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When Noah Baumbach is in New York, he is inevitably, at some point, at Bar Pitti, where the staff unofficially reserves a table for him. This is where he and director Wes Anderson cowrote, at least in part, two of Anderson’s more acidic films, 2004’s The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and 2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox. One afternoon, I got there before Baumbach and sat on the side of the table that faced the street, until a server gently told me I was in Baumbach’s preferred chair. When Baumbach arrived, he said in fact the ownership of the seat was something that he and Anderson often contested: “If we were meeting here, I started noticing he was getting here earlier to get the seat. So then I would try to get there earlier than he would get there earlier.”

Baumbach and I first met, briefly, 12 years ago. I wrote a story about Frances Ha for The New York Times that suggested, perhaps, that Baumbach was softening a little from the angry young filmmaker who’d made three straight character studies of abrasive, unhappy people, in Squid, 2007’s Margot at the Wedding, and Greenberg. At Bar Pitti, Baumbach said he’d reread the piece that morning and found the portrait to be sufficiently unresolved. “I felt like it was done in a more kind of…speculative way,” he said, approvingly. Like: maybe.

And he had softened, he said. Sort of. “I cry a lot now,” he said. “I find a lot of life emotional in a good way.”

Profiled the great Noah Baumbach for @gq. Photos by @bruce_gilden. Link in bio.

When Noah Baumbach is in New York, he is inevitably, at some point, at Bar Pitti, where the staff unofficially reserves a table for him. This is where he and director Wes Anderson cowrote, at least in part, two of Anderson’s more acidic films, 2004’s The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and 2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox. One afternoon, I got there before Baumbach and sat on the side of the table that faced the street, until a server gently told me I was in Baumbach’s preferred chair. When Baumbach arrived, he said in fact the ownership of the seat was something that he and Anderson often contested: “If we were meeting here, I started noticing he was getting here earlier to get the seat. So then I would try to get there earlier than he would get there earlier.”

Baumbach and I first met, briefly, 12 years ago. I wrote a story about Frances Ha for The New York Times that suggested, perhaps, that Baumbach was softening a little from the angry young filmmaker who’d made three straight character studies of abrasive, unhappy people, in Squid, 2007’s Margot at the Wedding, and Greenberg. At Bar Pitti, Baumbach said he’d reread the piece that morning and found the portrait to be sufficiently unresolved. “I felt like it was done in a more kind of…speculative way,” he said, approvingly. Like: maybe.

And he had softened, he said. Sort of. “I cry a lot now,” he said. “I find a lot of life emotional in a good way.”

Profiled the great Noah Baumbach for @gq. Photos by @bruce_gilden. Link in bio.

When Noah Baumbach is in New York, he is inevitably, at some point, at Bar Pitti, where the staff unofficially reserves a table for him. This is where he and director Wes Anderson cowrote, at least in part, two of Anderson’s more acidic films, 2004’s The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou and 2009’s Fantastic Mr. Fox. One afternoon, I got there before Baumbach and sat on the side of the table that faced the street, until a server gently told me I was in Baumbach’s preferred chair. When Baumbach arrived, he said in fact the ownership of the seat was something that he and Anderson often contested: “If we were meeting here, I started noticing he was getting here earlier to get the seat. So then I would try to get there earlier than he would get there earlier.”

Baumbach and I first met, briefly, 12 years ago. I wrote a story about Frances Ha for The New York Times that suggested, perhaps, that Baumbach was softening a little from the angry young filmmaker who’d made three straight character studies of abrasive, unhappy people, in Squid, 2007’s Margot at the Wedding, and Greenberg. At Bar Pitti, Baumbach said he’d reread the piece that morning and found the portrait to be sufficiently unresolved. “I felt like it was done in a more kind of…speculative way,” he said, approvingly. Like: maybe.

And he had softened, he said. Sort of. “I cry a lot now,” he said. “I find a lot of life emotional in a good way.”

Profiled the great Noah Baumbach for @gq. Photos by @bruce_gilden. Link in bio.

Announcing LAST OF MY KIND. I don’t even know how many years in the making. Just: many years. It’s about eco-terrorism, punk rock, IVF, and going to Houston’s to try to fix yourself and your soul. Florida and Los Angeles. Fatherhood. Also: rhinos. Like, a surprising amount of rhino. An unlikely friendship and a plan that doesn’t have a chance. Idealism and whatever comes after it. Did I mention Houston’s? Thank you @simonandschuster. We’re making t-shirts, we’re throwing parties, we really are very grateful and happy.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Two days ago, Seth Rogen won so many Emmys that today his wrists are actually a little sore. This is not a joke: He’s flexing his hands by the back entrance of the Chateau Marmont and pointing out random bruises all those statuettes left on his arms. The final tally was four for Rogen, for acting in, writing, producing, and creating The Studio, which ties an individual record, and 13 for the show itself, which breaks a record for most-awarded comedy series. How do you feel right now? I ask him.

“Crushing pressure” is his answer. He says he was able to enjoy the feeling of winning for about 24 hours. Then: pain. “I’m not surprised at all,” he says. “I was waiting for it.”

