Life has come full circle for new John Wick star
Years before Ana de Armas was using an ice skate to slice a neck in From the World of John Wick: Ballerina, she co-starred with Keanu Reeves in a much different film.
The erotic thriller Knock Knock, released in 2015, was de Armas' first Hollywood film. De Armas, born and raised in Cuba, had just come to Los Angeles after acting in Spain. English was new to her, so she had to learn her lines phonetically.
"It was tough and I felt miserable at times and very lonely," she says. "But I wanted to prove myself. I remember being in meetings with producers and they would be like, 'OK, I'll see you in a year when you learn English.' Before I left the office, I would say, 'I'll see you in two months'."
Since Knock Knock, her rise to stardom has been one of the last decade's most meteoric. She was radiant even as a hologram in Blade Runner 2049. She stole the show in Rian Johnson's star-studded Knives Out. She breezed through the Bond movie No Time to Die and was Oscar nominated for her Marilyn Monroe in Blonde.
And now, 10 years after those scenes with Reeves, de Armas is for the first time headlining a big summer action movie. In Ballerina, de Armas's progressive development as an unlikely action star reaches a butt-kicking crescendo, inheriting the mantle of one of the most esteemed, high-body-count franchises.
"It's a big moment in my career, and I know that. I can see that," she says. "It makes me look back in many ways, just being with Keanu in another film in such a different place in my career. It definitely gives me perspective of the journey and everything since we met. Things have come far since then."
While de Armas, 37, isn't new to movie stardom, or the tabloid coverage that comes with it, many of her career highlights have been streaming releases. The Gray Man and Blonde were Netflix. Ghosted was Apple TV+. But Ballerina will rely on de Armas (and abiding "John Wick" fandom) to put moviegoers in seats.
Reviews, particularly for de Armas playing a ballerina-assassin, have been good.
"There's a lot of pressure," says director Len Wiseman. "It's a lot to carry all on her shoulders. But she'll be the first person to tell you: 'Put it on. Let me carry the weight. I'm totally game'."
De Armas, whose talents include the ability to be present and personable on even the most frenzied red carpets, has done the globe-trotting work to make Ballerina a big deal: appearing at CinemaCon, gamely eating hot wings and cheerfully deflecting questions about her next film, Deeper, with Tom Cruise.
Yet for someone so comfortable in the spotlight, one of the more interesting facts about de Armas is that she lives part-time in that bastion of young A-listers: Vermont.
"Yeah, it surprised many people," she says, chuckling. "As soon as I went up there, I knew that was going to be a place that would bring me happiness and sanity and peace. But I know for a Cuban who doesn't like cold very much, it's very strange."
Winding up in northern New England is just as unexpected as landing an action movie like Ballerina. She grew up with the conviction, from age 12, that she would be an actor. But she studied theatre.
"I never thought I was going to do action," de Armas says. "What was relatable for me was watching Cuban actors on TV and in movies. That was my reality. That's all I knew, so the actors I looked up to were those."
De Armas also had bad asthma, which makes some of the things she does in Ballerina - a movie with a flamethrower duel - all the more remarkable to her.
"I couldn't do anything," she remembers. "I couldn't run. I sometimes couldn't play with my friends. I had to just be home and be still so I wouldn't get an asthma attack. So I never thought of myself as someone athletic or able to run just a block. So this has been a surprise."
At 14, she auditioned and got into Havana's National Theatre of Cuba. Four years later, with Spanish citizenship through her grandparents, she moved to Madrid to pursue acting. When she arrived in LA in 2014, she had to start all over again.
Now as one of the top Latina stars in Hollywood, she's watched as immigrant paths like hers have grown increasingly arduous if not impossible. The Trump administration recently announced a travel ban on 12 countries and heavy restrictions on citizens of other countries, including Cuba.
"I got here at a time when things were definitely easier in that sense," says de Armas, who announced her then-imminent US citizenship while hosting Saturday Night Live in 2023. "So I just feel very lucky for that. But it's difficult. Everything that's going on is very difficult and very sad and really challenging for many people. I definitely wish things were different."
Chad Stahelski, director of the four John Wick films and producer of Ballerina, was about to start production on John Wick: Chapter 4 when producer Basil Iwanyk called to set up a Zoom about casting de Armas. He quickly watched every scene she had been in.
"How many people would have played the Bond girl kind of goofy like that?" he asks. "I know that I can harden people up. I know I can make them the assassin, but getting the charm and the love and the humour out of someone is trickier. But she had it."
In Knives Out, Stahelski saw someone who could go from scared and uncertain to a look of "I'm going to stab you in the eye".
"I like that in my action heroes," he says. "I don't want to see the stoic, superhero vibe where everything's going to be OK."
But it wasn't just her acting or her charisma that convinced Stahelski. It was her life story.
"John Wick is all hard work - and I don't mean just in the training. You've got to love it and put yourself out there," says Stahelski. "When you get her story about how she came from the age of 12, got into acting, what she sacrificed, what she did, that's what got my attention. 'Oh, she's a perseverer. She doesn't just enjoy the view, she enjoys the climb'."
When that quote is read back to her, de Armas laughs, and agrees.
"Being Cuban, and my upbringing and my family and everything I've done, I've never had a plan B," she says. "I've never had that thing of, 'Well, if it doesn't work, my family can help.' Or, 'I can do this other career.' This was it. This is how I feed myself and my family. So it's also a sense of, I don't know, responsibility."
That makes her reflect back to when she was just trying to make it in Hollywood, sounding out words and trying not to be intimidated by the action star across from her.
"I was so committed to do it," she says. "When I give something a shot, I try my best, whatever that is. Then I can actually say: I gave it a shot."
Years before Ana de Armas was using an ice skate to slice a neck in From the World of John Wick: Ballerina, she co-starred with Keanu Reeves in a much different film.
The erotic thriller Knock Knock, released in 2015, was de Armas' first Hollywood film. De Armas, born and raised in Cuba, had just come to Los Angeles after acting in Spain. English was new to her, so she had to learn her lines phonetically.
"It was tough and I felt miserable at times and very lonely," she says. "But I wanted to prove myself. I remember being in meetings with producers and they would be like, 'OK, I'll see you in a year when you learn English.' Before I left the office, I would say, 'I'll see you in two months'."
