Wearing a duka scarf inside her sunny London apartment, Rosalind’s face is glowing when I speak to her. With a smile that spreads from cheek to cheek, she explains how she returned from a ‘holiday from Hell’ in Columbia after her boyfriend sprained his ankle hiking in the Andes. Carted to safety on the back of a South African mule, we joke, immediately, that it was lucky his ride was faster than the hit TV show she’s currently starring in: Slow Horses. 

The polar opposite of the show’s straightlaced spy Louisa Guy, Rosalind is hopelessly likeable; possessing none of the ego that you’d suspect for a young actor who could boast they’ve played alongside the likes of Mathew Broderick, Tilda Swinton, Dev Patel and Gary Oldman in theatre, T.V and film. 

Instead, Rosalind is strangely relaxed. After repaying her hellish holiday story with my own nightmare in Cyprus, we laugh; politely, and then, openly, about how to respond to life’s most absurd moments. ‘I’m optimistic about suffering,’ she says, ‘I’ve had some bad news, a death, recently, and sometimes you don’t know if you should laugh or cry…but I’m hopeful always, about how crazy life is.’ As I talk back, I forget, for a moment, who should be interviewing who…

One thing about your career that impresses me is how literary your roles have been. Howard’s End, The Personal History of David Copperfield, Uncle Vanya, Slow Horses are all adaptations from books…I’d love to know what draws you into these sorts of works?

That’s a good question. I’ve never really thought of it like that, but it’s true. I suppose I’m more interested by the quality of the script and what’s in the work. Characters from novels—like Yelena from Uncle Vanya—can have so much depth to them. It excites you as an actor seeing the minds these amazing writers create, where there’s all this nuance and psychology, and in the end, when a script keeps that depth, I’m sucked in. 

How closely do you use the books in your own acting? Or are you more focused on the script?

It depends on the book. 

Uncle Vanya I had to read very, very closely. But for most of them, you have to start with the script because it’s its own interpretation. And those are the lines you’re bouncing off with the actors in rehearsals. The books can help to build up your understanding, but…

[laughs]

…when I got The Personal History of David Copperfield, [the director] Iannucci said I didn’t have to read the whole thing—there was this sort of in-joke it was a bloody long book. I did read it. I promise! But I have to add, as a confession, I don’t really love Dickens. 

He did paid by the word…but do you have a favourite book you’d like to star in?

Noughts & Crosses. It might sound basic, but that story moved me so much when I read it as a young teen. It’s such a gripping, clever story about love and politics; one that doesn’t feel contrived at all. 

You’re currently getting ready to continue your role as the disgraced spy Louisa Guy for the third season of Slow Horses after huge critical acclaim. To me, it’s like 24 meets The Office, but could you tell us a little more about the show and what attracted you to it?

It is a little like The Office…I think it’s just a very British premise. You have this group of spies from MI5 who’ve all messed up at work and are sent to this dumping ground in Slough, and they keep on trying to redeem themselves. There’s a lot of action and thriller elements, but there’s also this comedy about unconventional people who feel embarrassed working next to each other.  

It’s got dark and great writing, but it likes to laugh. There’s a good balance to either side. 

Building on the office vibe, you were filming for almost a year under the COVID lockdown. It has such an incredible ensemble cast with the likes of Gary Oldman and Kristin Scott Thomas. What was the initial experience like on set?

It was strange at first, but always felt really good. We became like a family spending so much time together. With all the news and developments, we really did put each other at ease. In a way, it was similar, but kind of opposite community, that our characters were in…

What was the most demanding scene for you?

I really enjoyed the double-acts with my partner Minn [Dustin Demi-Bruns]; he’s such a fantastic actor and we really bounced off each other, building up that level of trust where you’re such opposites takes time to perfect though.

At the end of season two, as well, with Louisa’s interrogation sequence…it was a dark bit to play, but, it didn’t feel really hard.  If I’m honest, the whole experience was wonderful. 

How would you describe Louisa Guy’s character? What arc does she have?

You know she’s such a badass really. It’s a bit of a mystery as to why she’s there as she’s so competent but at the same time—she’s not good at letting people in, she’s not good at trusting other or showing her emotions. She’s probably a very different character to myself.

