The Acting Business
What does "taking risks" mean for actors today?
In an interview with GQ, Dave Bautista pushes back on the notion that he’s only suited for action movies simply because he came out of wrestling and has a muscular physique. “I never wanted to be the next Rock,” he puts it plainly. “I just want to be a good fucking actor. A respected actor.” While I don’t think this is meant as an attempt to throw shade at Dwyane Johnson, it does highlight a fascinating gap between two men who come from similar backgrounds. However, whereas Johnson has put a strong focus on making himself a “brand” and clearly focusing on various business enterprises, Bautista is more concerned with working with acclaimed directors like Rian Johnson and Denis Villeneuve, even if it means he’s not the headliner in those movies.
Acting as a profession, particularly movie acting, is in a tricky place right now. Fame has always been fickle and fleeting, but the entertainment industry is currently in an upheaval that’s affecting everyone. The streaming boom has come to an end as companies pull back on wild spending, which means fewer dollars for movies and TV shows that seemingly had no oversight whatsoever. Studios say they want diversity at the multiplex, but the only films that can seem to make a dent with audiences are the most expensive blockbusters built on recognizable IP. Smaller film projects can be fraught because if you go down that road, you may never get to make anything “big” again. Even something like Bautista’s modest 2019 action-comedy Stuber is now an endangered species.
So what’s the best hedge for movie stars? What does it mean to be a “good actor” in 2023? And should we begrudge anyone who invests more into the business side than interesting roles when Hollywood has always been quick to churn through performers?
I feel like Johnson and his Red Notice co-star Ryan Reynolds (who also appeared opposite Johnson in a small role in Hobbes & Shaw) provide an interesting case in actors who have stepped away from more interesting roles because their business acumen has led them to believe they have more power if they take safer parts and rely on themselves as marketable brands.
Let’s start with Johnson. In addition to acting in movies (and make no mistake—even with Black Adam flopping at the box office, he remains one of the most in-demand stars around), he hosts a competitive TV series, has a partnership with Under Armor, has his own line of tequila, and he’s also an active producer through his Seven Bucks company. Some of this stuff is pretty normal for actors (having a production company, endorsement deals), and some of the stuff is only just becoming more normal for actors (Kevin Hart also has his own tequila, and Ryan Reynolds has Aviation Gin).
Speaking of Reynolds, in addition to being actively involved in marketing his gin, he also owns a mobile virtual network operator, and that’s in addition to his production company Maximum Effort, co-ownership in the Welsh football team Wrexham AFC (which has led to the delightful docuseries Welcome to Wrexham), is part of the investor group Greylock Partners, and has an equity stake in the FAST channel FuboTV. Like Johnson, Reynolds is heavily reliant on using his stardom as a marketing tool for his products.
Again, none of this is particularly unusual in the realm of entertainment, and no one raises an eyebrow when an athlete does an endorsement for McDonalds (a food they clearly don't eat) or that Jay-Z has a ton of different businesses. But what makes it curious for Johnson and Reynolds is that they’ve taken their acting careers onto safer ground as they’ve pushed an image of being savvy businessmen.
Johnson’s film career started out with action roles (The Mummy Returns, The Scorpion King, Walking Tall), but there was also room for more dramatic or stranger material like Gridiron Gang and Southland Tales. Even when it came to IP stuff, Johnson would have a little fun with it with his character turning out to be the villain in films like Doom and Get Smart. Then he got a reputation as a “franchise viagra,” called in as the new lead in Journey 2 and G.I. Joe: Retaliation or as a major addition to the Fast & Furious franchise by joining the series with Fast Five and appearing in the following three movies until he and star Vin Diesel had a public falling out.
What’s interesting here for Johnson is that as his career has progressed, he’s only really become interested in star vehicles. There isn’t anything inherently wrong with that, but the roles have become progressively less interesting. There are now only really three Johnson characters. There is Dwayne Johnson: The Badass (Hobbs & Shaw, Red Notice, Black Adam); Dwayne Johnson: Guy Who Must Save His Family (Skyscraper, San Andreas); and Dwayne Johnson: Goofball Juxtaposed Against Action Badass (Central Intelligence, Jumanji). There are also titles that don’t fit neatly into these categories (Rampage, Baywatch), but none of these roles are particularly heavy lifts. They rely on Johnson’s physique and charisma, and then Johnson goes hard promoting them even though there’s nothing particularly special or new about the characters he’s playing.
Reynolds is an even more extreme case. With a knack for sarcastic comedy, Reynolds still struggled throughout the 2010s to find his place as an actor. What’s notable in his career from 2002 through 2016 is the diversity of the projects he would do. Yes, there were mainstream crowdpleasers, but there were also indie dramas (Buried), dark comedies (The Voices), and films destined to be divisive (The Nines). What changed everything was Reynolds’ smash superhero movie Deadpool. Reynolds had personally fought to get the character the big-screen outing he deserved after playing the role and seeing the studio bungle it in 2009’s X-Men Origins: Wolverine.
But after Deadpool, everything has largely become Deadpool for Reynolds. Setting aside that the name of his production company, “Maximum Effort”, is Deadpool’s catchphrase, his other films since have largely rested on Reynolds’ comic chops, and he’s left indie dramas far behind. And hey, if you’re trying to be the pitchman for cell phone service or a brand of gin, then perhaps you’ve made a calculation that you shouldn’t play a character like the one he does in The Voices who thinks his pets are talking to him and decapitates his coworkers.
I don’t begrudge Johnson and Reynolds their desire to essentially diversify their portfolio. If their success is based solely on their movies being hits, then that’s a venture that’s largely out of their hands. There’s no shortage of great actors who gave good performances in good movies and it didn’t matter because the studio bungled the marketing or released the film on the wrong weekend. While actors have a bit more physical longevity than athletes, another year in Hollywood is not guaranteed, and then what do you do for income?
Johnson and Reynolds are trying to find their way to financial security (or at least, financial security at the level of wealth A-list stars attain; if they wanted to pack it up and live a quiet life in the middle of nowhere, they could live quite comfortably on their current fortunes, I assume), but there’s a different cost. The cost is their legacies. Actors are artists, and art is about taking risks. Business, by comparison, is about minimizing risk to achieve maximum returns. Johnson and Reynolds have decided it’s a better decision to be businessmen than actors, which is a shame, because they’re both gifted enough to hold the screen with their charm and charisma. It’s also shame because legacies for individuals, at least individuals who become famous as performers, is built on the art they create rather than the business deals they make.
If Johnson and Reynolds want to build business empires, that’s their prerogative, and more power to them. I’m not trying to shame them for making money as if Hollywood isn’t a business. But I will say that even though it’s a riskier bet, putting your chips on being an acting legend can be far more enduring than trying to get people to buy your alcohol over countless other alcohol brands. Perhaps it’s savvy for them to strike while the iron’s hot, but simply playing a tough cool guy or a wisecracking cool guy over and over again is going to wear thin with audiences. Maybe they think they can still take on more difficult roles to show their range once in a while—but filmmakers tend to want to work with actors who can inhabit a role rather than remind people of a brand. Fame may be fickle, but it’s not like business inherently stands the test of time. For actors, their careers are judged not by their portfolio but by their filmography. Right now, the richer career belongs to guys like Bautista.