Since Knock Knock, her rise to stardom has been one of the last decade's most meteoric. She was radiant even as a hologram in Blade Runner 2049. She stole the show in Rian Johnson's star-studded Knives Out. She breezed through the Bond movie No Time to Die and was Oscar nominated for her Marilyn Monroe in Blonde.
And now, 10 years after those scenes with Reeves, de Armas is for the first time headlining a big summer action movie. In Ballerina, de Armas's progressive development as an unlikely action star reaches a butt-kicking crescendo, inheriting the mantle of one of the most esteemed, high-body-count franchises.
"It's a big moment in my career, and I know that. I can see that," she says. "It makes me look back in many ways, just being with Keanu in another film in such a different place in my career. It definitely gives me perspective of the journey and everything since we met. Things have come far since then."
While de Armas, 37, isn't new to movie stardom, or the tabloid coverage that comes with it, many of her career highlights have been streaming releases. The Gray Man and Blonde were Netflix. Ghosted was Apple TV+. But Ballerina will rely on de Armas (and abiding "John Wick" fandom) to put moviegoers in seats.
Reviews, particularly for de Armas playing a ballerina-assassin, have been good.
"There's a lot of pressure," says director Len Wiseman. "It's a lot to carry all on her shoulders. But she'll be the first person to tell you: 'Put it on. Let me carry the weight. I'm totally game'."
De Armas, whose talents include the ability to be present and personable on even the most frenzied red carpets, has done the globe-trotting work to make Ballerina a big deal: appearing at CinemaCon, gamely eating hot wings and cheerfully deflecting questions about her next film, Deeper, with Tom Cruise.
Yet for someone so comfortable in the spotlight, one of the more interesting facts about de Armas is that she lives part-time in that bastion of young A-listers: Vermont.
"Yeah, it surprised many people," she says, chuckling. "As soon as I went up there, I knew that was going to be a place that would bring me happiness and sanity and peace. But I know for a Cuban who doesn't like cold very much, it's very strange."
Winding up in northern New England is just as unexpected as landing an action movie like Ballerina. She grew up with the conviction, from age 12, that she would be an actor. But she studied theatre.
"I never thought I was going to do action," de Armas says. "What was relatable for me was watching Cuban actors on TV and in movies. That was my reality. That's all I knew, so the actors I looked up to were those."
De Armas also had bad asthma, which makes some of the things she does in Ballerina - a movie with a flamethrower duel - all the more remarkable to her.
"I couldn't do anything," she remembers. "I couldn't run. I sometimes couldn't play with my friends. I had to just be home and be still so I wouldn't get an asthma attack. So I never thought of myself as someone athletic or able to run just a block. So this has been a surprise."
At 14, she auditioned and got into Havana's National Theatre of Cuba. Four years later, with Spanish citizenship through her grandparents, she moved to Madrid to pursue acting. When she arrived in LA in 2014, she had to start all over again.
Now as one of the top Latina stars in Hollywood, she's watched as immigrant paths like hers have grown increasingly arduous if not impossible. The Trump administration recently announced a travel ban on 12 countries and heavy restrictions on citizens of other countries, including Cuba.
"I got here at a time when things were definitely easier in that sense," says de Armas, who announced her then-imminent US citizenship while hosting Saturday Night Live in 2023. "So I just feel very lucky for that. But it's difficult. Everything that's going on is very difficult and very sad and really challenging for many people. I definitely wish things were different."
Chad Stahelski, director of the four John Wick films and producer of Ballerina, was about to start production on John Wick: Chapter 4 when producer Basil Iwanyk called to set up a Zoom about casting de Armas. He quickly watched every scene she had been in.
"How many people would have played the Bond girl kind of goofy like that?" he asks. "I know that I can harden people up. I know I can make them the assassin, but getting the charm and the love and the humour out of someone is trickier. But she had it."
In Knives Out, Stahelski saw someone who could go from scared and uncertain to a look of "I'm going to stab you in the eye".
"I like that in my action heroes," he says. "I don't want to see the stoic, superhero vibe where everything's going to be OK."
But it wasn't just her acting or her charisma that convinced Stahelski. It was her life story.
"John Wick is all hard work - and I don't mean just in the training. You've got to love it and put yourself out there," says Stahelski. "When you get her story about how she came from the age of 12, got into acting, what she sacrificed, what she did, that's what got my attention. 'Oh, she's a perseverer. She doesn't just enjoy the view, she enjoys the climb'."
When that quote is read back to her, de Armas laughs, and agrees.
"Being Cuban, and my upbringing and my family and everything I've done, I've never had a plan B," she says. "I've never had that thing of, 'Well, if it doesn't work, my family can help.' Or, 'I can do this other career.' This was it. This is how I feed myself and my family. So it's also a sense of, I don't know, responsibility."
That makes her reflect back to when she was just trying to make it in Hollywood, sounding out words and trying not to be intimidated by the action star across from her.
"I was so committed to do it," she says. "When I give something a shot, I try my best, whatever that is. Then I can actually say: I gave it a shot."
Years before Ana de Armas was using an ice skate to slice a neck in From the World of John Wick: Ballerina, she co-starred with Keanu Reeves in a much different film.
The erotic thriller Knock Knock, released in 2015, was de Armas' first Hollywood film. De Armas, born and raised in Cuba, had just come to Los Angeles after acting in Spain. English was new to her, so she had to learn her lines phonetically.
"It was tough and I felt miserable at times and very lonely," she says. "But I wanted to prove myself. I remember being in meetings with producers and they would be like, 'OK, I'll see you in a year when you learn English.' Before I left the office, I would say, 'I'll see you in two months'."
Since Knock Knock, her rise to stardom has been one of the last decade's most meteoric. She was radiant even as a hologram in Blade Runner 2049. She stole the show in Rian Johnson's star-studded Knives Out. She breezed through the Bond movie No Time to Die and was Oscar nominated for her Marilyn Monroe in Blonde.
And now, 10 years after those scenes with Reeves, de Armas is for the first time headlining a big summer action movie. In Ballerina, de Armas's progressive development as an unlikely action star reaches a butt-kicking crescendo, inheriting the mantle of one of the most esteemed, high-body-count franchises.
"It's a big moment in my career, and I know that. I can see that," she says. "It makes me look back in many ways, just being with Keanu in another film in such a different place in my career. It definitely gives me perspective of the journey and everything since we met. Things have come far since then."
