We’re at the offices of Devisio Pictures, the film and TV production company he founded with his friend and collaborator, Archie Pearch. Dickinson took the train here. He did the same when travelling to set for Dazed’s cover story. “I was listening to Headie One on The Louis Theroux Podcast,” he tells me, before asking for some new music suggestions and telling me the story behind the big break that inevitably came.
The tape he sent off eight years ago was for Beach Rats (2017), an independent film by the American director, Eliza Hittman, which follows Frankie, a 19-year-old boy balancing the heteronormative demands of the day with his late-night homosexual escapades. Dickinson faked his Brooklyn accent on tape, being careful not to raise alarm bells about the necessary (and spenny) visa required to bring the East End boy to the east coast for filming. Nonetheless, he was cast as the lead. “He was subtle, thoughtful, intimate, warm and unforced. He understood intuitively [that] he didn’t need to externalise hegemonic masculinity for the role,” Hittman tells me over email. “[He] was the most professional 18-year-old first-time actor I have ever encountered. While we were working, I never felt like I needed to hold his hand because he was so self-assured.”
Since then, Dickinson has quietly made a name for himself, straddling the fence between independent and mainstream cinema. He’s played a Disney prince alongside Angelina Jolie in Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019), an unlucky but endearing young spy in The King’s Man (2021), and an equally hapless professional wrestler in this year’s The Iron Claw, opposite Zac Efron and Jeremy Allen White. But it’s his roles in independent flicks – as a career-criminal drug dealer preying on a young teen (County Lines, 2019); a quarterback whose untimely end unravels a town (Where the Crawdads Sing, 2022); or the young father reconciling a relationship with his estranged daughter (Scrapper, 2023) – that are arguably more noteworthy.
Undoubtedly, the biggest turning point in his career was playing Carl in Ruben Östlund’s Palme d’Or winner Triangle of Sadness (2022). A wild satire on outrageous wealth and excess that took enormous pleasure in tormenting its one-percenter protagonists, Dickinson did much to anchor the film in something more relatable. “When Harris came into the office and we had said hello, I thought that this guy was going to be too shy to really give me what I wanted. Half an hour later I was quite sure I was going to offer him the role. In the improv he had been screaming, ‘Don’t you fucking do that to me, Yaya!’ – I was playing Yaya – with a full-on authentic volcanic anger. I had never before seen a similar transformation,” Östlund tells me. “Harris was completely smooth and non-neurotic during the shooting. I don’t think I saw him even irritated once. I shouldn’t complain because he fucking delivered, but at the same time I can miss that with him because conflicts can bring you closer.”
Though his résumé precedes him, in person, Dickinson has all the casual pleasantries of a man whose burgeoning fame has not quite caught up with him yet. I understand what Östlund means when, after he spends the last 30 minutes of our chat roving around the room like he’s going to wet himself, I learn he was in fact on the verge of doing just that – but was more concerned with answering my questions with consideration, no matter how many cheeky last-minute additions I threw in. He talks with his hands, displaying the odd chipped mint-green nail, and often stares into the space behind me as if he’s visualising his words in the nooks and crannies of the room. Then, as if to assert his undivided attention, he’ll hold eye contact and draw me back in. For most of our interview, his shoes are off and he sits cradling his feet on the sofa opposite me. It makes the 6ft 2in 28-year-old seem pocketable in his Palace × Vivienne Westwood long-sleeved top and cosy sweatpants. It’s a far cry from the more suave version of Dickinson I spotted on a Prada campaign billboard with Damson Idris and Hunter Schafer.
Fashion-forward sidequests aside, we’re here to discuss Dickinson’s biggest role to date. In Babygirl, he stars alongside Nicole Kidman and Antonio Banderas in an erotic drama that shines a light on sexual desire in the post-MeToo American workplace: messy, contradictory and fraught with danger.
“I’m pretty vulnerable, but I’m scared of – well, I think everyone’s scared of admitting they’re losing the plot. We all want to seem like we’re so together” – Harris Dickinson
Dickinson was immediately drawn to the story. He loved Instinct (2019), Halina Reijn’s directorial debut, and the danger and high stakes of this new script were intriguing. “Nicole Kidman plays Romy, the boss of a robotics company, and she has an affair with my character, Sam,” he explains. “It’s Romy’s story. It’s about her world crumbling as a result of our relationship. It’s about desire. It’s about shame.”
Kidman’s Romy is a pencil-skirt- and pussy-bow blouse-wearing CEO, or “strategy expert and human expert”, balancing her busy office hours with a marriage and two kids. Samuel, played by Dickinson, is the first-day intern with an ill-fitting suit and a welcome pack in his company-branded tote. Romy pokes needles in her crow’s feet and takes cold plunges between trips to her upstate holiday home; Samuel works night shifts at a local bar, indulging in life key-to-the-nose and unafraid to push up against the wall she puts up between them. They’re both worlds and generations apart and yet they embark on a dangerous liaison built on the tension and possibilities between them, despite the sea of red flags and HR violations. When Romy, after a concerningly brief second thought, decides to use her husband’s name as a safeword, shit gets real.