By the end, though, when they’re at the funeral and she’s grieving in front of people, that scene really resonated with me. I was so happy for the character to develop, but it struck a chord as well…

For a show about professionals haunted by their failures, are we going to find out what went wrong with Louisa’s career in the next season?

Not from me! That’s for Will [the writer] to reveal.

But at a personal level, I’d like to know—what’s the worst thing you’ve screwed up on a job? 

[Laughs]

Oh…God. That’s a good question I never been asked. But it does suits the show.

There’s a lot, I guess, but nothing in particular comes to my mind. I’ll have to think.

You’re not getting off easy. 

[Laughs]

I’ll give you a bit more time.

Two years before Slow Horses, you starred in your first feature film The Wonderful History of David Copperfield by Armando Iannucci. You played Agnes [Copperfield’s second wife] and the film is loosely based off Dickens own life. 

Can you tell me what that experience was like?

You know it was such a whirlwind. It was my very first feature film, and Armando was so welcoming, he really backed me in way that made it feel incredible to work under him. He brought so much joy and confidence on to the set. 

It was a big shift from play and television though, and I felt nervous at the start. I think I was taken aback a bit—especially walking into the dressing room and seeing people like Dev Patel and Tilda Swinton! They were incredible to watch, Swinton especially. There was a moment early on, I think, where she could see I was a little…overwhelmed. Before a rehearsal she just touched my hand lightly, as if I to say, you’re here now, and, it was so strange, but it calmed me down completely.

After that, I had such a great time throughout the film. 

One thing I’m curious about though, is you mentioned in a previous interview around the film that ‘colour blind’ casting isn’t a word you particularly like. Can you tell me why?

It’s weird isn’t it? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the phrase…it feels so naff, like, it’s almost too perfect.

And I suppose Armando always said he picked the person who had the right feel for the part, and that’s how I saw it too. You do it so often on stage. I was a good match for this fun, bubbly person and it didn’t feel like there was a political angle to it, it wasn’t something we ever really spoke about as a crew. It was just automatic…

But then the moment you finish and go into rounds of interviews, there’s all these questions from journalists. Like, ‘what’s it like to play a white female character?’ or ‘do you feel you’re changing politics’? After a while, to be honest, it made me feel kind of shit. I don’t know. I don’t really look at myself in the mirror as a particular kind of person, I’m just…me. And suddenly I felt like I was given this huge part and it was about representing something else…that I didn’t exist as an actor. 

It’s confusing.

It might be ironic for me to say—but perhaps you didn’t want to be labelled?

Yeah. Yeah, that’s it exactly.

But even while it did make me feel kind of shit, I get it too. It’s sad, but society has these labels for a reason. At the same time, a part of me just wishes it really was blind, that you could play these roles without it being a big deal, without it being this big question you’re asked about. Like you were anyone else, really.

It’s difficult to talk about. Maybe we’re not ready to have that conversation yet…maybe you have to have a few years of this kind of attitude to get to that point. 

I’m curious as you touched on it earlier, but between your various roles in television, film and theatre, what’s been your favourite form to act in?

There’s something true about theatre. It’s alive because of the audience. You get to connect in a unique way. I love television and I love film, but plays are always different. It’s where I began and, you know, each night is unique. It has something special in every performance.

I loved Uncle Vanya but doing The Starry Messenger with Mathew Broderick was so interesting with the live audience. He was so fun as an actor, but you’d have moments where you’d notice the audience didn’t respond to us as much one night, or responded in a different way, and it would change the whole thing slightly.

I remember once, after a kissing scene with me and Mathew, there was a little laugh…we ended up cutting that bit short. Mathew was older than me and I think he was self-conscious when we were off-stage. But later it turned out it had nothing to do with us at all:  it was a couple laughing at a private joke. 

The confusion though […] it all gets layered in. You can’t help but connect with each other in a play.  

That’s interesting. And you graduated from LAMDA at 27. Where there any previous careers that tempted you?

I was a bit nervous about acting, although I always wanted to do it. For university, I did Mandarin and Spanish and worked in an office, then ended up moving to Ghana [where my father is from]. I did a bit of TV production for a while, and then made this big decision to come back to London and follow what I really wanted. 