While de Armas, 37, isn't new to movie stardom, or the tabloid coverage that comes with it, many of her career highlights have been streaming releases. The Gray Man and Blonde were Netflix. Ghosted was Apple TV+. But Ballerina will rely on de Armas (and abiding "John Wick" fandom) to put moviegoers in seats.
Reviews, particularly for de Armas playing a ballerina-assassin, have been good.
"There's a lot of pressure," says director Len Wiseman. "It's a lot to carry all on her shoulders. But she'll be the first person to tell you: 'Put it on. Let me carry the weight. I'm totally game'."
De Armas, whose talents include the ability to be present and personable on even the most frenzied red carpets, has done the globe-trotting work to make Ballerina a big deal: appearing at CinemaCon, gamely eating hot wings and cheerfully deflecting questions about her next film, Deeper, with Tom Cruise.
Yet for someone so comfortable in the spotlight, one of the more interesting facts about de Armas is that she lives part-time in that bastion of young A-listers: Vermont.
"Yeah, it surprised many people," she says, chuckling. "As soon as I went up there, I knew that was going to be a place that would bring me happiness and sanity and peace. But I know for a Cuban who doesn't like cold very much, it's very strange."
Winding up in northern New England is just as unexpected as landing an action movie like Ballerina. She grew up with the conviction, from age 12, that she would be an actor. But she studied theatre.
"I never thought I was going to do action," de Armas says. "What was relatable for me was watching Cuban actors on TV and in movies. That was my reality. That's all I knew, so the actors I looked up to were those."
De Armas also had bad asthma, which makes some of the things she does in Ballerina - a movie with a flamethrower duel - all the more remarkable to her.
"I couldn't do anything," she remembers. "I couldn't run. I sometimes couldn't play with my friends. I had to just be home and be still so I wouldn't get an asthma attack. So I never thought of myself as someone athletic or able to run just a block. So this has been a surprise."
At 14, she auditioned and got into Havana's National Theatre of Cuba. Four years later, with Spanish citizenship through her grandparents, she moved to Madrid to pursue acting. When she arrived in LA in 2014, she had to start all over again.
Now as one of the top Latina stars in Hollywood, she's watched as immigrant paths like hers have grown increasingly arduous if not impossible. The Trump administration recently announced a travel ban on 12 countries and heavy restrictions on citizens of other countries, including Cuba.
"I got here at a time when things were definitely easier in that sense," says de Armas, who announced her then-imminent US citizenship while hosting Saturday Night Live in 2023. "So I just feel very lucky for that. But it's difficult. Everything that's going on is very difficult and very sad and really challenging for many people. I definitely wish things were different."
Chad Stahelski, director of the four John Wick films and producer of Ballerina, was about to start production on John Wick: Chapter 4 when producer Basil Iwanyk called to set up a Zoom about casting de Armas. He quickly watched every scene she had been in.
"How many people would have played the Bond girl kind of goofy like that?" he asks. "I know that I can harden people up. I know I can make them the assassin, but getting the charm and the love and the humour out of someone is trickier. But she had it."
In Knives Out, Stahelski saw someone who could go from scared and uncertain to a look of "I'm going to stab you in the eye".
"I like that in my action heroes," he says. "I don't want to see the stoic, superhero vibe where everything's going to be OK."
But it wasn't just her acting or her charisma that convinced Stahelski. It was her life story.
"John Wick is all hard work - and I don't mean just in the training. You've got to love it and put yourself out there," says Stahelski. "When you get her story about how she came from the age of 12, got into acting, what she sacrificed, what she did, that's what got my attention. 'Oh, she's a perseverer. She doesn't just enjoy the view, she enjoys the climb'."
When that quote is read back to her, de Armas laughs, and agrees.
"Being Cuban, and my upbringing and my family and everything I've done, I've never had a plan B," she says. "I've never had that thing of, 'Well, if it doesn't work, my family can help.' Or, 'I can do this other career.' This was it. This is how I feed myself and my family. So it's also a sense of, I don't know, responsibility."
That makes her reflect back to when she was just trying to make it in Hollywood, sounding out words and trying not to be intimidated by the action star across from her.
"I was so committed to do it," she says. "When I give something a shot, I try my best, whatever that is. Then I can actually say: I gave it a shot."
Years before Ana de Armas was using an ice skate to slice a neck in From the World of John Wick: Ballerina, she co-starred with Keanu Reeves in a much different film.
The erotic thriller Knock Knock, released in 2015, was de Armas' first Hollywood film. De Armas, born and raised in Cuba, had just come to Los Angeles after acting in Spain. English was new to her, so she had to learn her lines phonetically.
"It was tough and I felt miserable at times and very lonely," she says. "But I wanted to prove myself. I remember being in meetings with producers and they would be like, 'OK, I'll see you in a year when you learn English.' Before I left the office, I would say, 'I'll see you in two months'."
Since Knock Knock, her rise to stardom has been one of the last decade's most meteoric. She was radiant even as a hologram in Blade Runner 2049. She stole the show in Rian Johnson's star-studded Knives Out. She breezed through the Bond movie No Time to Die and was Oscar nominated for her Marilyn Monroe in Blonde.
And now, 10 years after those scenes with Reeves, de Armas is for the first time headlining a big summer action movie. In Ballerina, de Armas's progressive development as an unlikely action star reaches a butt-kicking crescendo, inheriting the mantle of one of the most esteemed, high-body-count franchises.
"It's a big moment in my career, and I know that. I can see that," she says. "It makes me look back in many ways, just being with Keanu in another film in such a different place in my career. It definitely gives me perspective of the journey and everything since we met. Things have come far since then."
While de Armas, 37, isn't new to movie stardom, or the tabloid coverage that comes with it, many of her career highlights have been streaming releases. The Gray Man and Blonde were Netflix. Ghosted was Apple TV+. But Ballerina will rely on de Armas (and abiding "John Wick" fandom) to put moviegoers in seats.
Reviews, particularly for de Armas playing a ballerina-assassin, have been good.
"There's a lot of pressure," says director Len Wiseman. "It's a lot to carry all on her shoulders. But she'll be the first person to tell you: 'Put it on. Let me carry the weight. I'm totally game'."
De Armas, whose talents include the ability to be present and personable on even the most frenzied red carpets, has done the globe-trotting work to make Ballerina a big deal: appearing at CinemaCon, gamely eating hot wings and cheerfully deflecting questions about her next film, Deeper, with Tom Cruise.
