GREATEST: Kelvin Harrison Jr.
The rising star on working with Baz Luhrmann, advice from Peter Dinklage and his roles (and role) as a Black actor.
Kelvin Harrison Jr. is something of a chameleon. In the last couple of years alone, the ascendant actor has played a high school senior plunged into tragedy, a pop star on the rise and Black Panther leader Fred Hampton. He transitions between roles so gracefully as to make it seem effortless. To a certain extent, that’s by design. “I say, ‘Kelvin, what do I want from me today?’” offers Harrison when prompted about the roles he chooses. “If that’s bringing me joy, cool. If it’s not, then maybe [I’m] a little off for this ride.”
Harrison’s joy-first career strategy seems to be paying off; by all appearances, he’s having the time of his life. For one thing, the actor recently wrapped production on Baz Luhrmann’s upcoming Elvis biopic. (“The man’s imagination is endless,” he says of Luhrmann. “You never know what’s going to happen, you just go, ‘Whoo!’”) He’s currently in production on Chevalier de Saint-Georges, a film about an 18th-century French violin prodigy. (“I’m reading so many books, and I’m learning so much about France and classical music and the laws of the time. I got an atlas, I’m looking at geography—I’m having a good time.”) And this December, he can be seen as Christian in Joe Wright’s Cyrano, based on Erica Schmidt’s musical adaptation of the classic tale. (“It was so sick. I was hitting my steps, didn’t miss a beat, I knew my music cues, I was in pitch, I was ready, I was giving. I felt like Beyoncé.”) It’s been a pretty magical year.
All this isn’t to suggest that this remarkable knack for balancing his priorities comes naturally. Harrison himself will tell you he’s worked pretty much nonstop for the last six or seven years—plenty of time to undergo trial by fire and come out on the other side with a clear vision. At only 26, Harrison is grounded and self-possessed, complete with a blueprint for his future as an actor.
On the set of his GREATEST shoot in LA, Harrison discusses his unexpected transition from a Disney-watching teen to an indie film superstar, not taking himself too seriously and defying Black tokenism in Hollywood.
Your films Gully and Monster came out recently, but both were filmed several years ago. What does it feel like to be promoting projects that embody a version of you that no longer exists?
It feels weird; it was a long time ago. I was such a kid—I still lived with my parents at that time, so I had never been anywhere but New Orleans, really. Until probably the year before Monster, I watched the Disney Channel and that was about it.
On one of my earliest jobs, I was supposed to be playing a Haitian gangster, and I remember they told me, “You look like you’re doing a Gap ad.” [Laughs] It was really bad, man. My hair was freshly curled, I was wearing all my Gap clothes. And then I realized that there are real movies out there.
[On Monster] I felt like I was on a real movie set, doing real acting. Gully was a few years later and I’d already finished Luce, Monsters and Men and JT LeRoy—that was the year I did six movies, and then I did Gully the following year.
Do you ever take a break?
The thing is, when the momentum is going, you take advantage of it. When I first started auditioning, I was getting auditions for all different types of projects, and I felt like it was always a chance to tape and see what I was capable of doing and what I couldn’t do. That time was like my conservatory because with indies, they may come out, they may not or they could come out six years later.
It’s low stakes—I used to think it was so serious, but it’s not that deep. One thing Peter [Dinklage] told me when we were doing Cyrano was, “Dude, you young actors take yourselves so seriously now. We used to just have so much more fun when we were young.”
If Peter Dinklage tells you it’s not that deep, it’s not that deep.
Exactly. So now I’m just like, “I’m gonna have a good time,” and sometimes I’ll do certain things because it means a lot to me, and that’s still a good time.
Is that why you’ve taken a lot of musical roles recently? Cyrano is a musical, and you’re also playing B.B. King in Elvis.