It felt daunting but I was lucky enough to get work after graduating in theatre; it felt like such a relief, finally, doing what I dream about.

Speaking of Ghana, you’re writing your own script about a two-hour conversation with your Ghanian father. Can you tell me a little more about it? You mentioned you were writing it quite a while ago…

[Laughs]

Yes! Wow. How long ago did I say that?

Seven years.

[Laughs]

That long? Gosh. I still am working on it. The script is based on a drive I had with my father when I was a student. We spoke for ages and ages: about life, about how it felt for him to emigrate.

It’s on my desk still. I’ve been meaning to finish it this year but I can be a perfectionist, and it’s a topic that means a lot for me. My father…he passed recently…

I’m so sorry.

It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re right too. You know, you can’t keep waiting on things. 

[Smiles]

So thanks for reminding me.

If you’re half as kind as you’ve been over this interview, I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job. But we’ve got one last question before we go. Have you made up your mind yet?

Oh…

Greatest fuck up at work?

You know, after talking about [ Howard’s End ], I was reminded of one moment. 

One night, well, there’s a scene in the middle where Mathew and I are quite close and…I don’t know how…but one of us suddenly sneezed over the other person. When it happened, it was pretty obvious. So I laughed…then he laughed…

I’m laughing too. 

And the whole crowd laughed! We laughed for minutes and minutes. And when we got over the giggles, the two of us made a comment in-character and just went back to the scene.

Was it a real fuck up then?

Weirdly, it was the most entertaining performance. When you do something so bizarre, the audience kind of love it…

Dialling in to discuss his new film Manodrome, director-writer John Trengove describes the disturbingly-relevant ‘incel’ thriller as a mirror-reflection of the male audience members who have felt targeted by it — the type of man who might subscribe to an Andrew Tate masterclass you might say, though Trengove assures me that his sinister and charming cult leader Dan Dad (played by Adrien Brody) is neither modelled on Tate, Jordan Peterson, or any of the like. “Women find the film interesting”, he tells me, “the most uncomfortable reactions have come from men.”

The story is told through the perspective of Ralphie (Jesse Eisenberg) a body builder with blood red-dyed hair and a man of few words, as he tries to make ends meet as an Uber driver after being laid off from a corporate maintenance job. Racked with worry about how he will support girlfriend and mother-to-be, Sal (Odessa Young), Ralphie, constantly on the border of delusion, joins a cult-like group of men led by the ominously charismatic Dan Dad.

Similar to his first feature film, The Wound, Manodrome explores modern masculinity through the study of a character lost in his environment. Yet Trengove doesn’t ask the audience to sympathise with the protagonist, instead suggesting the character is perhaps beyond redemption, filled with rage and a sense of entitlement to incite violence. Shortly following its world premiere at the Berlin International Film Festival, Trengove spoke with me about Manodrome’s portrayal of toxic masculinity and his journey creating the zeitgeisty psychological thriller. 

AH: Although Manodrome explores masculinity similar to your previous work, it’s your first film in the English language. Why did you decide to set this film in America rather than your home country South Africa? 

JT: We were in the States for my first film for the foreign language Oscar campaign, and I was taking a bunch of meetings. I started to discuss creating a film about incel culture, and the idea of a frustrated Uber driver came to percolate in my head. It wasn’t the plan to make an American film next, it was more a question of circumstance.  

AH: Your protagonist Ralphie is portrayed by Jesse Eisenberg. What made you cast an actor usually known for playing sharp witted slightly passive characters? 

JT: When I started writing the character, I was trying to describe a man that terrifies me, the kind of person I would cross the road to avoid. This was the mantra and key to the writing. But at a certain point it became so apparent there was a softness in his centre. So, when it came to casting, we considered some puffed up alpha type, till the conversation of casting against type came up. The idea that Ralphie is somebody who is trying to be something he is not, that’s when Jesse’s name came up very quickly. 

AH: Ralphie is arguably a victim of his environment, recently laid off from a maintenance job and having to make ends meet as an Uber driver. Is Manodrome a critique of the current US class system? 