Yet for someone so comfortable in the spotlight, one of the more interesting facts about de Armas is that she lives part-time in that bastion of young A-listers: Vermont.
"Yeah, it surprised many people," she says, chuckling. "As soon as I went up there, I knew that was going to be a place that would bring me happiness and sanity and peace. But I know for a Cuban who doesn't like cold very much, it's very strange."
Winding up in northern New England is just as unexpected as landing an action movie like Ballerina. She grew up with the conviction, from age 12, that she would be an actor. But she studied theatre.
"I never thought I was going to do action," de Armas says. "What was relatable for me was watching Cuban actors on TV and in movies. That was my reality. That's all I knew, so the actors I looked up to were those."
De Armas also had bad asthma, which makes some of the things she does in Ballerina - a movie with a flamethrower duel - all the more remarkable to her.
"I couldn't do anything," she remembers. "I couldn't run. I sometimes couldn't play with my friends. I had to just be home and be still so I wouldn't get an asthma attack. So I never thought of myself as someone athletic or able to run just a block. So this has been a surprise."
At 14, she auditioned and got into Havana's National Theatre of Cuba. Four years later, with Spanish citizenship through her grandparents, she moved to Madrid to pursue acting. When she arrived in LA in 2014, she had to start all over again.
Now as one of the top Latina stars in Hollywood, she's watched as immigrant paths like hers have grown increasingly arduous if not impossible. The Trump administration recently announced a travel ban on 12 countries and heavy restrictions on citizens of other countries, including Cuba.
"I got here at a time when things were definitely easier in that sense," says de Armas, who announced her then-imminent US citizenship while hosting Saturday Night Live in 2023. "So I just feel very lucky for that. But it's difficult. Everything that's going on is very difficult and very sad and really challenging for many people. I definitely wish things were different."
Chad Stahelski, director of the four John Wick films and producer of Ballerina, was about to start production on John Wick: Chapter 4 when producer Basil Iwanyk called to set up a Zoom about casting de Armas. He quickly watched every scene she had been in.
"How many people would have played the Bond girl kind of goofy like that?" he asks. "I know that I can harden people up. I know I can make them the assassin, but getting the charm and the love and the humour out of someone is trickier. But she had it."
In Knives Out, Stahelski saw someone who could go from scared and uncertain to a look of "I'm going to stab you in the eye".
"I like that in my action heroes," he says. "I don't want to see the stoic, superhero vibe where everything's going to be OK."
But it wasn't just her acting or her charisma that convinced Stahelski. It was her life story.
"John Wick is all hard work - and I don't mean just in the training. You've got to love it and put yourself out there," says Stahelski. "When you get her story about how she came from the age of 12, got into acting, what she sacrificed, what she did, that's what got my attention. 'Oh, she's a perseverer. She doesn't just enjoy the view, she enjoys the climb'."
When that quote is read back to her, de Armas laughs, and agrees.
"Being Cuban, and my upbringing and my family and everything I've done, I've never had a plan B," she says. "I've never had that thing of, 'Well, if it doesn't work, my family can help.' Or, 'I can do this other career.' This was it. This is how I feed myself and my family. So it's also a sense of, I don't know, responsibility."
That makes her reflect back to when she was just trying to make it in Hollywood, sounding out words and trying not to be intimidated by the action star across from her.
"I was so committed to do it," she says. "When I give something a shot, I try my best, whatever that is. Then I can actually say: I gave it a shot."
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A vulgar up-yours to the compromises of democracy and the checks on executive power by laws, courts, multilateral bodies and international norms. As Hugh White notes in his latest insightful Quarterly Essay, "Hard New World: Our Post-American Future", the nation which had saved democracy, then created and policed a post-war rules-based international order, has gone and is not coming back. Now, an avowed America First isolationist scoffs at such an order (globally and domestically) and ridicules the haughty ethics that had underpinned it. Even last week, Trump arrived at the G7 only to complain that Vladimir Putin should be there too. To bend McEwan's balloon dilemma further, Australia might ask itself a further question: are we the poor sods clinging white-knuckled to guy ropes? Or are we perhaps the panicked child cowering in the basket, too frightened to determine our own survival as a sovereign nation? Few stories start in a more compelling way than Ian McEwan's brilliant novel Enduring Love (1997). Several men, strangers to each other, rush across an English field converging on a stricken helium balloon as they try frantically to hold it grounded long enough to free a child cowering in its basket. As the ungainly apparatus is gusted violently aloft during a wind squall, the men suddenly find themselves "treading air", each facing a terrible choice - whether to hang on in the hope their collective weight will bring it down again or let go before rising too high to survive the fall. It might seem rich to describe Australia's umbilical attachment to the United States as an enduring love, but that unanswerable question in the untethered balloon scene feels disturbingly apt. As does the book's title. The bilateral relationship has survived long enough to natural, even definitional. With that "enduring", though, has come less admirable attributes like unbalanced, fawning, and captive. Hence the reckless conservative boast that Australians have fought alongside Americans in every war they've undertaken since 1900. This includes moral, legal, and strategic outrages like Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. Like McEwan's disparate characters twisting precariously on guy ropes and slaves to untameable forces of physics, the existential question of whether to cling on or let go, is fast becoming existential. Not that the cheerleaders of the AUKUS caucus are awake to it. While the US talks openly of rehabilitating Russia, invading Greenland and seizing the Panama Canal, they mouth terms like strategic alignment, shared values, cooperation and interoperability. In so many ways, McEwan's exquisitely described dilemma seems like a fitting metaphor for this instant. A temporally reflexive metaphor that works, albeit in different ways, for Australia, for Iran, for Israel, and even for those democracies keeping schtum as another American president contemplates a Middle Eastern war. And as Israel reveals its bottomless reserves of military power and lawless vengeance. In short order, Iran must decide if it is to surrender its nuclear enrichment capacities - even for exclusively peaceful domestic purposes like medical isotopes - or face