Naturally, there was some apprehension. “The script that [Halina] wrote had these really complicated characters full of contradictions in the centre,” says Dickinson. “It was also frightening because of the vulnerability and sexuality, which is a topic that is obviously taboo in many senses. So there was a slight trepidation around it.” Is he scared of vulnerability?
“I used to be, but not any more. I think I’m pretty vulnerable, but I’m scared of – well, I think everyone’s scared of admitting they’re losing the plot. We all want to seem like we’re so together. It’s cliche, but [we should admit] that it’s all right not to feel all right.”
Instead of a tense dominance, there’s a thrill and relatable awkwardness in how the two characters attempt to navigate their desires and boundaries. There are no ‘bad guys’ per se, just flawed people losing themselves in the throes of it all. Predator becomes prey and vice versa as positions slip in and out of place. Is Romy taking advantage of Samuel? Or does that interpretation infantilise the rather conscious, calculated and at times callous young man who doesn’t question weaponising the power dynamic between the two? Whatever you might think, the film does well to keep the focus off Samuel and centred on Romy. In many ways, it’s not made to satisfy the audience.
There is some subtle foreshadowing during a scene in which Dickinson lies topless on the floor, cradled by Kidman. His real-life tattoo of an AK-47-wielding cherub in a balaclava is in clear view as he tells her, “Sometimes I scare myself,” before asking to be held. The baby-faced bandit is in full effect. It’s perhaps his most telling moment in the film. “I started to understand [Samuel] more because there was an element of youth and masculinity playing a role in his arc and his placement in the world,” says Dickinson. “The idea of him battling with what it means to be a man in today’s society with all the different standards and forms that masculinity can take. He’s confused, [but] a lot of young men are. They feel vulnerable, but they don’t know how to talk about vulnerability. They also don’t know how to talk about their aggression and their anger and their violence. Whether you’re a teenager going through the very basic hormonal changes that are really challenging to deal with, or you’re coming into your 20s trying understand where your place in the world is – I think he’s a really prime example of that. He starts at a new company as an intern yet somehow, he’s unafraid to approach the boss and be inappropriate. He’s a unique character and I found him to be quite endearing, to be honest, because he was an open book in many ways.”
There were moments when Dickinson’s inner child came out. During physical scenes with Banderas he had to catch himself, unable to quite fathom his life in the moment. “I was like, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing a scene with Zorro!’” he says, an expression of sheer disbelief still lingering. “Obviously, to work with Nicole, one of the GOATs of cinema, you can’t really say no to that in whatever capacity.”
“I feel like so many people love to put boundaries on characters when it’s pretty hard to do that with a real person. We act out of character all the time. We do things that contradict our personas”
For Reijn, working with Dickinson was a revelation – she points to a favourite scene that unfolds in the cheap hotel room where Romy and Samuel explore their sexual dynamic for the first time, experimenting with power, control and surrender. “They had to shift constantly and quickly between emotions – to be truthful and believable and make it funny, vulnerable and sexy at the same time,” she says. “It’s technically very complex to do but it looks as though they are making it up as they go. This creates an experience for us, the audience, as if we are there with them in that room. Harris brings such authenticity to every scene he is in, [with] such a wonderful sense of humour and playfulness that I just adore. He is one of the best actors of his generation and I was so honoured to work with him.”
Calling Babygirl a movie about adultery would be too simplistic. It succinctly captures how our desires can run rampant when repressed. How primal urges must be seen and heard. It’s a lesson in vulnerability and the responsibility shared between consenting parties in the pursuit of pleasure, a film that makes room for our quietest thoughts to grow loud and defiant. If all else fails, there’s a great dance scene with Dickinson showcasing some moves to George Michael’s “Father Figure”. And an unreleased Sky Ferreira track that soundtracks the credits.
At this year’s Venice Film Festival conference for Babygirl, Reijn said, “I don’t believe in good and evil. In a way, we are all both, and we need to keep shining a light on that. Because the moment we suppress it, that’s when it becomes dangerous. So that’s why I don’t want any of my characters to be punished, I just want them to be. And I think that’s when we can really connect to them and feel less alone.” Dickinson agrees. “I feel like so many people love to put boundaries on characters and narratives when it’s pretty hard to do that with a real person. We act out of character all the time. We do things that contradict our personas.” Does he think we are prisoners of our own instinct? “Yes, but we hide it. That’s what the film’s all about. It’s about trying to hide instincts, to hide basic desire and primal behaviours. I think we are told to hide a lot in polite society, so I think in many ways we are – what did you say? Prisoners to our own instinct. I like that. It’s a good T-shirt.”
Dickinson is as fascinated by the lives of others as they are increasingly of his, a trait that’s typical of his star sign. Unlike his character, Samuel, he isn’t reluctant to indulge in astrological conversations, but readily admits to knowing the bare minimum. With a knowing smirk, he asks me his characteristic traits. Born June 24, 1996, he falls under Cancer: loyal, caring, emotional and curious, with a propensity to be quite sensitive – not just with people but with environments and the energies around them, which, in Dickinson’s case, can often be in constant flux. One week it’s a standing ovation at Cannes, photobombing fellow celebrities at the Met Gala and casually showing face at Silverstone, the next it’s the weekly shop at his local supermarket and commuting to the office on public transport like the rest of us. “Over the years, I’ve learned to close up a bit because I’ve let too much energy in, and it drains me,” he says after some consideration. Actually, he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t drained.