JT: Critique is a very strong word, but I’m interested in class, and I think the class difference between Ralphie and some of the other characters is significant. I wouldn’t go as far as to say he is a victim of his circumstances; he definitely has obstacles in his life and he’s definitely struggling to get by, but I think that there’s a bigger problem in him, a void. He doesn’t know who is and he’s reaching for these unattainable unrealistic ideas of identity. Certainly, the class context is interesting to me, I find America and its class struggles fascinating, but I definitely wouldn’t go as far as to say he’s a victim.  

AH: Do you think that he, or people like him in the real world, would consider themselves left behind by American society? 

JT: Absolutely, there is obviously a broader issue in society around masculinity and men getting left behind or maybe not having the resources and tools to deal with their feelings. Men are struggling for sure, you see that all the time, since men like women grapple with unrealistic ideals that collect in their agenda. I think there is a specific tendency for men to suppress their feelings, not having an emotional outlet which means they don’t learn the tools to process difficult feelings. This can often result in a kind of emotional stuntedness, which rage and violence tie in closely to.  

AH: Could you argue that there is a crisis in modern masculinity? 

JT: That’s what everybody’s saying, and I feel like it’s absolutely correct in the most general sense, but what I was interested in with the character was not to make one simple statement. It would be easy but also problematic to construct Ralphie as some kind of victim and to infer that the violence which comes is an inevitability of his situation. I think that’s an excuse which is afforded to the lone wolf mass shooter type, so a statement I didn’t want to make. I attempted to present somebody who is struggling financially, grappling with his sexuality, experiencing some kind of emptiness inside of him, and is reaching for father figures. I wanted all these things to be swirling around in his life and then giving the character a sense of entitlement. That’s what Manodrome is challenging, the idea that you are allowed to enact your anger onto the world and take back what you think is yours.  

AH: So you don’t ask your audience to sympathise with the character? 

JT: For me that was a big departure from my previous film. The experience that I’m interested in is the idea that we are tied at the hip to Ralphie’s character, and we are going on this roller-coaster with him, but we only have limited insight to what is going on within the character’s mind. We stay close to him, but we don’t know him. The main tension of the film comes from this uncomfortableness.  

AH: The character of Dad Dan, played by Adrien Brody, the leader of the cult Ralphie joins, seemingly takes inspiration from current media personalities who preach “hyper masculinity”. Was there any person in particular who you looked at whilst writing the film?  

JT: No, we didn’t look at anyone in particular. I’ve been asked about Andrew Tate, Jordan Peterson, and others, but honestly Dan was never based on any one of them. At the time I was reading up about these groups of problematic men, I found out about the proud boys and incels, groups that were not yet in the mainstream discourse. When Adrien took the role, we talked about how he would play it. There was a version of the character who was much more alpha, but it became more interesting to see these extreme ideas of masculinity manifest itself in a soft suburban figure. 

AH: These groups and individuals have recently gained such a large following, especially among young men. Is this something that personally scares you?  

JT: It is of course terrifying, the idea that one person can have such an incredible sub cultural impact. It is an indication of how susceptible young men are, and how easy it is to radicalise somebody, and maybe that’s the overlap with the film. You see these therapeutic scenes, where Ralphie is asked to go into his subconscious and excess his primal fears, which is something that makes these people vulnerable to radical ideas.  

AH: Manodrome has often been described as a film portraying “toxic masculinity,” and “incels” . What is your personal opinion on the use of these phrases?  

JT: I think it’s inevitable, I have no problems with them, and I think they’re absolutely correct and obviously they do relate to my film. It’s just I’ve heard them so often I tend to try and reach for more nuanced ways of thinking about my work. But also, I want to explore what toxicity actually is. It’s a word that is often thrown around, but it’s the idea that we can infect the system, the body or relationships with a type of poison. It’s actually a very radical idea and we can certainly see the evidence of toxic masculinity everywhere in society. That’s what Manodrome is about. I’m describing a character which is so far away from me but then as I’m writing to him, I’m finding this uncomfortable overlap. There is a sense of claiming responsibility or knowing that as a man, I can describe something which is outside of myself, but I also have to come clean about how some of this is within me.  