a US aerial bombardment of unimaginable ferocity. Israel must decide, in the same compressed timeframe, if it is to accommodate such assurances - should Donald Trump insist(?) - or fight on condemning Israelis to further carnage and the state itself to perennial insecurity in its region. It is a choice between an unlikely peace and the guarantee of endless war and an ever-enduring hate. The oafish Trump has no plan. He has bought himself a mere fortnight to decide between backing off or pursuing a path he expressly campaigned against. McEwan's well-meaning strangers who've sprinted towards the flailing balloon exhibit some characteristics of the international community. In the nine days since Israel's far-right Netanyahu government began bombing Iran's nuclear sites without warning, a kind of uncoordinated helplessness has taken hold. Those gathered in Canada for the G7 caved instantly to US and Israeli pressure, citing the Jewish state's limitless "right to defend itself". The group called Iran the "principal source of regional instability". While the criticism of Iran is justified, one might have expected the top liberal states to weigh more heavily the authoritative opinions of international legal scholars such as Professor Ben Saul, Challis chair of international law at the University of Sydney and UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights and Counter Terrorism. Saul says Israel's claimed legal impunity simply does not apply here. "Israel claims that its attack is necessary to prevent Iran acquiring nuclear weapons and using them in the future. The problem is that under international law, a country may only defend itself from an actual or imminent armed attack by another country," wrote Saul in the Guardian. As the rules break down, such facts have become ethereal, prone to dissipating, like so much helium. READ MORE KENNY: It is worth remembering that the trend to American unreliability now so blatant, started more than two decades ago, when fragmentary intelligence was deliberately "sexed up" to look like solid intel ahead of the Iraq invasion. America's "forever wars" in Iraq and Afghanistan, with the attendant abuses of Abu Ghraib and the eventual surrender to the very Taliban it had expelled - signalled a loss of prestige internationally. But they also sparked a crisis at the moral and institutional core of America. The nativist, protectionist, anti-establishment Trump is its indignant progeny. A vulgar up-yours to the compromises of democracy and the checks on executive power by laws, courts, multilateral bodies and international norms. As Hugh White notes in his latest insightful Quarterly Essay, "Hard New World: Our Post-American Future", the nation which had saved democracy, then created and policed a post-war rules-based international order, has gone and is not coming back. Now, an avowed America First isolationist scoffs at such an order (globally and domestically) and ridicules the haughty ethics that had underpinned it. Even last week, Trump arrived at the G7 only to complain that Vladimir Putin should be there too. To bend McEwan's balloon dilemma further, Australia might ask itself a further question: are we the poor sods clinging white-knuckled to guy ropes? Or are we perhaps the panicked child cowering in the basket, too frightened to determine our own survival as a sovereign nation? Few stories start in a more compelling way than Ian McEwan's brilliant novel Enduring Love (1997). Several men, strangers to each other, rush across an English field converging on a stricken helium balloon as they try frantically to hold it grounded long enough to free a child cowering in its basket. As the ungainly apparatus is gusted violently aloft during a wind squall, the men suddenly find themselves "treading air", each facing a terrible choice - whether to hang on in the hope their collective weight will bring it down again or let go before rising too high to survive the fall. It might seem rich to describe Australia's umbilical attachment to the United States as an enduring love, but that unanswerable question in the untethered balloon scene feels disturbingly apt. As does the book's title. The bilateral relationship has survived long enough to natural, even definitional. With that "enduring", though, has come less admirable attributes like unbalanced, fawning, and captive. Hence the reckless conservative boast that Australians have fought alongside Americans in every war they've undertaken since 1900. This includes moral, legal, and strategic outrages like Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. Like McEwan's disparate characters twisting precariously on guy ropes and slaves to untameable forces of physics, the existential question of whether to cling on or let go, is fast becoming existential. Not that the cheerleaders of the AUKUS caucus are awake to it. While the US talks openly of rehabilitating Russia, invading Greenland and seizing the Panama Canal, they mouth terms like strategic alignment, shared values, cooperation and interoperability. In so many ways, McEwan's exquisitely described dilemma seems like a fitting metaphor for this instant. A temporally reflexive metaphor that works, albeit in different ways, for Australia, for Iran, for Israel, and even for those democracies keeping schtum as another American president contemplates a Middle Eastern war. And as Israel reveals its bottomless reserves of military power and lawless vengeance. In short order, Iran must decide if it is to surrender its nuclear enrichment capacities - even for exclusively peaceful domestic purposes like medical isotopes - or face a US aerial bombardment of unimaginable ferocity. Israel must decide, in the same compressed timeframe, if it is to accommodate such assurances - should Donald Trump insist(?) - or fight on condemning Israelis to further carnage and the state itself to perennial insecurity in its region. It is a choice between an unlikely peace and the guarantee of endless war and an ever-enduring hate. The oafish Trump has no plan. He has bought himself a mere fortnight to decide between backing off or pursuing a path he expressly campaigned against. McEwan's well-meaning strangers who've sprinted towards the flailing balloon exhibit some characteristics of the international community. In the nine days since Israel's far-right Netanyahu government began bombing Iran's nuclear sites without warning, a kind of uncoordinated helplessness has taken hold. Those gathered in Canada for the G7 caved instantly to US and Israeli pressure, citing the Jewish state's limitless "right to defend itself". The group called Iran the "principal source of regional instability". While the criticism of Iran is justified, one might have expected the top liberal states to weigh more heavily the authoritative opinions of international legal scholars such as Professor Ben Saul, Challis chair of international law at the University of Sydney and UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights and Counter Terrorism. Saul says Israel's claimed legal impunity simply does not apply here. "Israel claims that its attack is necessary to prevent Iran acquiring nuclear weapons and using them in the future. The problem is that under international law, a country may only defend itself from an actual or