflix )
“As wild as this series is, I did recognize a lot of the things that Sara struggled with as a mom, especially having my first daughter in 2020. I had a lot of catastrophic thinking and was very afraid all the time,” she says.
Berg, who has directed intense action movies like “Deepwater Horizon” — filmed on an oil rig — says “American Primeval” was “the most brutal thing I’ve ever done.” When he found out that Gilpin would be returning from the strike six months pregnant, he thought they might have to drastically rewrite the remainder of the series. Instead, “She was leading the charge every day, up and down that mountain, pregnant, with a smile on her face,” he says, adding, with only a trace of hyperbole, “Betty Gilpin is a true American legend.”
The director, who often encourages improvisation on set, says Gilpin found ways to bring much-needed humor and sweetness to the grim material.
“She would look at me every once in a while and say, ‘You know, it’s not going to kill any of us to laugh a little bit with this show. It can’t be all scalpings, shootings, bear attacks and drownings. We should be able to find some moments to laugh and to feel love,’” Berg recalls. “She found both of those.”
“I keep waking up in the middle of the night, thinking, ‘What am I doing?’” says Gilpin, who will take over as Mary Todd Lincoln from Cole Escola, creator of “Oh, Mary!”
(Victoria Will / For The Times)
Kitsch recalls how Gilpin improvised a tender scene in which Sara gently teases Isaac for having a discernible heartbeat. “I won’t tell anyone,” she says. He praises Gilpin as an instinctual performer whose meticulous preparation — including working with a dramaturg who creates a syllabus of readings to help her get into a character’s mindset — enables her “to just let go and not worry about a bad take or repercussions. She just swings,” he says. “She was always game on, just super focused on the work and trying to get the best out of the day.”
For now, Gilpin is focused on donning Lincoln’s bratty curls and putting her mark on the role that has made Escola the toast of Broadway. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night, thinking, ‘What am I doing?’” she says. (These bouts of panic are often cut short by her 4-year-old, who’s been getting up twice a night lately.)
In an email, Escola remembers being immediately struck by Gilpin in “GLOW.” “She has that mix of toughness and vulnerability that I typically associate with Old Hollywood broads,” they said. The nonbinary playwright and actor is also a fan of a character that Gilpin occasionally portrays on her private Instagram account, whom she describes as “a delusional, out of touch regional theater actress who is in her dressing room a half hour before curtain.” When Escola began to think about a replacement, Gilpin seemed like an obvious choice: “Betty is a capital-A actress with her own unique palette as an artist. I don’t know how [the character] will change yet but it will. She understands comedy and cares deeply about the heart of this character, that’s all that matters.”
“Oh, Mary!” captures the fact that “we are all overlooked, unique geniuses and delusional mediocre idiots at the same time,” Gilpin says. “I will probably be both in the show.”
Gilpin finds comfort knowing that, coincidentally, both her close friend Cristin Milioti and her father made their Broadway debuts on the stage where she’ll make hers. A few weeks ago, she went to the theater for a fitting, and the sensory experience — the crackle of the speaker backstage, the scrape of the hangers being moved across a costume rack — made her tear up.
“It feels like a return to the reason I’m on this earth, honestly,” she says. “Not to sound too insanely out of touch.”
Movie Reviews
‘Evil Dead Burn’ Movie Review – Spotlight Report
Sam Raimi‘s Evil Dead films and TV series are a fine example of creativity within constraints, playfulness, self-awareness and outright slapstick comedy. The Evil Dead series after Raimi is very, very different. Starting with 2013’s Evil Dead by Fede Álvarez, followed by Evil Dead Rise by Lee Cronin, the new series takes itself more seriously and emphasises pure horror, violence and gore. Some have considered this praiseworthy as it avoids being a mere retread of the old films, but the reception has been mixed.
In Sébastien Vanicek’s Evil Dead Burn, Alice (Souheila Yacoub) loses her abusive husband (George Pullar) to a motor accident. When she goes home to stay with his family, the consequences of the work of their dead grandfather researching the Necronomicon and the Deadites manifest in terrible ways. One by one, the family are turned into the Evil Dead.
Horror is a genre that depends on you relating to the protagonists so you care what happens to them. In the case of Evil Dead Burn, Yacoub does a decent job with the character she’s given, but the gonzo horror elements manifest so early in the film that she may as well be collateral damage in the onslaught, especially as the film’s early point of view is that of her brother-in-law (Hunter Doohan).