AH: And is that a reaction you want from your audience as well? 

JT: I think so, men have reacted very differently. I think some of the most uncomfortable reactions have come from men but also some of the strongest positive reactions. Not to generalise, but women normally find the film interesting, while the male reactions are either total hatred or they’re deeply uncomfortable. It is interesting how it seems to hold up a mirror to its male audience.  

AH: What originally drew you to this topic?  

JT: I think with The Wound, there was a real ritual in the world and there was such a pressure to be truthful and correct, with a taboo cultural practice. So much so the film was bordering on documentary, and I felt like I had such a narrow frame to tell that story. But I had these impulses about how to take these ideas of problematic masculinity and take them to darker subconscious more irrational places. Manodrome became a way to move into a slightly dreamier, more imaginative space, and in the process I had more freedom. 

AH: And what were your cinematic inspirations? 

JT: I was inspired by films about characters on the edge of themselves as well as society. The big one for me was Bad Lieutenant, when I first watched it I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. It’s such a dirty little film but at its heart it seems to be about spiritual cleanliness. It was really interesting to watch a character who within the first twenty minutes was shown to be beyond any redemption and then go on the journey with him. Another film that I absolutely adore is O Fantasma by João Pedro Rodrigues, which is another extraordinary film about an alienated character. There is also an Australian film called Sleeping Beauty about a young woman who drifts endlessly through her life. There were elements of her character which found its way into Manodrome.  

Talking to Amma Asante is an experience that makes one astutely aware of the possibilities of the world around them. Treading the line between auteurism and the mainstream, the British filmmaker’s expertise has always lay in reminding modern audiences of where we’ve been and where we could be going, like guiding a funambulist across a tightrope. After a string of films exploring overlooked stories from throughout Black history—a young Black girl who finds herself in a Nazi camp (Where Hands Touch), an African prince caught in the web of forbidden love (A United Kingdom)—Asante has her sights set on an adaptation of David E. Hoffman’s Billion Dollar Spy—a cold-war thriller telling the true story of espionage-agent Anton Tolkachev.

Below, Asante talks with A Rabbit’s Foot about the artists that give her courage, the importance of living with intention, and her vision for a potential James Bond film.

A lot of your films are told via love story, whether it be the familial or the romantic. What is the significance of that to you?

Amma: I suppose what I’m always trying to do, mostly for myself, is to hold on to some element of hope. We’re not living in the past, we’re living in the now. So many of my films ask the questions “So? Where did we go from here? What do we do now?” We have a choice. We can either walk forward and continue by being power-hungry, greedy and discriminatory, and all of those things that my films deal with as underlying themes, or as a humanity we can choose to change. Love, for me, is a symbol for that.

Mark Kermode once said that your films engage both the heart and the head. It makes me think that although you have a strong sense of vision, there’s also a broad mainstream appeal to your work. How deeply do you consider that when you’re creating?

Amma: I think as a human being, I am a combination of both commercial and arthouse. It’s part of my natural DNA. I’m a bit commercial—a marketer’s dream in many ways—but at the same time, I am a thinker, I question things, and I don’t want things to be too easy when I watch a movie. I’m a great fan of [Michael] Haneke. He makes you work when you watch his films. I want to challenge my audiences. I never want two people to leave the movie theatre with the same opinion. But I’m offering a bitter pill, and because I want that pill to be shared to as wide an audience that I can achieve, sometimes the commercial needs to be the sugar on the pill. I am thinking about that, but never to the extent where I’m willing to compromise the work. 

What draws you to tell stories that are set in the past?

Amma: I’m an observer of the human condition, and it’s hard to observe from close-up. This morning I went to the local department store in Copenhagen. I never know what experience I’m going to have there. Sometimes I’ll get a Danish person who doesn’t want to serve me—and my view is that it is a colour thing, and a foreigner thing. Other times, the person at the counter has a big, wide-open smile and is willing to treat me as a human being. How did we get here? How did she become this way? Inevitably the answer is never just the mother, father, or even a school. There is a historical context to how that person ended up in a space where not only do they feel they don’t want to serve me but they feel like it is their right not to need to want to. History allows me to stand back and view the human condition and it still allows a hope for the future. If I was to tell some of the stories I tell about the here and the now, we might all go away and cut our wrists.