imminent armed attack by another country," wrote Saul in the Guardian. As the rules break down, such facts have become ethereal, prone to dissipating, like so much helium. READ MORE KENNY: It is worth remembering that the trend to American unreliability now so blatant, started more than two decades ago, when fragmentary intelligence was deliberately "sexed up" to look like solid intel ahead of the Iraq invasion. America's "forever wars" in Iraq and Afghanistan, with the attendant abuses of Abu Ghraib and the eventual surrender to the very Taliban it had expelled - signalled a loss of prestige internationally. But they also sparked a crisis at the moral and institutional core of America. The nativist, protectionist, anti-establishment Trump is its indignant progeny. A vulgar up-yours to the compromises of democracy and the checks on executive power by laws, courts, multilateral bodies and international norms. As Hugh White notes in his latest insightful Quarterly Essay, "Hard New World: Our Post-American Future", the nation which had saved democracy, then created and policed a post-war rules-based international order, has gone and is not coming back. Now, an avowed America First isolationist scoffs at such an order (globally and domestically) and ridicules the haughty ethics that had underpinned it. Even last week, Trump arrived at the G7 only to complain that Vladimir Putin should be there too. To bend McEwan's balloon dilemma further, Australia might ask itself a further question: are we the poor sods clinging white-knuckled to guy ropes? Or are we perhaps the panicked child cowering in the basket, too frightened to determine our own survival as a sovereign nation? Few stories start in a more compelling way than Ian McEwan's brilliant novel Enduring Love (1997). Several men, strangers to each other, rush across an English field converging on a stricken helium balloon as they try frantically to hold it grounded long enough to free a child cowering in its basket. As the ungainly apparatus is gusted violently aloft during a wind squall, the men suddenly find themselves "treading air", each facing a terrible choice - whether to hang on in the hope their collective weight will bring it down again or let go before rising too high to survive the fall. It might seem rich to describe Australia's umbilical attachment to the United States as an enduring love, but that unanswerable question in the untethered balloon scene feels disturbingly apt. As does the book's title. The bilateral relationship has survived long enough to natural, even definitional. With that "enduring", though, has come less admirable attributes like unbalanced, fawning, and captive. Hence the reckless conservative boast that Australians have fought alongside Americans in every war they've undertaken since 1900. This includes moral, legal, and strategic outrages like Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. Like McEwan's disparate characters twisting precariously on guy ropes and slaves to untameable forces of physics, the existential question of whether to cling on or let go, is fast becoming existential. Not that the cheerleaders of the AUKUS caucus are awake to it. While the US talks openly of rehabilitating Russia, invading Greenland and seizing the Panama Canal, they mouth terms like strategic alignment, shared values, cooperation and interoperability. In so many ways, McEwan's exquisitely described dilemma seems like a fitting metaphor for this instant. A temporally reflexive metaphor that works, albeit in different ways, for Australia, for Iran, for Israel, and even for those democracies keeping schtum as another American president contemplates a Middle Eastern war. And as Israel reveals its bottomless reserves of military power and lawless vengeance. In short order, Iran must decide if it is to surrender its nuclear enrichment capacities - even for exclusively peaceful domestic purposes like medical isotopes - or face a US aerial bombardment of unimaginable ferocity. Israel must decide, in the same compressed timeframe, if it is to accommodate such assurances - should Donald Trump insist(?) - or fight on condemning Israelis to further carnage and the state itself to perennial insecurity in its region. It is a choice between an unlikely peace and the guarantee of endless war and an ever-enduring hate. The oafish Trump has no plan. He has bought himself a mere fortnight to decide between backing off or pursuing a path he expressly campaigned against. McEwan's well-meaning strangers who've sprinted towards the flailing balloon exhibit some characteristics of the international community. In the nine days since Israel's far-right Netanyahu government began bombing Iran's nuclear sites without warning, a kind of uncoordinated helplessness has taken hold. Those gathered in Canada for the G7 caved instantly to US and Israeli pressure, citing the Jewish state's limitless "right to defend itself". The group called Iran the "principal source of regional instability". While the criticism of Iran is justified, one might have expected the top liberal states to weigh more heavily the authoritative opinions of international legal scholars such as Professor Ben Saul, Challis chair of international law at the University of Sydney and UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights and Counter Terrorism. Saul says Israel's claimed legal impunity simply does not apply here. "Israel claims that its attack is necessary to prevent Iran acquiring nuclear weapons and using them in the future. The problem is that under international law, a country may only defend itself from an actual or imminent armed attack by another country," wrote Saul in the Guardian. As the rules break down, such facts have become ethereal, prone to dissipating, like so much helium. READ MORE KENNY: It is worth remembering that the trend to American unreliability now so blatant, started more than two decades ago, when fragmentary intelligence was deliberately "sexed up" to look like solid intel ahead of the Iraq invasion. America's "forever wars" in Iraq and Afghanistan, with the attendant abuses of Abu Ghraib and the eventual surrender to the very Taliban it had expelled - signalled a loss of prestige internationally. But they also sparked a crisis at the moral and institutional core of America. The nativist, protectionist, anti-establishment Trump is its indignant progeny. A vulgar up-yours to the compromises of democracy and the checks on executive power by laws, courts, multilateral bodies and international norms. As Hugh White notes in his latest insightful Quarterly Essay, "Hard New World: Our Post-American Future", the nation which had saved democracy, then created and policed a post-war rules-based international order, has gone and is not coming back. Now, an avowed America First isolationist scoffs at such an order (globally and domestically) and ridicules the haughty ethics that had underpinned it. Even last week, Trump arrived at the G7 only to complain that Vladimir Putin should be there too. To bend McEwan's balloon dilemma further, Australia might ask itself a further question: are we the poor sods clinging white-knuckled to guy ropes? Or are we perhaps the panicked child cowering in the basket, too frightened to determine our own survival as a sovereign nation?
