George MacKay sees his future in an indie film's handmade past

The actor shares how he waded through uncharted time travel for Mark Jenkin's Rose Of Nevada.

By Monica Castillo  |  May 28, 2026 | 1:00pm
Photo: 1-2 Special
Film Features Interview
George MacKay sees his future in an indie film's handmade past

Since playing one of the Lost Boys in an early 2000s adaptation of Peter Pan, actor George MacKay has appeared in everything from period pieces like Pride and True History Of The Kelly Gang to spectacles like 1917 and The End to intense dramas like The Beast and Femme. MacKay has shown a range that he says mainly comes from focus. With Rose Of Nevada—a film MacKay describes as “unlike any other film that you’ve seen”—the actor takes that focus to a new level, with a subtle approach to a role with few words but deep regret, a performance that could only be captured 27 seconds at a time.

Set in a fishing village in Cornwall, Mark Jenkin’s Rose Of Nevada takes its name from a long-lost boat that reappears at the dock after decades lost at sea. Desperate for work and unaware of the vessel’s history, Nick (MacKay) and Liam (Callum Turner) sign up for fishing expeditions only to return home to the village 30 years before their time. Nick must find a way back to his own timeline to reunite with his wife and young daughter. 

“Unless you know Mark Jenkin’s work and you’re coming to it as a fan of Mark’s, there aren’t many films like this tonally, aesthetically, thematically,” MacKay said. “It’s very unique.” The A.V. Club spoke to MacKay about what inspired him to board the Rose Of Nevada, the process of immersing himself in his acting process, filming with Super 16, and falling in love with the seaside setting.

The A.V. Club: You’ve been an actor for over half your life, appearing in everything from Captain Fantastic to The Beast to 1917. What attracts you when you’re looking for your next project?

George MacKay: It’s moved and changed over time, I reckon. It’s usually one of three different things. It’s the story itself, being part of that story in whatever element, and then it’s about the sort of personal learning that might come. Then there’s the director, and wanting to—regardless of the story—be part of that director’s body of work. Over the last few years, [there] has been a real desire to be part of great directors’ work. The main thing that it boils down to for me is about the process of work. I want to keep learning the process of work because, at the end of the day, that’s all I have. Some films don’t see the light of day; some films do well. There’s no knowing what the final piece will be. The only thing that I have real contact with is the making of it.

I’m intrigued and inspired when a director has a particular way of working that will change how I work. That goes for all of those scripts you mentioned, and also what the story itself is trying to do with something like 1917. Sam [Mendes] is obviously a master, but it was also a masterful director doing something like this one-shot film. That’s where it related to Rose Of Nevada. I was a fan of Mark [Jenkin]’s first film, Bait, and understood his process to be very particular and intrinsic to the filmmaking. When there was the chance to be part of Rose Of Nevada, that was my draw.

AVC: Once you find a script or director that you want to work with, do you have a go-to process to prepare?

GM: It moves and changes with whatever the character or the project requires. At the end of the day, time spent in any form is usually great. That time spent learning your lines or learning the history of the context, practicing the accent, hanging out with the team, thinking about it, going on walks. The time spent, whether it’s conscious or unconscious, with a project is always beneficial. I’ve got certain things that I do to commit time consciously to it. Currently, the script is what the audience sees, and I’m more focused now on [what] I think involves the audience a bit more. If you can know and inhabit that, it sounds so simple, but some of the time, I get more concerned with the stuff around and outside of the script. The script is like the spine of the film, so I’ll make that my first step and that will then inform the shoot. Then you’ll get to a word that you don’t know the meaning of, or a context or stakes in the scene that you feel like [you’re] missing, and you have to go and figure those out. When they say that word, what does that mean? And then you go on a deep dive on fishing boats, nuclear bunkers, or tattoos, or whatever the subject is. Ultimately, I want my process to be flexible and to keep changing over time.

AVC: What about Bait intrigued you enough to say, “That’s a filmmaker I want to work with?”

GM: I saw it in the cinema on my own, and it felt like a film from another time, but it somehow didn’t feel derivative. It didn’t feel like it was someone doing a pastiche or a hokey homage to films gone by. It felt, which thematically pertains to all of Mark’s films in a way, out of time. I couldn’t put my finger on why I liked it. It was just a feeling. It was the enjoyment of not fully understanding it, but being moved by these visuals, this sound. Before I even got to intellectualizing it, it just felt right, jarring, unsettling, and inspiring. It looked and sounded different to any film that I’d seen at that time in the cinema. You feel the integrity of Mark’s process in his films. 

AVC: That extends to Rose Of Nevada. Part of that is rooted in the visual approach that Jenkins takes shooting on Super 16 film. What was it like to work with that medium as an actor?

