There’s the polio victim in Breathe, who defies the doctor’s predictions and changes the world’s perception of the disease the pacifist World War II combat medic in Hacksaw Ridge who refuses to bear arms, much to the military’s chagrin, and wins the Medal of Honor for saving 75 men at Okinawa the Jesuit priest in Silence who remains faithful even though doing so is a death wish the broke single dad in 99 Homes who realizes humanity trumps money. He’s drawn to characters with a strong moral compass, people who, weak or ostracized as they may be, try to rise above their circumstances to be their best selves. There are no romantic comedies or horror flicks, no raunchy bro-fests or machine-gun action flicks. Review Garfield’s film credits and it’s clear he takes this responsibility seriously.
I’m proud of anyone, including myself, who risks failing in order to express something that’s authentic to themselves. It’s like, Oh f***, I found this thing that is a good vehicle for who I am and for what I feel I have to offer to the world, but then it becomes really hard because you have this responsibility to this thing.” “That’s how I feel with acting, with storytelling. “The first problem is finding out what your calling is, and then the second problem, once you find it, is how do you wrangle that beast?” he says. Today, though, he feels sure that he’s right where he should be. “Why the f*** am I doing this?” he asked the journalist before launching into a diatribe against the fame machine and questioning his role in all of it. Three years ago, an interview he did with New York magazine to promote the film 99 Homes led many outlets to imply he was having a mental breakdown. Maybe more than any actor of his generation, he’s talked openly and critically of our celebrity-obsessed culture and how it’s becoming more and more difficult to simply create art for art’s sake. It’s a show about struggle: struggling with who the world thinks you should be, who you are, and, ultimately, who you really want to be. It’s very much of a time (only those over a certain age get the Ed Koch joke in the first act), but the basic themes of love and forgiveness and purpose are universal and just as relevant 25 years on. The play, which won a Pulitzer Prize (and basically every other theater award in existence) in 1993, centers on the stories of three very different gay men: There’s Prior Walter (Garfield), a drag queen whose partner abandons him after learning Prior has HIV Joe Pitt, a Mormon lawyer struggling to come out of the closet and a fictionalized version of power-broker Republican lawyer and Trump mentor Roy Cohn, who is dying of AIDS and protests his straightness until the bitter end. But, I think, simultaneously, it’s the most rewarding thing you could ever hope to do as an actor.” You never feel like you know what you’re doing. “And every time, it’s really scary because you never feel safe in it. “It’s like the Olympics of theater acting,” he says, his rich brown eyes heavy with fatigue. (It will go on to net a record-setting 11 Tony nominations, including one for Garfield, for best actor.) Garfield is exhausted and nursing a cold. It’s one of his two days off a week from performing playwright Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, one of the most epic pieces of theater ever written-a “gay fantasia,” as the show’s subtitle declares, about the AIDS crisis in 1980s New York-which is currently enjoying a revival on Broadway after a lauded run on London’s West End last year. Three days later, Garfield, 34, sits in a restaurant on Manhattan’s West Side, cradling a cup of chamomile tea in his hands and wearing a camel coat over a gray hoodie. It’s nearly midnight, but 1,400 people roar their approval while Garfield grins and wipes tears from his eyes. “Tony’s written two extra acts, and we’re going to perform them,” he shouts. Finally Garfield raises his hands to quiet the raucous crowd. The audience at New York’s sold-out Neil Simon Theatre demands three curtain calls, and he and his castmates, including Nathan Lane, happily oblige.
On a Saturday night in April, after spending seven and a half hours writhing in pain, laughing hysterically, dancing in sequined gowns, screaming like a 9-year-old girl, and soaring through the air with a black-winged angel, Andrew Garfield takes a bow.