The Studio, about a movie-studio head, played by Rogen, and his attempts to navigate an increasingly ridiculous and paranoid industry, is many things—a Hollywood satire, a workplace comedy, a filmmaking showcase—but it is, at root, about what happens to creative people with good intentions when they run headlong into the business of making what they make. Rogen, who has never had a job outside of show business, knows about this collision intimately. It is a bunch of trophies; it’s overwhelming anxiety; it’s about how the trophies lead to anxiety and the anxiety—if you’re lucky—leads back to the trophies.

A very pleasant conversation with Seth Rogen for @gq’s 30 anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Still more on the way. Link in bio.

Stephen Colbert is by the pool at the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood wearing bathing trunks, a robe, and nothing else. GQ’s idea, not his. It’s been about two months since CBS canceled The Late Show With Stephen Colbert. Twenty-four hours from now Colbert and his staff will win their second Emmy of the year, the first two that the show has won since Colbert started doing The Late Show. The crowd will give Colbert a standing ovation right at the beginning of the ceremony.

Right this second he’s in the robe, about to get into the pool, and holding a lit joint that I maybe think I see him smoking, but when I mention it later, this is his response: “You cannot prove that I was smoking unless you want to do a blood test right now.” Then he tells me to get a warrant: “Are you a cop?” (I am not a cop.)

When CBS canceled The Late Show, it had been the number one show in late night for the better part of nine years. CBS described the choice as “purely a financial decision against a challenging backdrop in late night. It is not related in any way to the show’s performance, content, or other matters happening at Paramount.” The other matters happening at Paramount at the time were a planned merger with Skydance Media (now complete) and a $16 million settlement the company had recently paid to President Donald Trump over a 60 Minutes–related lawsuit. Colbert, on air two days before his show was canceled, said that this kind of settlement “has a technical name in legal circles. It’s: big fat bribe.”

Me and Stephen Colbert for @gq’s 30th anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Magazines! We still got it. Link in bio.

Stephen Colbert is by the pool at the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood wearing bathing trunks, a robe, and nothing else. GQ’s idea, not his. It’s been about two months since CBS canceled The Late Show With Stephen Colbert. Twenty-four hours from now Colbert and his staff will win their second Emmy of the year, the first two that the show has won since Colbert started doing The Late Show. The crowd will give Colbert a standing ovation right at the beginning of the ceremony.

Right this second he’s in the robe, about to get into the pool, and holding a lit joint that I maybe think I see him smoking, but when I mention it later, this is his response: “You cannot prove that I was smoking unless you want to do a blood test right now.” Then he tells me to get a warrant: “Are you a cop?” (I am not a cop.)

When CBS canceled The Late Show, it had been the number one show in late night for the better part of nine years. CBS described the choice as “purely a financial decision against a challenging backdrop in late night. It is not related in any way to the show’s performance, content, or other matters happening at Paramount.” The other matters happening at Paramount at the time were a planned merger with Skydance Media (now complete) and a $16 million settlement the company had recently paid to President Donald Trump over a 60 Minutes–related lawsuit. Colbert, on air two days before his show was canceled, said that this kind of settlement “has a technical name in legal circles. It’s: big fat bribe.”

Me and Stephen Colbert for @gq’s 30th anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Magazines! We still got it. Link in bio.

Stephen Colbert is by the pool at the Chateau Marmont in West Hollywood wearing bathing trunks, a robe, and nothing else. GQ’s idea, not his. It’s been about two months since CBS canceled The Late Show With Stephen Colbert. Twenty-four hours from now Colbert and his staff will win their second Emmy of the year, the first two that the show has won since Colbert started doing The Late Show. The crowd will give Colbert a standing ovation right at the beginning of the ceremony.

Right this second he’s in the robe, about to get into the pool, and holding a lit joint that I maybe think I see him smoking, but when I mention it later, this is his response: “You cannot prove that I was smoking unless you want to do a blood test right now.” Then he tells me to get a warrant: “Are you a cop?” (I am not a cop.)

When CBS canceled The Late Show, it had been the number one show in late night for the better part of nine years. CBS described the choice as “purely a financial decision against a challenging backdrop in late night. It is not related in any way to the show’s performance, content, or other matters happening at Paramount.” The other matters happening at Paramount at the time were a planned merger with Skydance Media (now complete) and a $16 million settlement the company had recently paid to President Donald Trump over a 60 Minutes–related lawsuit. Colbert, on air two days before his show was canceled, said that this kind of settlement “has a technical name in legal circles. It’s: big fat bribe.”

Me and Stephen Colbert for @gq’s 30th anniversary MOTY issue. Photos by @tyrellhampton. Styled by @georgecortina. Magazines! We still got it. Link in bio.

One thing Glen Powell learned, in his years trying to make it, is that who you see yourself as and who the movie business might want you to be are often not the same thing. “That’s the funny part about Hollywood,” Powell said. “You can’t really choose it. People have to cast you in these movies. And I think what I started realizing is that people got enjoyment out of watching me be really cocky and confident.”

Powell can play cocky, but what he really enjoys is what comes afterward. He told me a story about his uncle Billy—one of the uncles who taught him how to fight. “There’s a story where someone tried to beat up his younger brother. This is in front of the family. This guy was rough with his younger brother, and Billy said, ‘Stop messing with him.’ And the guy hit him, and my uncle Billy grabbed this guy and just beat him to a pulp. And the whole time, while he was doing it, he said, ‘Why did you make me do this?’ And then he cried afterwards. So for the guy that’s on the ground, it must be the most confusing beatdown of his life. Why did you make me do this? And then the man cries.”

