Tamara Lawrance has been putting in the work. Her capacity for vulnerability combined with her voracious curiosity have made her one of the finest rising actors on British screen. Tamara moves with intention, always striving for roles she can fully put her soul behind like in the social horror film “Kindred” and Steve McQueen's "Small Axe.” She’s the star of the upcoming HBO series “Get Milie Black” where she plays a British detective going back to her home country of Jamaica where a continuously challenging case will clash with the ghosts of her past. Tamara is also stretching her grip beyond on scream work, getting into the producer's chair with the short film “The Tobacconist” which premiered at the BFI Film Festival.
Photographer: Seye Isikalu
Styling: Seyon Amosu
Hair: Dionne Smith
Make-up: Joy Adenuga
We sat down with the actress to talk about her young life as a performer, her ever evolving craft, and the challenges that come with doing material that hits so close to home.
Tell us about yourself outside of your career. Where did you grow up and how did you get to the performing arts from that point?
My first homes were in Kilburn and Stonebridge, but I grew up properly in Wembley. It was a Jamaican household, just me and my mum. I got into the arts pretty young… I went to a Catholic primary school and it was very artistic and creative. They were always putting on shows, always encouraging very creative homework. As early as 8 years old I already knew I wanted to be an actor, we would always have talent shows. There was this play called The Rainbow Fish, about a fish that shares his scales. I remember being very moved by the sharing of scales.
In terms of me outside of acting, I used to be way more about putting all my eggs in that basket. Nowadays, I understand the importance of the basket being artistry and acting being one of the eggs. Growing up, poetry was a big form of catharsis for me. I did some poetry competitions and workshops… I’ve been trying to understand wellbeing, I know it's a bit of a buzzword now. I’m fascinated by neuroscience, epigenetics, and herbalism, as well as the ways they intersect. In terms of what is the way to be your best. There’s so many things we inherit, from the environment and from family. I’m also curious about creativity as a form of wellbeing. How do I use my art to evolve myself?
When did you know that you wanted to pursue this path?
Probably around drama school. I had really supportive mentors that saw that passion and gave me plays to read and movies to watch. There was a sort of shame (in going to drama school), there’s a lot of people that think “that’s really cute that you wanna do that, but what do you really wanna do?”. My teachers, however, were really serious about the heritage of storytelling and the legacy of acting, of masks, of playing as social anarchy. We come from a heritage of storytelling and narration; stories help move the world forward. So I felt an honour in acting as a vocation.
We noticed you’re still involved in short films whether it be as an actress or executive producer like on “The Tobaccoist.” What do these projects mean to you and why is it important for you to keep working in the short form medium?
I love the ways in which short form narratives have a way of really getting to the jugular and really making you think in five, ten, or fifteen minutes. I’ve always been interested in being behind the scenes. It looks glamorous but it is a lot, being on camera and in front of people. There is something about being able to see stories from different perspectives that I’ve always been fascinated by. With producing I’m able to take a story from the first roots of an idea to fruition. It’s a really beautiful journey that always humbles me. One of my favourite parts of the short film is actually the credits, you get to see just how many people are involved in making a piece of work. So much spotlight is put on actors but the location manager and the person doing the budget and the caterer are as important and intrinsic to the piece (getting made).
Tamara Lawrance as Millie-Jean Black on HBO Series 'Get Millie Black'
From Small Axe to The Silent Sisters, and Kindred, you seem to embody people bumping up against the structures around them. Can you speak on that?
When I left drama school I had a very candid conversation with my agent. I’m not interested in everything, it’s important to have integrity… I know this comes from a place of privilege because I grew up in London, I had a base here. Whereas people who’ve moved to London and have to work to pay rent are in a very different position. Essentially, I said “I would rather wait for (a role) that I really care about rather than just do anything and work for the sake of working.” Drama school had a lot of excavation… Everyone has their strength, their gift. For me, I’m quite a sensitive person and my vulnerability is a thing I’ve learned to praise. There are many outlets in which my vulnerability can be weaponized and exploited, I would rather give that very finite pool of energy to something that I care about. A lot of stories, like Kindred, go pretty deep on structural inequality or post-natal psychosis, you can’t just go and do stuff like that incessantly.
You’ve worked a wide range of mediums from feature length films to episodic television to the theatre. Where do you feel most at home?
I have a huge love of theatre because it exists in real time, every night is its own story. Some things can never be replicated, the listen and response. Film is such a beautiful but also very technical medium in that what we’re seeing as a finished scene is actually twenty takes per setup. A whole lot of editing and postproduction [goes into it]. There’s something that I really love about the honesty of whatever happens in the moment on stage.
How has your process and craft, as an actor, evolved over the years?
I’ve learned to trust myself more as time has elapsed. As you grow up, you know yourself a bit better, you get a bit more confident in who you are. My process, at first, was chucking every technique at every character. I was the youngest of my year, I was very studious. Almost approaching Drama School as a university, lots of writing things down and loads of research. Research is still very much a primary part of my process. (Now I’m able to) approach characters in different ways. Some I take on through a therapeutic lens while other characters have a more physical lens. Maybe I need to be less cerebral with this person, this is a person that actually thinks and lives in the physical whereas I think I spend a lot of time in my mind.
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You got the chance to work with one of the finest working directors at the moment: Steve McQueen. Every scene you are in appears to be pivotal to the story. How was it working with Steve and what did you take away from that production?
I was really surprised at how specific but self-assured he was. When he was happy he would move on in one take, two takes. A director that comes into the work with so much specificity and knows exactly what he’s looking for to the point where if he feels he’s got what he needs in one take or one shot, that was a real shock for me. We were finishing days one or two hours early. He had a sense of trust in the work that you’ve done. Sometimes I really want three takes to warm into it and get used to the camera. But to trust that if the director is happy and to trust in the work that I’ve done, then the story was told.