I used to think it had something to do with my parents because they’re musicians. I played piano and trumpet in the church for a while—I got paid 400 bucks on Sundays to sit there for a couple hours and maybe play some tunes. I didn’t want to be a musician, but at the same time I did.
You wanted the fun parts.
I wanted the fun parts. And the process of learning how to be a better musician wasn’t fun. That shit’s for the birds. Acting, the process of it, is fun to me. High Note, that was fun. And when you get an offer to play B.B. King, you say, “yes.” Baz Luhrmann? You say, “yes.”
It makes sense that you think of your early indie movies as a conservatory experience, especially since you got to do a wide range of projects in a short time. Was that something you did on purpose or lucked into?
I think it’s a combination of both. Most of the time, you watch stuff, then you go, “I liked this movie, I want to do something like that.”
It Comes at Night—I remember that moment because there were three movies. I kept getting close to jobs and I wouldn’t book, and then all at once I got three offers. There was a boyfriend part in this really big movie, and there was another really bad one but it was a big role, and then there was It Comes at Night, and it came down to the script.
I remember reading It Comes at Night and I cried. Monster I said “no” to a bunch of times—the casting director really pushed it. Then I remember doing the test and I was like, “Oh, I get why I’m supposed to be here.” If I like the script, I like the script. But it doesn’t work that way anymore. You can like the script and you can’t necessarily do the project anymore. I wish it was as pure as it used to be.
How come?
I feel like there’s so many more elements that come into play now that I’ve had some success. When you haven’t done anything, everyone’s like, “Oh, whatever.” But now it’s like, “Well, will he keep that up? Is he consistent?” And then it comes down to who you’re working with, who else is attached. Every choice is not an inspired choice—you wish it was, but sometimes it’s a strategic choice that you try to find inspiration in. You can find fun in anything, however. That’s my goal.
Are you starting to find out what you do and don’t like?
I think it’s more about the relationships and less about the projects. Good writing’s good writing, a good director’s a good director. But when it comes to casting a Black actor, a young Black actor, what does that mean to them? And how am I navigating those conversations, how is that implemented in the script, in the storytelling, in the casting, in the crew? It becomes more about the experience I have on a set than it does about the actual work because when everyone’s on the same page, it tends to be a better movie. When it’s not, it’s a gamble.
At this point, I would much rather be on a set where I feel happy and excited to be there than be on a set where it could be a great thing for me but it’s miserable. And usually it reflects in my performance.
I don’t want to be the poster child for Black Lives Matter all the time, you know? I didn’t sign up for that.
You bring up the question of how different directors relate specifically to you as a Black man. There’s an extra level of consideration for Black actors that white actors don’t need to deal with: Do you feel like you have to tell stories about Black trauma? Do you feel like you should be playing characters who could have been cast with an actor of any race?
I mean, you do one [type of movie], and then they want you to do more of the same thing because they’ve seen that you know how to do that. That’s fair. At that point it’s on the performer to go, “Am I still interested in that story?” With contemporary Black stories, what drives me towards doing more is that I feel like the world continues to talk about it. My struggle continues to be really rooted in that as I navigate what it feels like to live in my actual life, so I find inspiration in continuing to do it. At the same time, I’m an actor and I want to have fun. I want to do what everybody else gets to do.
Most of the movies I loved growing up, they’re not about people that looked like me, and I had to imagine myself in their world. So when you get those scripts, it’s about leaning into the fantasy of it all. It all comes down to where you are in the moment. I don’t want to be the poster child for Black Lives Matter all the time, you know? I didn’t sign up for that. But I also want to speak to my truth and my authenticity, and if I can articulate that better through the work, then fantastic.
And certain jobs I’ll take because it’s rare for someone like me to be in that space. If people respect me enough to want to put me in this type of role and not cast the obvious choice, then I’m going to do it because it’s going to open up the door for other people. That is a responsibility that I choose to take on, and that’s fine. But no one should expect me to do that, you know what I mean? Because that’s not my job. [Laughs]