Powell likes these kinds of moments, when the whole thing gets upended and the confident guy has his confidence punctured. The moment where the jerk becomes a little less of a jerk. “I’m fascinated by the malleability of humans, our ability to change, our ability to become better,” Powell said. He is fascinated by the vulnerability in invulnerability.

Presenting ‘The State of the American Male in 2025’ - a @gq special report starring @glenpowell. Profile by me. Photos by @blobbybloherty. Styled by @tobiasfrericks. Link in bio!

One thing Glen Powell learned, in his years trying to make it, is that who you see yourself as and who the movie business might want you to be are often not the same thing. “That’s the funny part about Hollywood,” Powell said. “You can’t really choose it. People have to cast you in these movies. And I think what I started realizing is that people got enjoyment out of watching me be really cocky and confident.”

Powell can play cocky, but what he really enjoys is what comes afterward. He told me a story about his uncle Billy—one of the uncles who taught him how to fight. “There’s a story where someone tried to beat up his younger brother. This is in front of the family. This guy was rough with his younger brother, and Billy said, ‘Stop messing with him.’ And the guy hit him, and my uncle Billy grabbed this guy and just beat him to a pulp. And the whole time, while he was doing it, he said, ‘Why did you make me do this?’ And then he cried afterwards. So for the guy that’s on the ground, it must be the most confusing beatdown of his life. Why did you make me do this? And then the man cries.”

Powell likes these kinds of moments, when the whole thing gets upended and the confident guy has his confidence punctured. The moment where the jerk becomes a little less of a jerk. “I’m fascinated by the malleability of humans, our ability to change, our ability to become better,” Powell said. He is fascinated by the vulnerability in invulnerability.

Presenting ‘The State of the American Male in 2025’ - a @gq special report starring @glenpowell. Profile by me. Photos by @blobbybloherty. Styled by @tobiasfrericks. Link in bio!

One thing Glen Powell learned, in his years trying to make it, is that who you see yourself as and who the movie business might want you to be are often not the same thing. “That’s the funny part about Hollywood,” Powell said. “You can’t really choose it. People have to cast you in these movies. And I think what I started realizing is that people got enjoyment out of watching me be really cocky and confident.”

Powell can play cocky, but what he really enjoys is what comes afterward. He told me a story about his uncle Billy—one of the uncles who taught him how to fight. “There’s a story where someone tried to beat up his younger brother. This is in front of the family. This guy was rough with his younger brother, and Billy said, ‘Stop messing with him.’ And the guy hit him, and my uncle Billy grabbed this guy and just beat him to a pulp. And the whole time, while he was doing it, he said, ‘Why did you make me do this?’ And then he cried afterwards. So for the guy that’s on the ground, it must be the most confusing beatdown of his life. Why did you make me do this? And then the man cries.”

Powell likes these kinds of moments, when the whole thing gets upended and the confident guy has his confidence punctured. The moment where the jerk becomes a little less of a jerk. “I’m fascinated by the malleability of humans, our ability to change, our ability to become better,” Powell said. He is fascinated by the vulnerability in invulnerability.

Presenting ‘The State of the American Male in 2025’ - a @gq special report starring @glenpowell. Profile by me. Photos by @blobbybloherty. Styled by @tobiasfrericks. Link in bio!

One thing Glen Powell learned, in his years trying to make it, is that who you see yourself as and who the movie business might want you to be are often not the same thing. “That’s the funny part about Hollywood,” Powell said. “You can’t really choose it. People have to cast you in these movies. And I think what I started realizing is that people got enjoyment out of watching me be really cocky and confident.”

Powell can play cocky, but what he really enjoys is what comes afterward. He told me a story about his uncle Billy—one of the uncles who taught him how to fight. “There’s a story where someone tried to beat up his younger brother. This is in front of the family. This guy was rough with his younger brother, and Billy said, ‘Stop messing with him.’ And the guy hit him, and my uncle Billy grabbed this guy and just beat him to a pulp. And the whole time, while he was doing it, he said, ‘Why did you make me do this?’ And then he cried afterwards. So for the guy that’s on the ground, it must be the most confusing beatdown of his life. Why did you make me do this? And then the man cries.”

Powell likes these kinds of moments, when the whole thing gets upended and the confident guy has his confidence punctured. The moment where the jerk becomes a little less of a jerk. “I’m fascinated by the malleability of humans, our ability to change, our ability to become better,” Powell said. He is fascinated by the vulnerability in invulnerability.

Presenting ‘The State of the American Male in 2025’ - a @gq special report starring @glenpowell. Profile by me. Photos by @blobbybloherty. Styled by @tobiasfrericks. Link in bio!