Sydney Morning Herald
15 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
The team behind Top Gun takes on F1 in this year's biggest blockbuster
Sitting in a hotel in 2023, Damson Idris had just landed the most important role of his life. Legendary producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Joe Kosinski, the team who took over the box office (OK, and the world) with Top Gun: Maverick, wanted Idris for their high-stakes Formula 1 blockbuster, F1. Idris would play Joshua Pearce, a young gun rookie modelled on Lewis Hamilton (also a producer on the film), and Brad Pitt would play his team-mate and rival, Sonny Hayes, a grizzled veteran who returns to the sport to partner Pearce on the fictional APXGP team. As far as big breaks go, they don't come much bigger than this. So you'd imagine Idris' mind might be racing faster than the F1 car he didn't know how to drive (but would soon master). 'Not really,' deadpans Idris, speaking to me from South Africa, where he is shooting his next film. 'I was just consumed by one thought: I need to be faster than Brad Pitt.' Fast-forward a year or so, and after hundreds of hours on the practice circuit, seven months of training, more than a few crashes, several headaches, and roughly eight kilos lost purely from sweating on set, Idris learned a valuable lesson. 'Brad Pitt is annoyingly good at everything,' he laughs. 'And I mean everything: acting, racing, even walking. The way he walks on screen is second to none.' I mention that one of my favourite YouTube clips is a super cut of Brad Pitt eating in all his different films (it's called 15 Minutes of Brad Pitt Eating, and well worth a watch). 'Oh, don't worry, I've seen it,' says Idris. 'I attempted eating in one scene during F1, and they scrapped it, and you know what? Good on them. I'm with the greatest on-screen eater of all time. Come on, man, what were you thinking?' 'What were you thinking?' is a question I've been meaning to ask director Joseph Kosinski. In 2022, he helped 'save cinema' (Spielberg's words, not mine) with Top Gun: Maverick, a sweeping sequel to the 1986 original that was critically and commercially celebrated, grossing $1.496 billion worldwide at the box office. Such a feat warrants time off. A mini-break. Honestly, Joe, what were you thinking? 'Well, as with so many people, during the pandemic, I became obsessed with Drive to Survive on Netflix,' says Kosinski. 'I went to school for mechanical engineering and aerospace, so the way these cars work is fascinating to me, and then factor in the personalities and team dynamics, it's rich with story.' Pitt and Bruckheimer shared Kosinski's obsession, and they all agreed that if they were going to make a racing film, it had to look real. The first step was getting Formula 1 on board as an official partner on the film, with a view to embedding production in real Grand Prix races worldwide. Having seen F1's popularity surge following Netflix's Drive to Survive, CEO Stefano Domenicali was open to the idea but harboured concerns about how the sport would come across. Thankfully, super producer Jerry Bruckheimer is no stranger to sweet-talking nervy organisations. 'When I did the first Top Gun, the navy was worried about how they'd be portrayed, so Tom Cruise and I went to the US Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego to convince them it would be a good thing, and instead the admiral threw us off the base,' laughs Bruckheimer. 'So Tom went to Washington and met with the Secretary of the Navy at the time, and he understood what a movie could do for recruitment. We got to shoot Top Gun, and after it came out, naval recruitment went up 500%. Oh, and the other admiral was fired.' Bruckheimer's Top Gun -inspired pitch was enough to convince Domenicali, and the group secured Formula 1 as an official partner, allowing them to film at 14 Grand Prix events. Current F1 drivers, including our very own Oscar Piastri, agreed to appear. The next hurdle was figuring out how to bring the audience inside the chaos of a machine that can reach a top speed of 374.97 km/h. 'Cameras,' says Kosinski, perking up. 'And lots of them.' He's not lying. To ensure authenticity, the film's team, in collaboration with Mercedes-AMG and Formula 1 team engineers, built six F2 cars, which were then customised to resemble modern F1 cars. Each car came affixed with four IMAX-certified cameras in 15 possible positions, plus up to six additional cameras inside the car's cockpit. 'We worked closely with Sony, who created the cameras for Top Gun, to create a smaller version that would allow us to swivel between the driver and the track.' Kosinski is a self-described 'attention to detail fanatic,' meaning F1 would always look the part. However, few people know how it feels to race—the sounds, smells, noise, fury, joy, and heartbreak. Enter Lewis Hamilton. With seven World Drivers' Championship titles, Hamilton is the most successful F1 driver of all time (tied with Michael Schumacher), a driving prodigy who holds the records for most wins (105), pole positions (104), and podium finishes (202). He also happened to be the only driver Kosinski knew. 'We talked about casting him in Top Gun: Maverick; he's friends with Tom [Cruise]. We couldn't make it happen, but through that conversation, I had Lewis' email, so I asked for help, and straight away, he was on board,' says Kosinski. According to Bruckheimer, Hamilton wasn't shy of critiquing the film's inaccuracies during production. 'We were filming in Silverstone, where they host the British Grand Prix, and in turn three, Lewis could hear that we were in the wrong gear,' he says. 'Brad was in third gear, and you take that turn in second gear; not many people in the world would know that.' Aside from gear changes, Hamilton's insight as the first black driver to compete in the F1 proved invaluable to Idris. 'The beauty of this movie is that Lewis exists, and the barriers that he's broken down means Joshua Pearce can exist on screen too,' says Idris. 'We spoke about what it means to be an advocate without seeking out that label, so I modelled Joshua on Lewis.' On paper, F1 is the kind of film destined for success. A high-octane blockbuster based on a hugely popular sport featuring an all-star cast on screen and Hollywood heavyweights behind the scenes. However, in an increasingly competitive marketplace, films still need to be sold to audiences, which might be the one thing Brad Pitt isn't good at. Earlier this year, Bruckheimer attended Liberty Media's (the company that owns Formula One) investor day in New York. He discussed Pitt's reluctance to self-promote there, telling the crowd, 'He doesn't like to do press.' This approach is at odds with Bruckheimer's other most recent A-list collaborator, Tom Cruise, a famously shrewd marketing machine who boosts the profile of his films with attention-grabbing stunts and endless global press tours. However, with a reported budget of $463 million, Bruckheimer requires Pitt in full salesman mode ahead of the film's release. 'Brad has told me he loves the movie and wants to go out and support it, so he'll join us on the world tour.' As for Idris, he seems to be channelling the rookie energy of F1 's Joshua Pearce, all wide-eyed enthusiasm accompanied by mild disbelief that any of this is happening. 'To be talking about working with Brad Pitt on a Formula One movie still blows my mind,' he laughs. On the day we speak, it's announced that he will play jazz legend Miles Davis in the upcoming film Miles & Juliette. The movie will explore Davis's romance with French singer Juliette Gréco during his 1949 trip to Paris. Anamaria Vartolomei will portray Gréco, and the film is produced by Mick Jagger's company, Jagged Films. 'There are so many interesting icons out there that I want to pay homage to, and Miles was at the top of my list,' says Idris. 'This is my dream job, and I can't wait to stretch myself, show my range and learn the trumpet!'
