David Dastmalchian on Horror, “The Life of Chuck” & “Murderbot”
Since his breakthrough role in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, David Dastmalchian has kept busy. The Kansas-born actor and filmmaker gave a colourful performance as Polka-Dot Man in 2021’s Suicide Squad; the same year, he plotted against Timothée Chalamet as Piter de Vries in Dune. By 2023, Dastmalchian had embraced the red scare as Oppenheimer’s William L. Borden, accusing Cillian Murphy of being a double agent. Recent ventures include hosting a demonic talk show (last year’s Late Night With The Devil), and struggling against a conscious computer (as Dr. Gurathin in 2025’s Murderbot series). Dastmalchian even steals the scene in the TIFF People’s Choice Award winner, The Life of Chuck.
Yet Dastmalchian’s resume goes beyond acting. The 49-year-old doubles as a comic book author, writing the cult-classic Count Crowley series. On top of that, he runs a production company, Good Fiend Films — the brains behind Late Night With The Devil. Ahead of Murderbot‘s season 1 finale, SHARP caught up with Dastmalchian to discuss his latest projects, creative process, and whether Hollywood is ready for horror.
You’ve had a busy year: Murderbot, The Life of Chuck, Dexter, One Piece. How do you juggle all of these different projects and mediums?
Honestly, it’s quite a spectrum. There are days when I wake up and I am so thrilled and excited about what lies ahead. As someone who has spent his life dreaming of getting to tell stories — especially at this level of film and television, and especially with the limitless, imaginative potential of genre storytelling — I go: “Oh my God, I can’t believe I get to go put on this Gurathin costume today. I can’t believe I get to go be Mr. 3 today. I can’t believe I get to be a part of a Mike Flanagan film. I can’t believe I get to do scenes with Michael C. Hall as Dexter. I can’t believe, I can’t believe, I can’t believe.” Then some days, I go: “I need a nap.” Then, I take a nap, and I wake up surrounded by the best group of people.
I have a small company that I started in the effort of exploring genre storytelling. We launched co-producing Late Night With The Devil and have produced specials with the Boulet Brothers. We now have a number of television, film, and publishing comic book projects. It’s called Good Fiend Films, and we are just a small troop of monster kids that love telling stories. I have amazing support through my publicity and management teams, and I’ve just got an incredible family. I’m so blessed, I’m so lucky. I love what I get to do.
You’ve built a career with genre pieces, where you bring complex characters to life. What draws you to the roles you’ve taken on? What are you looking for when you first read a script?
“I found myself going, ‘Well, I love genre, I love science fiction, I love horror. I love superheroes, I love comic books. Could I take these same complex, complicated questions and characters, and infuse those into the fantastical worlds that I dream of creating all the time?'”
David Dastmalchian
Most of the work I’ve had the privilege of doing in recent years has been thanks to the incredible gift I’ve been given of filmmakers reaching out to me and saying, “I’ve got this role in this thing. Would you like to take a look at it?” And I look at it, and I go, “Oh my God, I can’t believe Mike Flanagan would trust me with such a beautiful scene in The Life of Chuck. I can’t believe Paul and Chris Weitz trust me with this incredible character created by Martha Wells. I can’t believe the team behind One Piece thinks I’m the right person for this, or the Dexter folks want to give me this opportunity to do a role unlike anything I’ve done before. So that, honestly, is the greater truth. So much of the work I’ve been doing lately is thanks to luck — really amazing people somehow thinking I’m right for their project. I wish I could say that I had a focussed, planned, or plotted strategy and intentionality behind making these things happen.
I will say, when new things come to my desk from someone I don’t know, I’m very lucky that I (and the people around me) will read the material. Everybody knows what really draws me to projects. Often the question we ask is, “Who’s the good monster in this story?” Whether it’s a drama, comedy, horror, a sci-fi, superhero story. I think the world is populated by good and bad monsters — mostly good. So, like, “Who’s the monster, who’s the good monster? What is this role for me?” With a film like Late Night With the Devil, [I ask] “Is this an opportunity for me to take a swing at a ball that I never get pitched? And if so, can I muster the courage and the discipline it’s gonna take to try and get there? And am I willing to fall flat on my face if I can’t do it?” It’s intense, but those are the questions I ask myself.
You’re also on the production side, taking that role in projects like Late Night with the Devil and Animals. How has your involvement grown over the years?
I was so lucky to be with a great couple of producing partners on Animals, where I learned so much about supporting and shepherding the artistic process. That was a story that I wrote, created, and built from the ground up based around ideas that really mattered to me — especially ideas around the concepts of codependency and addiction. It was told through the lens of a love story.
With the success of that film and subsequent projects that I made — where I stuck true to trying to tell stories in which I could wrestle with questions that really haunt me — I found myself going, “Well, I love genre, I love science fiction, I love horror. I love superheroes, I love comic books. Could I take these same complex, complicated questions and characters, and infuse those into the fantastical worlds that I dream of creating all the time?”