In Mission: Impossible — Final Reckoning there is a sequence in which Tom Cruise hangs from the side of a biplane, before leaping onto a second biplane, all in midair. The practice of going out onto the wing of a flying airplane is called wing walking, and that is who Cruise went to first: some wing walkers. “They said, ‘What do you want to do?’ ” director Christopher McQuarrie told me. “And Tom said, ‘I want to be between the wings of the plane holding on to the tension wires, and I want to be in zero G between the wings.’ And wing walkers who do this for living said, ‘That will never happen. You can never do that.’ And Tom said, ‘All right, well, thank you very much for your time.’ ” And he and McQuarrie went and found some different wing walkers.

During the reporting of this article, I heard stories like this a lot. (Okay, one more: During the shooting of Fallout, McQuarrie told me, Cruise broke his ankle. “A doctor, a sports specialist, said to Tom, ‘It will be six months before you can walk. It’ll be nine months before you can run, if you ever run again.’ And Tom’s response was, ‘I don’t have time for that. I’ve got six weeks.’ And six weeks later, he was climbing Pulpit Rock on a shattered talus bone.”) If you’re wondering what Cruise has to say about all this, so was I. In time, I was invited to ask him a few questions via email. What makes Mission: Impossible…Mission: Impossible?, I wrote to him. Is it the process? The protagonist? The controlled chaos of the production? The stunts? The locations? The scale? “Dear Zach,” Cruise wrote back. “I don’t quite know how to answer this. Maybe it is all of these things and more.”

New feature for @GQ about the making of the world’s most insane action franchise. This was fun. Link in bio!

In Mission: Impossible — Final Reckoning there is a sequence in which Tom Cruise hangs from the side of a biplane, before leaping onto a second biplane, all in midair. The practice of going out onto the wing of a flying airplane is called wing walking, and that is who Cruise went to first: some wing walkers. “They said, ‘What do you want to do?’ ” director Christopher McQuarrie told me. “And Tom said, ‘I want to be between the wings of the plane holding on to the tension wires, and I want to be in zero G between the wings.’ And wing walkers who do this for living said, ‘That will never happen. You can never do that.’ And Tom said, ‘All right, well, thank you very much for your time.’ ” And he and McQuarrie went and found some different wing walkers.

During the reporting of this article, I heard stories like this a lot. (Okay, one more: During the shooting of Fallout, McQuarrie told me, Cruise broke his ankle. “A doctor, a sports specialist, said to Tom, ‘It will be six months before you can walk. It’ll be nine months before you can run, if you ever run again.’ And Tom’s response was, ‘I don’t have time for that. I’ve got six weeks.’ And six weeks later, he was climbing Pulpit Rock on a shattered talus bone.”) If you’re wondering what Cruise has to say about all this, so was I. In time, I was invited to ask him a few questions via email. What makes Mission: Impossible…Mission: Impossible?, I wrote to him. Is it the process? The protagonist? The controlled chaos of the production? The stunts? The locations? The scale? “Dear Zach,” Cruise wrote back. “I don’t quite know how to answer this. Maybe it is all of these things and more.”

New feature for @GQ about the making of the world’s most insane action franchise. This was fun. Link in bio!

In Mission: Impossible — Final Reckoning there is a sequence in which Tom Cruise hangs from the side of a biplane, before leaping onto a second biplane, all in midair. The practice of going out onto the wing of a flying airplane is called wing walking, and that is who Cruise went to first: some wing walkers. “They said, ‘What do you want to do?’ ” director Christopher McQuarrie told me. “And Tom said, ‘I want to be between the wings of the plane holding on to the tension wires, and I want to be in zero G between the wings.’ And wing walkers who do this for living said, ‘That will never happen. You can never do that.’ And Tom said, ‘All right, well, thank you very much for your time.’ ” And he and McQuarrie went and found some different wing walkers.

During the reporting of this article, I heard stories like this a lot. (Okay, one more: During the shooting of Fallout, McQuarrie told me, Cruise broke his ankle. “A doctor, a sports specialist, said to Tom, ‘It will be six months before you can walk. It’ll be nine months before you can run, if you ever run again.’ And Tom’s response was, ‘I don’t have time for that. I’ve got six weeks.’ And six weeks later, he was climbing Pulpit Rock on a shattered talus bone.”) If you’re wondering what Cruise has to say about all this, so was I. In time, I was invited to ask him a few questions via email. What makes Mission: Impossible…Mission: Impossible?, I wrote to him. Is it the process? The protagonist? The controlled chaos of the production? The stunts? The locations? The scale? “Dear Zach,” Cruise wrote back. “I don’t quite know how to answer this. Maybe it is all of these things and more.”

New feature for @GQ about the making of the world’s most insane action franchise. This was fun. Link in bio!

In Mission: Impossible — Final Reckoning there is a sequence in which Tom Cruise hangs from the side of a biplane, before leaping onto a second biplane, all in midair. The practice of going out onto the wing of a flying airplane is called wing walking, and that is who Cruise went to first: some wing walkers. “They said, ‘What do you want to do?’ ” director Christopher McQuarrie told me. “And Tom said, ‘I want to be between the wings of the plane holding on to the tension wires, and I want to be in zero G between the wings.’ And wing walkers who do this for living said, ‘That will never happen. You can never do that.’ And Tom said, ‘All right, well, thank you very much for your time.’ ” And he and McQuarrie went and found some different wing walkers.