The Age
15 hours ago
- The Age
The team behind Top Gun takes on F1 in this year's biggest blockbuster
Sitting in a hotel in 2023, Damson Idris had just landed the most important role of his life. Legendary producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Joe Kosinski, the team who took over the box office (OK, and the world) with Top Gun: Maverick, wanted Idris for their high-stakes Formula 1 blockbuster, F1. Idris would play Joshua Pearce, a young gun rookie modelled on Lewis Hamilton (also a producer on the film), and Brad Pitt would play his team-mate and rival, Sonny Hayes, a grizzled veteran who returns to the sport to partner Pearce on the fictional APXGP team. As far as big breaks go, they don't come much bigger than this. So you'd imagine Idris' mind might be racing faster than the F1 car he didn't know how to drive (but would soon master). 'Not really,' deadpans Idris, speaking to me from South Africa, where he is shooting his next film. 'I was just consumed by one thought: I need to be faster than Brad Pitt.' Fast-forward a year or so, and after hundreds of hours on the practice circuit, seven months of training, more than a few crashes, several headaches, and roughly eight kilos lost purely from sweating on set, Idris learned a valuable lesson. 'Brad Pitt is annoyingly good at everything,' he laughs. 'And I mean everything: acting, racing, even walking. The way he walks on screen is second to none.' I mention that one of my favourite YouTube clips is a super cut of Brad Pitt eating in all his different films (it's called 15 Minutes of Brad Pitt Eating, and well worth a watch). 'Oh, don't worry, I've seen it,' says Idris. 'I attempted eating in one scene during F1, and they scrapped it, and you know what? Good on them. I'm with the greatest on-screen eater of all time. Come on, man, what were you thinking?' 'What were you thinking?' is a question I've been meaning to ask director Joseph Kosinski. In 2022, he helped 'save cinema' (Spielberg's words, not mine) with Top Gun: Maverick, a sweeping sequel to the 1986 original that was critically and commercially celebrated, grossing $1.496 billion worldwide at the box office. Such a feat warrants time off. A mini-break. Honestly, Joe, what were you thinking? 'Well, as with so many people, during the pandemic, I became obsessed with Drive to Survive on Netflix,' says Kosinski. 'I went to school for mechanical engineering and aerospace, so the way these cars work is fascinating to me, and then factor in the personalities and team dynamics, it's rich with story.' Pitt and Bruckheimer shared Kosinski's obsession, and they all agreed that if they were going to make a racing film, it had to look real. The first step was getting Formula 1 on board as an official partner on the film, with a view to embedding production in real Grand Prix races worldwide. Having seen F1's popularity surge following Netflix's Drive to Survive, CEO Stefano Domenicali was open to the idea but harboured concerns about how the sport would come across. Thankfully, super producer Jerry Bruckheimer is no stranger to sweet-talking nervy organisations. 'When I did the first Top Gun, the navy was worried about how they'd be portrayed, so Tom Cruise and I went to the US Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego to convince them it would be a good thing, and instead the admiral threw us off the base,' laughs Bruckheimer. 'So Tom went to Washington and met with the Secretary of the Navy at the time, and he understood what a movie could do for recruitment. We got to shoot Top Gun, and after it came out, naval recruitment went up 500%. Oh, and the other admiral was fired.' Bruckheimer's Top Gun -inspired pitch was enough to convince Domenicali, and the group secured Formula 1 as an official partner, allowing them to film at 14 Grand Prix events. Current F1 drivers, including our very own Oscar Piastri, agreed to appear. The next hurdle was figuring out how to bring the audience inside the chaos of a machine that can reach a top speed of 374.97 km/h. 'Cameras,' says Kosinski, perking up. 'And lots of them.' He's not lying. To ensure authenticity, the film's team, in collaboration with Mercedes-AMG and Formula 1 team engineers, built six F2 cars, which were then customised to resemble modern F1 cars. Each car came affixed with four IMAX-certified cameras in 15 possible positions, plus up to six additional cameras inside the car's cockpit. 'We worked closely with Sony, who created the cameras for Top Gun, to create a smaller version that would allow us to swivel between the driver and the track.' Kosinski is a self-described 'attention to detail fanatic,' meaning F1 would always look the part. However, few people know how it feels to race—the sounds, smells, noise, fury, joy, and heartbreak. Enter Lewis Hamilton. With seven World Drivers' Championship titles, Hamilton is the most successful F1 driver of all time (tied with Michael Schumacher), a driving prodigy who holds the records for most wins (105), pole positions (104), and podium finishes (202). He also happened to be the only driver Kosinski knew. 'We talked about casting him in Top Gun: Maverick; he's friends with Tom [Cruise]. We couldn't make it happen, but through that conversation, I had Lewis' email, so I asked for help, and straight away, he was on board,' says Kosinski. According to Bruckheimer, Hamilton wasn't shy of critiquing the film's inaccuracies during production. 'We were filming in Silverstone, where they host the British Grand Prix, and in turn three, Lewis could hear that we were in the wrong gear,' he says. 'Brad was in third gear, and you take that turn in second gear; not many people in the world would know that.' Aside from gear changes, Hamilton's insight as the first black driver to compete in the F1 proved invaluable to Idris. 'The beauty of this movie is that Lewis exists, and the barriers that he's broken down means Joshua Pearce can exist on screen too,' says Idris. 'We spoke about what it means to be an advocate without seeking out that label, so I modelled Joshua on Lewis.' On paper, F1 is the kind of film destined for success. A high-octane blockbuster based on a hugely popular sport featuring an all-star cast on screen and Hollywood heavyweights behind the scenes. However, in an increasingly competitive marketplace, films still need to be sold to audiences, which might be the one thing Brad Pitt isn't good at. Earlier this year, Bruckheimer attended Liberty Media's (the company that owns Formula One) investor day in New York. He discussed Pitt's reluctance to self-promote there, telling the crowd, 'He doesn't like to do press.' This approach is at odds with Bruckheimer's other most recent A-list collaborator, Tom Cruise, a famously shrewd marketing machine who boosts the profile of his films with attention-grabbing stunts and endless global press tours. However, with a reported budget of $463 million, Bruckheimer requires Pitt in full salesman mode ahead of the film's release. 'Brad has told me he loves the movie and wants to go out and support it, so he'll join us on the world tour.' As for Idris, he seems to be channelling the rookie energy of F1 's Joshua Pearce, all wide-eyed enthusiasm accompanied by mild disbelief that any of this is happening. 'To be talking about working with Brad Pitt on a Formula One movie still blows my mind,' he laughs. On the day we speak, it's announced that he will play jazz legend Miles Davis in the upcoming film Miles & Juliette. The movie will explore Davis's romance with French singer Juliette Gréco during his 1949 trip to Paris. Anamaria Vartolomei will portray Gréco, and the film is produced by Mick Jagger's company, Jagged Films. 'There are so many interesting icons out there that I want to pay homage to, and Miles was at the top of my list,' says Idris. 'This is my dream job, and I can't wait to stretch myself, show my range and learn the trumpet!'
