There are some actors who always, regardless of the size of their role or the context of their performance, catch the eye. Andrew Scott, who most recently appeared as the slippery, conniving protagonist in the Netflix series “Ripley,” is one of them. It’s thrilling to watch, its emotional notes meticulously crafted, with playful touches of chaos that always leave room for moments of discovery and surprise.
Here are some of Scott’s favorite ways to perform and how his popular roles reflect an actor who excels at his craft.
The crazy
In Scott’s starring role in Sherlock, he plays crime mastermind Moriarty opposite Benedict Cumberbatch’s modern Sherlock Holmes. From Scott’s first appearance in the season 1 finale, he electrifies an already energetic show.
Cumberbatch set the tone for “Sherlock” with his brutal, quick wit. abstractions fall from his mouth with stern precision and in an impersonal monotone. Scott’s arrival and his slurred speech in the song break this rhythm. There is a menacing playfulness not only in his rhetoric but also in his facial expressions. It adds a new dimension to the show.
In theirs initial confrontation scene, Sherlock points a gun at Moriarty, asking, “What if I shot you now?” Moriarty responds with a cartoonish look of shock that starts at the top of his head and ripples down: his eyebrows rise, his eyes open, his jaw drops and his neck rolls back.
The speed with which his expressions unfold emphasize Moriarty’s dangerously volatile temperament. When he threatens Sherlock back, he speaks softly at first, but then bursts out in midair, his face contorting horribly as the timbre of his voice lowers to a hideous rasp. But just as quickly the moment is over: Moriarty returns to his light tone of villainy and excuses himself.
For as stylized a performance as Scott gives, it’s always believable for the character, especially in this world of major crimes, intricate schemes and eccentric genius. Sherlock is the eternally stable force, playing his fiddle and wandering around his mind palace, while Moriarty is the agent of chaos who acts as his match.
The Beggar
The most important element of Scott’s performance as the so-called hot priest in “Fleabag” is his smile. When introduced in Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful comedy-drama, at a family dinner, his smile is kind and disarming.
It’s when he and Fleabag are out for a cigarette break, and he nonchalantly tosses her some crap as he walks away, a boyish grin spreading across his face. His eyebrows raise slightly in an expression that suggests he’s teasing her.
Part of his charm is a matter of contrast: He’s a holy minister meant to provide spiritual guidance, but also a foul drinker who can barely hide his sexual desires. As he’s finally about to give in and sleep with Fleabag, his happy smile fades, one corner of his mouth turns up in a look of satisfaction, but there’s no joy behind the expression. His gaze is hard and resigned to offense, and there is only a shadow of his smile underneath.
At the end of the series, the priest says he’s not sure if the euphoria he’s feeling is because of God or because of Fleabag, and Scott’s interpretation leads us to the answer. Scott’s explosive energy – that almost manic, kinetic charge that he often imbues his characters – is most evident in the scenes where the priest talks about God. Scott’s priest, despite his love for Fleabag, realizes that she has not changed his faith. It has enhanced it.
Scott’s charm comes across in a different way in Audible’s new podcast adaptation of George Orwell’s “1984.” His audio performance tricks the senses: You can, somehow, actually hear the smile on his face as he plays O’Brien, an undercover cop who plays the rebel in a dystopian society. Scott leans into his natural Irish accent and his exaggerated pitch changes, along with the meticulous way he hangs each syllable in the air and marks time with cryptic murmurs and pauses, create a beguiling mystery.
The Wounded
Scott’s most recent big screen role was in the 2023 film All of Us Strangers, where he shows just how much melancholy can be instilled in a performance through subtle silences and stillness. He stars as Adam, a lonely gay screenwriter who meets a stranger named Harry and then returns to his childhood home to find his parents dead, just as they were decades ago.
Scott’s performance is silent, his eyes constantly thoughtful, his expression of sorrow hardened into a stony exterior. Even his grief is restrained. in a scene in which he discusses his sexuality and childhood bullying with his father, he holds back and dismisses the difficulties he has faced until his father begins to cry. Adam’s face and upper body also collapse.
Scott’s most devastating performance may have been captured in a 2012 short film in which he performs the monologue “Breakwater,” by Simon Stephens.
Scott plays a man who tells a personal story of love, faith and devastating loss and realistically captures the jitters, interruptions and diversions that people often use in conversation. He uses the entire studio space behind him, wandering, pacing, glancing out the windows, thus creating a full sense of the scenery around him. His mannerisms are precise and seem to deliberately create parallels in his narrative. A grand gesture can show both his young daughter innocently reaching upwards and his attempt to summon a word from the air.
The Deceiver
In the hands of the wrong director and the wrong lead actor, Tom Ripley, the sociopathic con-turned-murderer from Patricia Highsmith’s popular book series, could easily be flattened into a common criminal. What makes Ripley more than just another villain in the latest mystery-thriller is his elusiveness. His Ripley is often psychologically opaque and unpredictable.
Scott’s interpretation of “Ripley” is reserved but not at all reserved. It leaves quite a window through which the audience can see Ripley’s thoughts and emotional reactions while leaving the rest open to interpretation.
Scott’s charisma usually oozes through his characters, who even at their most evil are effortlessly enticing. But Scott sinks his charm as Ripley, who is neither gentle in his social interactions nor in his crimes. The quietness that exudes this Ripley hardly disguises the frenzied energy beneath the surface. In the scenes where Ripley suspects he’s about to be caught, he smiles and makes small talk, trying to relax his posture in a false act of confidence. But his eyes are strained and focused, like an animal spotting a predator.
Ripley is rigid. his conversations are often rehearsed, from his answers to the way he sits. Perhaps the most prevalent emotion Scott reveals in this character is shame. When Ripley’s raw taste is assaulted – “Who in the world she’d be wearing a purple paisley robe,” says Ripley’s victim with a sneer—embarrassment crosses his face for a moment, the hardened folds around his mouth and a quick downward glance. Then it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