During the reporting of this article, I heard stories like this a lot. (Okay, one more: During the shooting of Fallout, McQuarrie told me, Cruise broke his ankle. “A doctor, a sports specialist, said to Tom, ‘It will be six months before you can walk. It’ll be nine months before you can run, if you ever run again.’ And Tom’s response was, ‘I don’t have time for that. I’ve got six weeks.’ And six weeks later, he was climbing Pulpit Rock on a shattered talus bone.”) If you’re wondering what Cruise has to say about all this, so was I. In time, I was invited to ask him a few questions via email. What makes Mission: Impossible…Mission: Impossible?, I wrote to him. Is it the process? The protagonist? The controlled chaos of the production? The stunts? The locations? The scale? “Dear Zach,” Cruise wrote back. “I don’t quite know how to answer this. Maybe it is all of these things and more.”

New feature for @GQ about the making of the world’s most insane action franchise. This was fun. Link in bio!

In October of last year, the rapper Young Thug walked free from the Fulton County Jail in Atlanta, concluding one of the strangest and most fraught spectacles in modern music. Since getting out, he has mostly laid low, to the point of sometimes wearing a mask in public. He has not said much about the last few years of his life, or about anything at all, really. Until now.

Earlier this month, I met the rapper in a strange, taxidermy-filled house on the Eastside of Los Angeles for a GQ Video Cover Story. Moments before we were supposed to start talking, news broke that Georgia prosecutors were seeking to revoke Young Thug’s probation over a social media post that he’d made. At the time, details were scarce. But the renewed threat to his liberty felt urgent and real. For whatever reason, he decided to do the interview anyway. (“I feel really great,” he told me, not entirely convincingly. “Happy. Enjoying life.”) That night, we talked for several hours. The next day, a judge denied the prosecutors’ motion to send Young Thug back to jail, and that evening, Young Thug was courtside at a Lakers game.

New GQ Video Cover Story up now. Directed by @colevelev. Link in bio!!

From the window of the conference room at Artists Equity, Ben Affleck’s production company, you can see Los Angeles spread out for miles to the south—the ocean to the right, Downtown to the left, birds gently flying over everything in between. It’s a Monday in January, not quite two weeks after fires first began to sweep over the city, and the birds are oddly calming: the first few tentative signs of life returning. Affleck—tall, a little rumpled, extending a large mitt of a hand—is as jittery as the rest of us, though largely unscathed, despite reports to the contrary. “I noticed that there’s been stories about me,” he says, almost apologetically. “My house burning down and all these various things.” His house did not burn down, in fact, nor did the one he rents down the block from that house, though like many, he had to leave for a little while. But he is used to having to clear stuff like this up. “I was thinking to myself that this person’s impression”—meaning mine—“of my week is probably formed by three Daily Mail articles that are mostly absurd.”

Interviewed Ben Affleck for April issue of @gq. Photos by @gstyles. Styling by @georgecortina. Link in bio!

From the window of the conference room at Artists Equity, Ben Affleck’s production company, you can see Los Angeles spread out for miles to the south—the ocean to the right, Downtown to the left, birds gently flying over everything in between. It’s a Monday in January, not quite two weeks after fires first began to sweep over the city, and the birds are oddly calming: the first few tentative signs of life returning. Affleck—tall, a little rumpled, extending a large mitt of a hand—is as jittery as the rest of us, though largely unscathed, despite reports to the contrary. “I noticed that there’s been stories about me,” he says, almost apologetically. “My house burning down and all these various things.” His house did not burn down, in fact, nor did the one he rents down the block from that house, though like many, he had to leave for a little while. But he is used to having to clear stuff like this up. “I was thinking to myself that this person’s impression”—meaning mine—“of my week is probably formed by three Daily Mail articles that are mostly absurd.”

Interviewed Ben Affleck for April issue of @gq. Photos by @gstyles. Styling by @georgecortina. Link in bio!

From the window of the conference room at Artists Equity, Ben Affleck’s production company, you can see Los Angeles spread out for miles to the south—the ocean to the right, Downtown to the left, birds gently flying over everything in between. It’s a Monday in January, not quite two weeks after fires first began to sweep over the city, and the birds are oddly calming: the first few tentative signs of life returning. Affleck—tall, a little rumpled, extending a large mitt of a hand—is as jittery as the rest of us, though largely unscathed, despite reports to the contrary. “I noticed that there’s been stories about me,” he says, almost apologetically. “My house burning down and all these various things.” His house did not burn down, in fact, nor did the one he rents down the block from that house, though like many, he had to leave for a little while. But he is used to having to clear stuff like this up. “I was thinking to myself that this person’s impression”—meaning mine—“of my week is probably formed by three Daily Mail articles that are mostly absurd.”

Interviewed Ben Affleck for April issue of @gq. Photos by @gstyles. Styling by @georgecortina. Link in bio!

From the window of the conference room at Artists Equity, Ben Affleck’s production company, you can see Los Angeles spread out for miles to the south—the ocean to the right, Downtown to the left, birds gently flying over everything in between. It’s a Monday in January, not quite two weeks after fires first began to sweep over the city, and the birds are oddly calming: the first few tentative signs of life returning. Affleck—tall, a little rumpled, extending a large mitt of a hand—is as jittery as the rest of us, though largely unscathed, despite reports to the contrary. “I noticed that there’s been stories about me,” he says, almost apologetically. “My house burning down and all these various things.” His house did not burn down, in fact, nor did the one he rents down the block from that house, though like many, he had to leave for a little while. But he is used to having to clear stuff like this up. “I was thinking to myself that this person’s impression”—meaning mine—“of my week is probably formed by three Daily Mail articles that are mostly absurd.”