It really kicked off with my comic book series, Count Crowley. The success of Count Crowley gave me the inspiration to say, “Yes, I want to form Good Fiend films. I want to do publishing, film, television, and even unscripted shows that dive into the infinite potential of genre storytelling, while wrestling with ideas of identity, agency, addiction, dependency — matters of heart and spirit that are so hard for me to make sense of.” I think they’re hard for everybody to make sense of. So, going into those spaces and telling those stories — it’s everything for me.
It’s interesting, what you were saying about how these genre films can talk about identity and agency. Recent horror films — The Substance, Sinners — have brought shown how horror can really force an audience to tune into their discomfort. Over the course of your career, have you noticed a shift in the way that horror is talked about?
I’ve absolutely noticed in our time, let’s say in the last 10 years or so. The revolutionary kickoff of a film like Get Out said to the landscape of filmmakers out there: ‘I’m going to take an idea that’s getting me personal to me as a storyteller. I’m going to craft an excellently-told, thrilling narrative and I’m going to not only wrestle with some really tough questions, but I’m going to let you, as an audience, sit and squirm and wrestle with some really uncomfortable questions.” We don’t even necessarily need to answer those questions by the end of the journey, but damn, we can both be entertained, transported, and challenged all in one good sitting at the cinema.
On the heels of that incredible inspiration, which I really do feel like Jordan Peele lit the fuse for, there was an explosion of artists who have now populated the landscape. They’re willing to push all the boundaries of filmmaking from gonzo, exploitation horror to micro-budget, very soft, quiet, intimate horror; psychological thriller, supernatural horror.
I think even a film like Late Night with the Devil — which on its surface is a fun exorcism, possession story that takes place on a vintage, live television broadcast — is actually a really fascinating space for me to wrestle with ideas of perception and presentation. I think I as David — the human, the dad, the citizen — has worked very hard to figure out who I am as a human being. But oftentimes, as a public figure, there’s a presentational quality to that; it can start to slip into feelings of inauthenticity. With Jack Delroy in Late Night With the Devil, it was all about breaking down the barrier between those two and seeing what was really lurking inside, which is hard.
“‘I want to convince people, in the moment, that my character is suffering, surviving, thriving, dying, reviving — whatever I’m called upon to do. I want people, when they see what the lens captures, to go: ‘Oh, shit, I even see a little of myself in that.'”
David Dastmalchian
What does getting into character look like for you? Is there a process that you employ throughout each project? Does it vary?
The process varies from project to project, certainly. I do have a toolbox that I have been building up since I was a young actor, with all forms of techniques, skills, and tools to recreate emotional states of being. Hopefully, [the performance] feels authentic enough for the audience to buy into the given circumstances of the story that I’m trying to tell.
Lately, for me to achieve that, it involves really looking at the world in which my character exists and trying to work from the outside in. How does the environment in which my character exists affect me as a character? How does it affect my body? How does it affect the way I move through space? How does it affect the way that I communicate: how I use my voice, how I use my facial muscles, how I use my forms of expression? Then, I get into my history as a character — their childhood, the years, months, and days leading up to where our story begins — how does that shape the way that I move through space? Family of origin, job… [I consider] all of these factors, working from the outside in.
I don’t get into the deep, deep, deep psychological, interior stuff until we’re in the midst of playing with the words. I think it’s much more important that the audience believes what’s happening on my face, with my voice, with my body. So, whatever it is that I’m having to think about inside to make that feel real… it just doesn’t matter. It’s an illusion. I want to be a master illusionist. I want to convince people, in the moment, that my character is suffering, surviving, thriving, dying, reviving — whatever I’m called upon to do. I want people, when they see what the lens captures, to go: “Oh, shit, I even see a little of myself in that.” That turns me on big time.
Do you see yourself in these characters? Whether it’s a publication, a film, or a TV series, are there things that resonate?
Oh yeah. I always find that kernel that I can tap into. Gurathin from Murderbot, he’s an individual who is so deeply afraid of abandonment and betrayal that he’s built up this very meticulous system of controlling — or trying to control — the world around him through data, information, through planning. The people that he loves, he loves so deeply. But sometimes, he is incapable of expressing that love in a way that doesn’t make them feel like he’s trying to control outcomes.
I, as David, know exactly how that feels. I’ve been working now, for a good long time, on trying to heal the anxious part of myself that desperately wants people to approve and validate my existence through their love and constancy. It’s totally problematic; it backfires and it doesn’t work. So, that was a huge thing I could tap into. Gurathin also has struggled with addiction. I’m 23 years clean and sober now, and my struggle with addiction is much more than just drugs and alcohol. It can take place in work, in people — in so many aspects of being a human being.
I can even find myself in a character as audacious as Mr. 3, a really wonderful member of the Baroque Works who shows up in One Piece as a really dark fellow with really dark intent. I mean, not to oversimplify, but I’m a candle lover — I love my candles — and Mr. 3 can make candles out of his hands. So there you go, right there; that helped me find my way in.