Perhaps that’s because Dickinson tends to attract people: there is something about him that makes people open up. Particularly Uber drivers who indulge him with their life stories. Just recently, on a trip to LA, a driver began crying to Dickinson about his divorce en route from the airport. “I like to think I’m a good listener, but sometimes you don’t wanna be in it,” he starts, before getting up and pacing the room. “I love meeting new people, though; I’m a bit of a Labrador in that sense. I want to know [about them] so I understand why people do it to me, because I come across as open.”
Right now, Dickinson is in post-production with his feature directorial debut. Our interview acts as a moment of respite in the otherwise intense phase of an edit. Dream Space started filming in June and is being backed by the BFI and BBC Film. It follows the story of a drifter incapable of structure and finding difficulties participating in society. “It’s about the people that fall between the cracks,” he tells me. “It’s about mental health and about the ways in which the system fails people in certain ways.” It’s not entirely out of character for him to be going back behind the camera. After all, it’s how he spent the majority of his youth. In fact, directing has been a dream of his since he was a kid, and though he jokes about doing a Daniel Day-Lewis and jumping in and out of retirement on a whim, he hopes he can continue to juggle both on-screen and behind-the-lens roles, because, ultimately, he loves them both. “I like being in a team, but I also like having my own autonomy over things, and I think directing and writing gives me that,” he explains. “It lets me tell the stories I want to tell and dive into the worlds I want to get into, and acting is a different beast. I love it for many reasons and sometimes I struggle with it. It’s a strange world. So it’s nice to have both, as a selfish option.” Are there any other stories he would like to tell? “It’s so hard to be original now because so many things have been done and there are so many amazing people that came before us. It’s difficult to forge a new path, but I think there are so many distinct voices in cinema and the theatre. Sean Baker, Justine Triet, Julia Ducournau, Rose Glass, Molly Manning Walker and Charlotte Wells. There are these incredible voices that have their distinct vision, and you can’t mess with that.”
One story on the lips of a nation is the Beatles cinematic universe coming to a screen near you. Sam Mendes has signed on for not one but four individual biopics that will focus on each member of the iconic rock’n’roll band. There are rumours that Paul Mescal will play Paul McCartney and Barry Keoghan will take on Ringo Starr. Charlie Rowe’s name was connected to George Harrison, until he denied those claims. Most interestingly, Dickinson is rumoured to be playing the role of John Lennon. He cracks another knowing smile when I bring this up and says only that he feels honoured that people are throwing his name into the conversation. “There’s nothing I can say about that; it might not be true, it might be, I don’t know… there’s a speculation culture.”
The actor has recently seen Anora, starring his fellow cover star, Mikey Madison. He loved it so much he logged it on Letterboxd. I ask him for his most recent reviews but he never leaves a written response, only star ratings. “I saw The Substance also; I gave it four stars. Nights of Cabiria I gave four stars; that’s a Fellini movie, a really good film. And then Holy Motors – I love Leos Carax, I gave that four. And Fallen Angels, a Wong Kar-wai movie.” When I ask who inspires him most, with little to no thought, he says “Beyoncé”, before shrugging.
As we’re wrapping up, Dickinson walks over to a bookshelf and rifles through books including Gabrielle Chanel, 100 Contemporary Houses and an Antony Gormley monograph, in search of something. After rustling about for a few seconds, he passes me a Devisio-branded lighter in black with a bold, slightly stretched, white sans serif font. I don’t smoke but we agree that it’s always a great conversation starter if somebody asks for a light. We talk about rounding off the year and his plans for the future, once the edit of Dream Space is finalised. “We’ll see,” he says. “I might just have a bit of time off, to be honest, and enjoy doing other stuff. Pottering about, you know? Dreaming about things.”
Grooming JODY TAYLOR at LEFTSIDE CREATIVE using BABYLISS PRO and CHANEL BEAUTY, models HERBIE HOWARD at DAWN MASON INC., DENISE TAVERNIER, DEREK KEEFE, ELISE CORY, JACK OULTON, KATHLEEN KEEFE, LIZA BORZELLO, PAUL MANSELL, VALERIE HAZAN, WINSTON
HAYLES, set design JACK APPLEYARD at THE MAGNET AGENCY, photographic assistant
JIM TOBIAS, styling assistants HOLLY BARTLEY, OLIVIA LAGHI, MARIANGELA ORLANDO, MISHA DAVIS, tailoring CHLOE CAMMIDGE, set design assistants GIA JENKINS, production ROSCO, producers DANNY NEEDHAM, LEWIS TAYLOR, production coordinator KAJAL PATRA, production assistant GIGI REDHOUSE, post-production ALESSANDRO RAIMONDO, street casting NACHUM SHONN, special thanks LOFT STUDIOS