Interviewed Ben Affleck for April issue of @gq. Photos by @gstyles. Styling by @georgecortina. Link in bio!

From the window of the conference room at Artists Equity, Ben Affleck’s production company, you can see Los Angeles spread out for miles to the south—the ocean to the right, Downtown to the left, birds gently flying over everything in between. It’s a Monday in January, not quite two weeks after fires first began to sweep over the city, and the birds are oddly calming: the first few tentative signs of life returning. Affleck—tall, a little rumpled, extending a large mitt of a hand—is as jittery as the rest of us, though largely unscathed, despite reports to the contrary. “I noticed that there’s been stories about me,” he says, almost apologetically. “My house burning down and all these various things.” His house did not burn down, in fact, nor did the one he rents down the block from that house, though like many, he had to leave for a little while. But he is used to having to clear stuff like this up. “I was thinking to myself that this person’s impression”—meaning mine—“of my week is probably formed by three Daily Mail articles that are mostly absurd.”

Interviewed Ben Affleck for April issue of @gq. Photos by @gstyles. Styling by @georgecortina. Link in bio!

In November, the broadcasting legend David Letterman and I met at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, in Indiana, where Letterman grew up, to shoot a GQ Video Cover Story. It was Letterman’s idea to go to Indianapolis. “In show business, I find that I have pretended to be someone I’m truly not,” he told me. “In my life here in Indiana and at my home with my family, I am probably the person I actually am. And I regret that they don’t kind of cross at any point.”

Letterman is probably the most decorated and longest serving late night host in the history of television, a legacy he wears with his signature mix of pride, deflection, and self-loathing. I’ve interviewed a lot of people in my life. But I’m not sure if I’ve ever interviewed anyone quicker — with a joke, with a dodge, with a perfectly off-kilter anecdote — than David Letterman. At 77, he is still, improbably even to himself, working. “I’m surprised that I’m still doing it at my age,” he told me. “On the other hand, I still get a kick out of what we’re doing. So what does that mean? I don’t know.”

In our conversation we talked about, well, nearly everything — the art of interviewing, the cost of showbiz on the soul, the impossibility of retirement, Letterman’s years of late night wars with Jay Leno, his influence and total aversion to nostalgia, his skepticism of fame (“If fame has crushed you personally, I prefer that kind of person than somebody who wears it well”), and much more.

This was a truly amazing one to do. Thanks to @colevelev @danaamathews @thecarterrrrr @bradyisbrady @karolynpho @its.leo.f and of course @willwelch. Link in bio.

In November, the broadcasting legend David Letterman and I met at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, in Indiana, where Letterman grew up, to shoot a GQ Video Cover Story. It was Letterman’s idea to go to Indianapolis. “In show business, I find that I have pretended to be someone I’m truly not,” he told me. “In my life here in Indiana and at my home with my family, I am probably the person I actually am. And I regret that they don’t kind of cross at any point.”

Letterman is probably the most decorated and longest serving late night host in the history of television, a legacy he wears with his signature mix of pride, deflection, and self-loathing. I’ve interviewed a lot of people in my life. But I’m not sure if I’ve ever interviewed anyone quicker — with a joke, with a dodge, with a perfectly off-kilter anecdote — than David Letterman. At 77, he is still, improbably even to himself, working. “I’m surprised that I’m still doing it at my age,” he told me. “On the other hand, I still get a kick out of what we’re doing. So what does that mean? I don’t know.”

In our conversation we talked about, well, nearly everything — the art of interviewing, the cost of showbiz on the soul, the impossibility of retirement, Letterman’s years of late night wars with Jay Leno, his influence and total aversion to nostalgia, his skepticism of fame (“If fame has crushed you personally, I prefer that kind of person than somebody who wears it well”), and much more.

This was a truly amazing one to do. Thanks to @colevelev @danaamathews @thecarterrrrr @bradyisbrady @karolynpho @its.leo.f and of course @willwelch. Link in bio.

In November, the broadcasting legend David Letterman and I met at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, in Indiana, where Letterman grew up, to shoot a GQ Video Cover Story. It was Letterman’s idea to go to Indianapolis. “In show business, I find that I have pretended to be someone I’m truly not,” he told me. “In my life here in Indiana and at my home with my family, I am probably the person I actually am. And I regret that they don’t kind of cross at any point.”

Letterman is probably the most decorated and longest serving late night host in the history of television, a legacy he wears with his signature mix of pride, deflection, and self-loathing. I’ve interviewed a lot of people in my life. But I’m not sure if I’ve ever interviewed anyone quicker — with a joke, with a dodge, with a perfectly off-kilter anecdote — than David Letterman. At 77, he is still, improbably even to himself, working. “I’m surprised that I’m still doing it at my age,” he told me. “On the other hand, I still get a kick out of what we’re doing. So what does that mean? I don’t know.”