I know this and other projects you’ve worked on have been shot on film. How do you, as a performer, adapt the demands of analog filmmaking?
I don’t think it’s something I’m thinking about. I definitely feel a difference between (mediums like) TV and Film, having to adapt to different directing styles or trying to get through all the scenes of each episode as opposed to when you’re just trying to tell one story. The Tobacconist was shot on film. The director was a photographer who usually shoots on film so he wasn’t stressed but I definitely was. What if it’s not actually in the can? What if we don’t have the scenes that we need? You just don’t know how it’s going to come out, there’s so many factors to it. For me, it creates more focus because you don't have the same kind of opportunity to go again and to manipulate the files that you do in digital. Everything just feels more alive.
Get Millie Black feels like a culmination of sorts for your career. How did this project come to you and what challenges did it present once you got the filming it?
When I saw the breakdown for Millie and the themes of the piece, it was literally everything I think about on a daily basis. British colonial legacy, family dynamics, justice, and all of the things that propel Millie through this missing person case are ideas that are really close to my heart. I was shook to my core, because as much as you get excited for a role there’s also the nerves of the casting process… When there’s a job you really want, it stays in your subconscious, this one was definitely in my psyche. One of my worst nightmares was like an inception nightmare where I didn’t get the job, it was me sleeping on the sofa and waking up to a call from my agent telling me I didn’t get it and then I woke up within the nightmare to another call telling me that the last one was a dream but this time I actually didn’t get it.
Does your experience making this project somewhat mirror what your character is going through?
Milie is Jamaican born but sent to England at age eleven and came back as an adult. But there was definitely a parallel with our experiences in that I was born (in England) but hadn’t been to Jamaica since I was three years old. At the start of the show Milie’s been home for a year. So for me, being around things that I was semi-familiar with like the accent, music, and food but forming a new relationship to it was a special part of the process in terms of understanding how my character must’ve felt as well.
How did getting to Jamaica for this project compare to the image you had of the island in your mind?
What I realised is that I had a colonial image of Jamaica as a sort of paradise, but I also had a strong sense of connection to the rebel culture. Jamaica is an island that emancipated itself, it’s an island that has touched the whole world. Especially being a Londoner, Jamaica’s influence on the city is huge. I had a strong sense of pride and excitement to encounter that in the native Jamaicans. There was also encountering the difference between downtown and uptown Kingston, seeing what class difference looked like there specifically. I have this dream of having a home in Jamaica someday, having an element of repatriation. But a lot of people in Jamaica, for various reasons, want to leave because there’s better opportunities elsewhere. Growing up working class here (in London) I haven’t resonated with the idea of being privileged. Globally, however, anyone who is living in the West has a version of privilege. I can’t argue with the fact that being British I can travel to Jamaica, but a Jamaican has a harder time coming to England. A part of the story has a platforming of the queer and trans community there, it was a really beautiful eye-opener. Homosexuality is still very stigmatised, and homophobia is very rife. There was a lot of celebration of queerness that I didn’t expect to see and it was really beautiful.
The opening line for trailer of your new chord struck a chord with me as a Central American, “It won't add up, it won’t make sense, but like every story about this country… it's a ghost story.” Our region has such a complicated history and underrepresented history, how does the show explore this and what has it meant for you to lead it?
The metaphor of ghosts on a personal level for the character but also an international level explores the relationship between Jamaica and Britain. It speaks about the legacy of the forgotten, missing, left behind, or murdered people where there’s a sense of foul play. All of the connotations of the word ghost are present in the piece. Milie has a very strange relationship with her sister, she was sent to England but her sister was left behind. There is a sense of leaving behind someone that you never encounter again. By the time you meet them again that version of them is gone, the show is exploring Milie trying to navigate having the relationship that she wants to have with her sibling versus the one she was never allowed to have. Then there’s also the missing persons case involving the legacy of slavery and the ways in which that still manifests today in the people that go missing. Many corrupt industries run on ghosts.
Going forward, what challenges are you in search of these days as a performer? What side of your craft would you like to delve into more?
In general, I’m fascinated by duality or polarity. Light and shadow and how they show up in ourselves. The things we don’t want to encounter, explore, or admit about ourselves. I would be interested to play characters that explore the most depraved aspects of humanity, it’s important because it increases our humanity to be able to find something about that person that you can understand.
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It’s vital.
Exactly! It puts us all off the hook to put those people in that box over there and we’re never like them. The truth is anybody that exists has an element of you and me and vice versa. I’m always curious about exploring that and pushing myself to really be able to empathise with people that I might consider myself morally superior to. On the other hand, I think comedy is really hard. There’s definitely so much scope for improvement in my craft, with comedy I’m really fascinated in how to hold space for the characters that are exploring important things but not processed through deep emotional catharsis. Comedic characters are actually very difficult to play, I found them all quite hard, the ones I’ve done in the past. Hopefully more comedy, yeah.
Finally, could you share with us that last great film you saw or album you’ve heard?
The last great film that I saw was The Piano Lesson, Malcolm Washington’s directorial debut. Daniel Deadwhiler, oh my god! She comes to my mind quite frequently…not in a creepy way. The things she tapped into to convey the truth of that story, I felt super inspired by that performance. That film as a whole is saying something really special.
Lex Amor is a UK poet, rapper, prophet. I’ve been into the girlies rapping these days. Doechii’s album I thought was amazing.
You can watch Tamara on her new show “Get Millie Black” premiering on HBO and the Max streaming service now in the US.
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