Fans of gory violence will get their money’s worth here, but there’s not a lot going on besides that. The film is a descent into madness and carnage that is so resolutely unpleasant that, after some of the early kills, it becomes numbing. It’s hard to gather what the tone is supposed to be, with lots of callbacks to the early films’ style by setting up inevitable kills with Chekhov’s weed trimmer, Chekhov’s fork and every other potentially dangerous prop the camera lingers on. The family are all deeply unpleasant at some level and so their deaths register as meaningless. Yes, the film has the obligatory something to say about how our tendency to ignore domestic abuse creates demons that destroy families, but then absolutely panders to bloodlust by absolutely revelling in some of the most extreme violence imaginable between family members (and a pet). To say this is not a film for the sensitive is to understate things considerably. This is a film that absolutely earns its content guidance warnings.
Is there any comedy? Some, but it feels out of place given the absolute brutality inflicted on the cast. While most of the other films were self-aware about setting up a ludicrously grisly end for a villain as a payoff, in Evil Dead Burn,the kills have very little flair. It’s also hard to know what the rules for getting rid of a Deadite are, as some of them are still upright and chatty after losing most of the contents of their skull and some are dispatched by the repeated application of a blunt object to the head. Towards the end, a McGuffin is added to make the kills final, but before that, who knows?
Should you watch Evil Dead Burn,? It certainly gets vocal reactions from audiences in a cinema, and if you’re a gorehound you’ll be in for a ride. If you’re a horror fan, it’s certainly a horror film, but violent instead of scary. If you’re just a fan of cinema who likes good films whether or not they’re horror films, then this will be an alienating watch. In Evil Dead Rise the decay of the family was more than background noise and factored into the circumstances of the individual deaths, but not here. It has slight pretences of being a film with Themes and Ideas, but in the end it just feels like an excuse to serve up limbs being mutilated, skulls being crushed and any number of stabbings, slicings and gougings rendered with psychopathic visual fidelity. If that’s what you’re after, that’s what it’s got.
Entertainment
‘Children of Blood and Bone’ author won’t see film after feud with star Amandla Stenberg
Tomi Adeyemi, the author of the bestselling fantasy “Children of Blood and Bone,” isn’t planning to see the forthcoming film adaptation — even though she co-wrote it.
Over the weekend, the Nigerian American author posted a video on TikTok addressing fans who have been asking her the same question, “Why don’t you post about the adaptation of your first film adaptation anymore?”
“There is a reason I will not post anything about the adaptation of my work,” the author wrote in what appear to be screenshots of a group chat. “I have not seen the film, and I will not watch it.”
The adaptation of the first installment of Adeyemi’s “Legacy of Orïsha” fantasy trilogy is slated to hit theaters in January 2027. Gina Prince-Bythewood — who wrote and directed “Love & Basketball” and helmed “The Woman King” — is directing. The film stars Amandla Stenberg, Thuso Mbedu, Tosin Cole, Damson Idris, Cynthia Erivo, Lashana Lynch, Regina King, Idris Elba, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Viola Davis.
Alongside the screenshots of her comments in the group chat, she shared a February 2025 exchange with Stenberg that shows the author severing ties with the actor.
Adeyemi shared only her final message to Stenberg, which reads, “Do not ever use my name in an interview or video again. Do not text me. Do not call me.” That exchange is followed by a notification that she blocked Stenberg, who plays Princess Amari in the upcoming fantasy flick.
The message from Stenberg that preceded Adeyemi’s reply is not shown in full.
Stenberg, who played Rue in “Hunger Games,” Starr Carter in “The Hate U Give” and, recently, Verosha “Osha” Aniseya and Mae-ho “Mae” Aniseya in Disney’s “Star Wars” series “The Acolyte,” had been getting flack from readers of the series, who claimed colorism was an issue while casting the movie.
In February 2025, Stenberg posted a since-deleted nine-minute TikTok addressing the controversy and told followers that Adeyemi had given the actor her blessing when cast as the series’ princess.
“I am four months into training for ‘Children of Blood and Bone’ and I am getting my ass whooped,” Stenberg joked in the video, per BET.
“This year was mostly defined for me, honestly, by contending with what it felt like to receive racist death threats just for existing in the ‘Star Wars’ universe, and that was a really difficult thing for me to move through,” she continued. “But honestly, it feels so much more painful for me to feel like I’m at odds with my own community.”
Stenberg said that she considers her skin tone when navigating her career choices and would “never go after a role” she didn’t feel well suited for. “I know that colorism is an insidious system that relentlessly impacts every facet of entertainment.”
The actor continued that it was actually a meeting with the “Children of Blood and Bone” author that gave her the confidence to pursue the role.