In our conversation we talked about, well, nearly everything — the art of interviewing, the cost of showbiz on the soul, the impossibility of retirement, Letterman’s years of late night wars with Jay Leno, his influence and total aversion to nostalgia, his skepticism of fame (“If fame has crushed you personally, I prefer that kind of person than somebody who wears it well”), and much more.

This was a truly amazing one to do. Thanks to @colevelev @danaamathews @thecarterrrrr @bradyisbrady @karolynpho @its.leo.f and of course @willwelch. Link in bio.

In November, the broadcasting legend David Letterman and I met at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, in Indiana, where Letterman grew up, to shoot a GQ Video Cover Story. It was Letterman’s idea to go to Indianapolis. “In show business, I find that I have pretended to be someone I’m truly not,” he told me. “In my life here in Indiana and at my home with my family, I am probably the person I actually am. And I regret that they don’t kind of cross at any point.”

Letterman is probably the most decorated and longest serving late night host in the history of television, a legacy he wears with his signature mix of pride, deflection, and self-loathing. I’ve interviewed a lot of people in my life. But I’m not sure if I’ve ever interviewed anyone quicker — with a joke, with a dodge, with a perfectly off-kilter anecdote — than David Letterman. At 77, he is still, improbably even to himself, working. “I’m surprised that I’m still doing it at my age,” he told me. “On the other hand, I still get a kick out of what we’re doing. So what does that mean? I don’t know.”

In our conversation we talked about, well, nearly everything — the art of interviewing, the cost of showbiz on the soul, the impossibility of retirement, Letterman’s years of late night wars with Jay Leno, his influence and total aversion to nostalgia, his skepticism of fame (“If fame has crushed you personally, I prefer that kind of person than somebody who wears it well”), and much more.

This was a truly amazing one to do. Thanks to @colevelev @danaamathews @thecarterrrrr @bradyisbrady @karolynpho @its.leo.f and of course @willwelch. Link in bio.

Before Dwayne Johnson grew up and became The Rock, he was just an itinerant kid, with a family that often lived paycheck to paycheck. “I was an only child,” he says. He attended a new school—North Carolina, Connecticut, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Florida, Georgia, Washington, Hawaii—almost every year. “I spent a lot of my childhood in the back seat of a car just driving from town to town as my dad would wrestle,” Johnson says. Places nobody knew him. Places where he was unknown, invisible.

Today, there is something in him that still craves that feeling. Fifteen years ago, Johnson found this farm. It scratched that itch, that feeling of being in the back seat by himself. Many times he comes here without even his family. “I think if you see the energy of the whirlwind that happens,” he says, “for me, I need a place where literally I see no one.”

Johnson says this earnestly to me, as we walk across one of the lush green fields on the property, with a GQ camera crew and Johnson’s own social media team both filming us. Such are the paradoxes of being Dwayne Johnson.

No one. “Except for me,” I say.

“Except for you,” Johnson says. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake.”

Presenting a new GQ Video Cover Story, live from Dwayne Johnson’s farm in Virginia. Two guys fishing and wearing the exact same outfit. Directed by @noeljohnhoward and @colevelev. Link to the video and print cover story in bio.

Before Dwayne Johnson grew up and became The Rock, he was just an itinerant kid, with a family that often lived paycheck to paycheck. “I was an only child,” he says. He attended a new school—North Carolina, Connecticut, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Florida, Georgia, Washington, Hawaii—almost every year. “I spent a lot of my childhood in the back seat of a car just driving from town to town as my dad would wrestle,” Johnson says. Places nobody knew him. Places where he was unknown, invisible.

Today, there is something in him that still craves that feeling. Fifteen years ago, Johnson found this farm. It scratched that itch, that feeling of being in the back seat by himself. Many times he comes here without even his family. “I think if you see the energy of the whirlwind that happens,” he says, “for me, I need a place where literally I see no one.”

Johnson says this earnestly to me, as we walk across one of the lush green fields on the property, with a GQ camera crew and Johnson’s own social media team both filming us. Such are the paradoxes of being Dwayne Johnson.

No one. “Except for me,” I say.

“Except for you,” Johnson says. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake.”

Presenting a new GQ Video Cover Story, live from Dwayne Johnson’s farm in Virginia. Two guys fishing and wearing the exact same outfit. Directed by @noeljohnhoward and @colevelev. Link to the video and print cover story in bio.

Before Dwayne Johnson grew up and became The Rock, he was just an itinerant kid, with a family that often lived paycheck to paycheck. “I was an only child,” he says. He attended a new school—North Carolina, Connecticut, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Florida, Georgia, Washington, Hawaii—almost every year. “I spent a lot of my childhood in the back seat of a car just driving from town to town as my dad would wrestle,” Johnson says. Places nobody knew him. Places where he was unknown, invisible.

Today, there is something in him that still craves that feeling. Fifteen years ago, Johnson found this farm. It scratched that itch, that feeling of being in the back seat by himself. Many times he comes here without even his family. “I think if you see the energy of the whirlwind that happens,” he says, “for me, I need a place where literally I see no one.”

Johnson says this earnestly to me, as we walk across one of the lush green fields on the property, with a GQ camera crew and Johnson’s own social media team both filming us. Such are the paradoxes of being Dwayne Johnson.