“I hope for anyone out there who is on their path — or even if they’re struggling right now and feeling low self worth or feeling overwhelmed by darkness, depression, anxiety, feeling insulated, isolated, alone — just know you’re not.”
David Dastmalchian
MurderBot explores how technology can enable that need to control. What it was like to work on that series while, in real life, we’re having discussions about new technology and the ethics behind it. How did your work on this show shape your perspective?
Getting to be a part of Murderbot deeply influenced the way that I look at, interpret, and perceive the world around me. Certainly, some of the themes, when you look at Martha [Wells’] books, are corporate control of society and government at large. Right now, we’re living in a time where some of the biggest holders of wealth and corporate power are literally sitting in the houses of our government, dictating the way in which our government is constructed. That’s kind of freaky.
Technologically, my dear friends in PresAux [Murderbot], as we go on this research expedition, are forced by their corporation to bring along this security unit — which, in my opinion, is a killing machine — that has its own data processing unit. Therefore, it’s got its own kind of programmed intelligence. And I, as Gurathin, am very concerned and suspicious that something about it is malfunctioning.
When I think about where we’re at as a society in the labour landscape — when it comes to entertainment, when it comes to news, when it comes to social media — where does the line need to be drawn? Who is holding the levers, who is turning the knobs, and who is pushing the buttons? Does it need to be a human being? And if so, why? Self-driving cars are starting to show up more and more frequently in our cities, and I’ve often wondered: if you took the humans off the street and you put computer driven cars on the street, would we have more or less accidents? And if it’s less, is that the criteria with which we should be making all of these decisions? I don’t know. I could talk about this shit for days.
Good Fiend films is focused on horror, science fiction, fantasy. That interested me because all of these genres are fiction, but — even though fiction takes you out of reality — these genres can deal with real-world topics. What about those genres appeals to you and why did you decide to focus on them?
Well, I grew up with my nose deep in comic books and watching creature features, horror shows, as well as science fiction — from all the Ridley Scott stuff to old 1950s sci-fi up through the Star Wars universe — and so many other things that I just was ravenously obsessed with. Then, I went off and I studied the craft of acting, and I dove into the depths of everything from the classics, Shakespeare, all the way up through 20th century modern and American drama — the Arthur Millers, the Sam Shepherds — to even more contemporary writers like Naomi Wallace, et cetera. I felt that the human experience, the excavation of these dark, dark, difficult, and beautiful aspects of the human experience were so deeply examined in that space.
I was a student of cinema as well, and that led me into the complex, inner workings of complicated, free-thinking, independent filmmakers. You watch a film like Ratcatcher, you watch Blue Velvet, or a film like Happiness, a film like Me and You and Everyone We Know, and you go: “Oh, my God, there’s this courage and bravery with confronting this stuff that’s really weird, really so difficult.” I lived in that space for a while, but that child in me was yearning to break free in storytelling, and was still so in love with the mise-en-scene — the artistry, the world building — of monster movies and science fiction movies and spaceships and graveyard and haunted houses. So then I go, “Why can’t I merge these two things together? Why can’t I find a way to try and explore really complicated and complex ideas about the human experience through the lens of genre?” Going back to, like I was saying, the revolution kicked off by filmmakers like Jordan Peele and so many who came after, I go, “I want to launch Good Fiend films.” I want to explore ideas of addiction, identity, agency, society, sexuality, all the constructs, outside of this playbook we’ve been given. What if we question everything? What if the way we can ask those questions is through goblins, ghouls, ghosts, and gigawatts, you know?
In all of these different fields — writing, acting, producing — what keeps you grounded? What is the through line for you as an artist?
I have a daily discipline at the moment, which involves a great deal of work. [I’m] striving to become my own primary source of support support and safety. Up until this moment in my life, I’ve mostly looked to others — either through family or romantic relationships, and in the past, definitely substances — as a way of grounding and protecting myself from the discomfort of day to day life. So, my grounding process right now, because it’s new to me, is pretty intensive and lengthy. Sometimes I take as much as three hours of my day to try to just be level. That includes cognitive behavioural therapy on a regular basis, 12 step work through the recovery community that I’m a part of. It involves meditation, yoga, exercise, breath work, gratitude work, prayer, a faith in a power greater than myself. I carve out time, free from devices, spending as much time as possible with my two amazing children and getting to learn as much from the experience of raising them as I hope they’re learning from my example — both my successes as a father and my failures as a father. I read and learn from minds that have gone so far to understanding how to navigate all this stuff. There’s a lot. I wish I could give you a simple answer, but it’s a daily routine that keeps evolving and growing.
I hope for anyone out there who is on their path — or even if they’re struggling right now and feeling low self worth or feeling overwhelmed by darkness, depression, anxiety, feeling insulated, isolated, alone — just know you’re not. The world will try to trick you into believing you are, because the world needs you to buy something. You don’t need to buy anything. You belong, you’re loved. You should be here. We all should, even sometimes when we feel like we shouldn’t.
Murderbot is now streaming on Apple TV.
This transcript has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