“I had the opportunity to meet Tomi, the novelist, for the first time. … And she goes, ‘Amandla, I want you to know that when you were a little girl and you were cast as Rue in “The Hunger Games,” and people said that Rue’s death wouldn’t be as sad because you’re a Black girl — that inspired me to write this series so that Black girls like you and Black girls of all shades could have a story written about them,’” Stenberg said in the video. “We started crying, and I said to myself, ‘God wants me here.’”
Representatives for Stenberg, Adeyemi and Prince-Bythewood did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment.
Movie Reviews
‘Night Nurse’ Review: A Caretaker Explores Her Kink for Elder Abuse in the Year’s Strangest Erotic Thriller
There are any number of erotic thrillers in which rich old men are robbed blind and/or left for dead, but Georgia Bernstein’s admirably bizarre “Night Nurse” might be the first movie of its kind where elder abuse is the source — and possible subject— of its erotic thrills. If there are others, I’m not sure I want to know.
But this woozy debut feature doesn’t rely on its audience being turned on by the relationship between a nubile caretaker and her dementia-addled patient. Their psychosexual bond, meanwhile, hinges on cold-calling vulnerable old people under the guise of a grandchild in financial distress. (“I’m in trouble, nana, send me $10,000 or I’ll be left to rot in jail!” That sort of thing). With its slim wisp of a premise stretched into a Strickland-esque dreamscape that substitutes kink for conflict, the film itself hardly seems convinced by its own wrinkled lust — all desperate kisses and non-touching poses of subservience. More important to Bernstein is what that lust reveals about her characters’ deepest needs, specifically how their need to care and be cared for can be as easily perverted as any other form of desire.
As moody and weightless as the noir-accented score that blows through the movie like a curlicue gust of wind in an old cartoon (credit to musicians Sam Clapp and Steven Jackson), “Night Nurse” lacks the pulse required for its stray feelings to come alive. Still, the film ambiently taps into the latent eroticism of teasing out the distance between how you see yourself and who you really are. Bernstein plays with that distance like a telephone cord wrapped around her fingers, and Eleni — played by the excellent newcomer Cemre Paksoy, powerfully helpless — only frays even more as the receiver is brought near the hook. “Everything I did before today wasn’t me,” the nurse tells co-worker Mona (Eleonore Hendricks) after starting a new job at an Illinois retirement home. “It was somebody else.”
What she did before today remains unexplored (specifically, what she did to get herself fired from her last gig), but I’m guessing she’s probably changed less than she thought. There’s a faraway flicker in her eyes the moment she catches the vibe between Mona and Douglas (a ribald and elusive Bruce McKenzie), a white-haired seventysomething who shows early signs of dementia but still commands an undiminished sexual energy. “I’m not an invalid,” he coos as Mona bathes him in the tub, to which she replies, “yes, you are,” in a supplicant tone that hints at a rich history of power games between them.
Later that same night, Douglas will force Eleni to call a stranger, pretend that she’s their granddaughter, and ask for money — he’ll wrap the phone cord around the nurse’s body as she talks and shove her against the wall as they kiss. She’s into it. So into it that he has to clarify the terms of his whole deal: “If you’re looking for a pogo stick, I’m really not your guy.” But Eleni isn’t looking for anything to bounce on. She just wants to be needed, and maybe to need someone in return. Someone who will see her for who she really is and allow her the fantasy of pretending she isn’t being herself when she cons vulnerable strangers out of their money — when she exploits how enthralled those strangers are by the care they have for their loved ones.
“Night Nurse” doesn’t belabor the psychology, as Bernstein prefers to express her story through heavy-lidded suggestion. Somnambulating from the moment it starts, the film moves through a series of beautifully arranged poses that stretch their latent meaning thin across the surface (Lidia Nikonova’s cinematography lacquers every shot with a seductive dreaminess). We see Douglas smoking in a lawn chair with Mona and Eleni curled around his feet. Eleni riding in the backseat of a convertible as the wind blows through her curls. The full staff of nurses — all of them under Douglas’ sway — stumbling around his condo in a state of zonked out bliss as they roll on the prescription drugs they’ve stolen from the residents.
Once you’ve seen one shot of this movie, you’ve practically seen them all, at least until things escalate during a rushed and unsatisfying third act that forces Eleni into an honest confrontation with herself. People will do just about anything to feel needed — they’ll give whatever degree of care allows them to receive it in return. “Night Nurse” understands that desire, but remains far too numb to treat it.
Grade: C+
The Independent Film Company will relase “Night Nurse” in theaters on Friday, July 10.
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