No one. “Except for me,” I say.

“Except for you,” Johnson says. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake.”

Presenting a new GQ Video Cover Story, live from Dwayne Johnson’s farm in Virginia. Two guys fishing and wearing the exact same outfit. Directed by @noeljohnhoward and @colevelev. Link to the video and print cover story in bio.

Before Dwayne Johnson grew up and became The Rock, he was just an itinerant kid, with a family that often lived paycheck to paycheck. “I was an only child,” he says. He attended a new school—North Carolina, Connecticut, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Florida, Georgia, Washington, Hawaii—almost every year. “I spent a lot of my childhood in the back seat of a car just driving from town to town as my dad would wrestle,” Johnson says. Places nobody knew him. Places where he was unknown, invisible.

Today, there is something in him that still craves that feeling. Fifteen years ago, Johnson found this farm. It scratched that itch, that feeling of being in the back seat by himself. Many times he comes here without even his family. “I think if you see the energy of the whirlwind that happens,” he says, “for me, I need a place where literally I see no one.”

Johnson says this earnestly to me, as we walk across one of the lush green fields on the property, with a GQ camera crew and Johnson’s own social media team both filming us. Such are the paradoxes of being Dwayne Johnson.

No one. “Except for me,” I say.

“Except for you,” Johnson says. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake.”

Presenting a new GQ Video Cover Story, live from Dwayne Johnson’s farm in Virginia. Two guys fishing and wearing the exact same outfit. Directed by @noeljohnhoward and @colevelev. Link to the video and print cover story in bio.

Before Dwayne Johnson grew up and became The Rock, he was just an itinerant kid, with a family that often lived paycheck to paycheck. “I was an only child,” he says. He attended a new school—North Carolina, Connecticut, Tennessee, Pennsylvania, Florida, Georgia, Washington, Hawaii—almost every year. “I spent a lot of my childhood in the back seat of a car just driving from town to town as my dad would wrestle,” Johnson says. Places nobody knew him. Places where he was unknown, invisible.

Today, there is something in him that still craves that feeling. Fifteen years ago, Johnson found this farm. It scratched that itch, that feeling of being in the back seat by himself. Many times he comes here without even his family. “I think if you see the energy of the whirlwind that happens,” he says, “for me, I need a place where literally I see no one.”

Johnson says this earnestly to me, as we walk across one of the lush green fields on the property, with a GQ camera crew and Johnson’s own social media team both filming us. Such are the paradoxes of being Dwayne Johnson.

No one. “Except for me,” I say.

“Except for you,” Johnson says. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake.”

Presenting a new GQ Video Cover Story, live from Dwayne Johnson’s farm in Virginia. Two guys fishing and wearing the exact same outfit. Directed by @noeljohnhoward and @colevelev. Link to the video and print cover story in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

It is the laugh you hear first. Heh heh heh heh heh. Unhurried. Like he’s got all the time in the world to do it. Some of the buildings here at Château Miraval, where Brad Pitt is just now tumbling out from wherever he spent the night, cup of coffee in hand, are nearly 200 years old, and the laugh rings off the stonework: heh heh heh heh heh. It rings through the terraces of olive trees. It ruffles the stone pots of lavender and rosemary. It sends the literal butterflies alighting on literal pink blossoms into the air, up toward the Provençal sky, which is the same soft blue as it was when Matisse painted it. It echoes off the lake and the vineyards and the ancient chapel and the black Mercedes convertible, top down, that is now arriving, with George Clooney at the wheel. Black sunglasses. Black polo. Loafers. When he sees Pitt, he yells: Brother! And then you hear the laugh again: heh heh heh heh heh.

Interviewed George Clooney and Brad Pitt for the September issue of @gq. Photos by @solvesundsbostudio. Styled by @georgecortina. Thank you @danaamathews. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.

Even before production began on Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 in the summer of 2022, in the vast wilderness of Utah, Costner was facing some setbacks. In 2021, he lost both of his parents. Not long after, he began to have issues agreeing on a shooting schedule for Yellowstone, issues that eventually spiraled into a contract dispute and a messy—and, until now, one-sided—argument in the press between Costner and the show’s cocreator Taylor Sheridan, as well as the production companies Paramount and 101 Studios. Last year, Costner’s wife of 18 years, Christine Baumgartner, filed for a divorce. Somehow Costner, throughout all of this, found a way to make not one but two Horizon films. And soon, he and Warner Bros. will embark on a risky and grandiose experiment that has never really been tried before, releasing both films in one summer, with Horizon: An American Saga - Chapter 1 coming to theaters in June, followed by Chapter 2 in August.

“There’s a lot that has happened,” Costner told me this spring at the home near Santa Barbara, California, where he has helped raise the three youngest of his seven children. He was once again seated in the theater of his mind. “I’m right now looking at myself in the dark and going, Are you going to fucking stand up and finish? Get up. I’m the audience. Get up, Kevin. Get the fuck up and deal with this and find the joy every day of seeing your kids play while you’re here—and then work your ass off to get this thing finished.”

A profile of Costner two years in the making, now up at @gq. Photographed by @latourfanny. Styled by @tietztietz. Link in bio.