Billion Dollar Spy sounds in a lot of ways like uncharted territory for you. Why does it feel essential to you right now to make a film about Adolf Tolkachev and his experience as a spy during the cold war?

Amma: When you peel back the surface what you find is a film that sits very much inside the context of everything I’ve done before. It’s a story that explores the subject of the individual vs the nation. It explores the subject of identity, of how we find our place in society and still belong to the collective, while trying to be ourselves. That’s exactly what Adolf Tolkachev was doing; he loved his country, he didn’t love the government who was running his country. It’s a resonant story that lots of people in lots of countries can recognise.

I think I’ll go on telling these stories that look at the Collective vs the Individual because I don’t know if I’ll ever get to an answer that satisfies me on how we evolve as a set of societies. Is it through sticking with the collective or is it through stepping out and being an individual? In times gone by, it was stupid to step out because a lion would kill you. But at the same time, when we’ve evolved it’s because someone has embraced individuality, even if the revolution in the end involves the collective.

Where Hands Touch opens with a great James Baldwin quote—who are the artists that you’ll take inspiration and courage from at the times when you find yourself lacking?

Amma: I’ve been thinking about Octavia Butler a lot recently. I’ve been thinking about her courage—she was a Black woman of the kind we hadn’t quite seen before, telling her futuristic sci-fi stories…both powerful and sometimes prophetic. I’m a huge fan of Baldwin, not just for his writing, but for the writer that he was. We think about Baldwin now and we think of someone who was perpetually lauded the way we laud him now and that wasn’t necessarily always the case. I admire how he challenged humanity. I’m also a huge fan of Steven Spielberg; he has the freedom to say “I want to make a movie like The Colour Purple” and a few breaths later say “I want to make Bridge of Spies.” I think that was never going to be my lot as a Black woman [laughs] I was never going to be allowed to do that. But I want to, in some micro-version, mirror that in my career.

We live in an exciting time where we’re finally starting to embrace diversity on the screen. Of course, that doesn’t mean the work is done. What do you think is still missing from this movement that we should be striving for?

Amma: I think we still need to get to a place where we aren’t constantly looking at anybody outside of whiteness as not yet experienced enough. Then the world becomes your oyster. It’s always interesting when somebody writes that Belle was my first film when I won a BAFTA for my debut [laughs]. To this day, I’m having to work hard to remind people I didn’t just arrive. That being the situation for many more of us is really tough. We’re doing well, but we need to do more and faster. Another thing about historical pieces is that so often we’re correcting a narrative that has been mistold. Being a storyteller of colour means correcting history. Once we all feel comfortable saying that we’ve done that, then [we focus] on the freedom of having the kind of career that Steven Spielberg has, to be able to tell stories that aren’t obvious. Then the world will truly open up and be the oyster for filmmakers of colour who can tell our stories, and beyond, if we so choose to.

You’ve mentioned before that you wanted to direct a Bond movie—I’m curious as to what that film would look like and who that Bond would be.

Amma: Of course my Bond would be Lashana [Lynch]! I would like to direct a quintessential Bond movie—one of the things I wanted to do with Lashana is present her in a world where she’s surrounded by the London we know, but present it in a way where she takes ownership for it. She’s the queen of her domain in the way we see the other Bonds as quintessentially British and the kings of their domain. The world you know, but through the lens of a Black, female 007, who is as Black as I am, and as British as I am. Lashana Lynch is as much a part of the British story as Daniel Craig is, and I am as much as Sam Mendes is. 

Twice now you’ve been included in Powerlist’s Top 100 of the most influential people of African descent. Does that kind of accolade change the way you view your own place in the political artistic sphere? 

Amma: It changes things only to the extent that I’m clearer about a pathway that I was perhaps more navigating with less intention. I’m navigating the same path as I would have done regardless of whether they had named me or not, but being named makes you do what you do with more intention. We should all be living our lives with intention.

If you enjoyed this interview, check out our exclusive interview with Penelope Cruz!