GM: It was great. It was in some ways very different, and some ways totally the same. Mark said in the first meeting and then again [on] day one rehearsal, this is the camera, and we literally looked at it, he opened it up, and he said, “This is the mechanics of it. It winds up, and we’ve got 27 seconds. Unless I put an electric monitor on, which I don’t really want to do, we’ve got 27 seconds. If we go beyond 27 seconds in a scene, I’m going to say, stop, you freeze, I’m going to wind it back up, you go back two lines and then we’ll continue, and I’ll probably do one take, maybe two, very rarely I’ll do three, and I will only shoot exactly what I want for the edit. If you’ve got a line that I need and you’ve taken a sip of your water or something, we’ll play the whole scene, but you’ll only hear the camera running for your line and for that. So don’t worry about that.” And that’s that. That’s what we have to do if we’re going to make it this way. 

There’s no sound recorded in the entire set. Mark does all the sound post-production Foley with his sound designer, and then we’ll come back three months later and record all the dialogue, breathing, and noises in his booth in Cornwall. It didn’t really change my process other than maybe it made me aim at the target a bit more in terms of the time you’re working with film. You’ll offer 10 different versions so that you can go home at the end of the day and go, “I did everything, and now they can decide what the best bit is and it’s out of my hands.” It’s made me home in a bit more on accuracy in the work and being at peace if Mark says it’s good, we move on.

AVC: Did Jenkin give a lot of feedback since you could only do a few takes? 

GM: Mark really didn’t want to impress too much. I innately understood there is a tonality to Mark’s film, which we were stepping into. It’s not plot-heavy. Even still, in all the Q&As we’ve done and all the time we’re on set, he won’t say his interpretation of the film or what certain bits mean. He is almost militant about leaving a sparse openness to allow for everyone else’s uncluttered projection and interpretation. He wanted that of his actors as well. That allows things to be interpreted many different ways. Because his films feel so real, as well as being sort of hyperreal, there’s a grounded earthiness to all the characters and the circumstances. 

I wanted to make sure that I had a very clear sense of who my character Nick was. What I got Mark to do a few times in rehearsal was just to interview me in character. So even though we weren’t recording sound, I’d do my accent the whole time, getting that Cornish rhythm, that sort of Cornish male thing. Then it was almost like a therapy session interview where I would speak and say things about the character or as the character that he probably would never say to anyone, so that I would be clear on what his hopes, dreams, and worries were. I found that he barely said anything. It was like the script. He’s just a very quiet man. Even in the cities we’re always filling silences, putting your best foot forward, and always keeping the ball in the air. What I loved about the character is he’s just in a mental situation, but he’s actually a really straightforward bloke, just trying to do the best for his family. 

AVC: I’m glad you brought up the rhythm of the Cornish setting and the community that’s there. You moved your family to live out in that area for a couple of months. How did that help inform your performance? 

GM: It made logistical sense. My kids were very, very young, and so we went down as a family. That’s so much of who the character is as well. Mark knew that when I first met with [him]; it was to read for Callum’s role. We had a conversation where we didn’t even talk about the script once. After that meeting, he said, “I think you are more of a Nick.” Suddenly, that made more sense. My kids were very young, or still are very young, but particularly young, so you’re up [at night] and doing all of that business. That kind of domestic fullness was so present throughout the job that it bled into [the movie] as much as the Cornish element.

Cornwall, as a place, is really properly magical. With this job, I’m blessed to move around a lot of places and get used to pitching up in new cities very quickly and then leaving them again—cities, towns, countries. I’m quite good at moving somewhere and then just moving on. But Cornwall really got under my skin. It’s one of the few places that I’ve really missed since I’ve left. I don’t know what it is, it’s just magic. Callum and I used to joke about it. We were like new boyfriends at the wedding. We were coming into Mark’s family. He has his setup, all the people who have made Mark’s films before. It’s all very family-orientated. That value of community is not something that we long for growing up in a place like London. That, for me, is a huge theme of the film, and that’s something that Mark carries through in his day-to-day and his team down in Cornwall.

AVC: Your character’s dynamic with Callum Turner’s is at times standoffish and competitive, but then there’s a quiet sense of solidarity this experience gives them. How did you two balance out your performances? 

GM: So much has to be credited to the script. There’s not much talking, and that dynamic is rooted in Mark’s writing. I was so excited to work with Cal. We’ve known each other without knowing each other for a long time. We’ve grown up together. We’ve been doing it for a long time. I’ve known people that he’s worked with, he’s known people that I’ve worked with. We’ve once met in a queue for the theater, but otherwise, we’ve never come across each other. The minute I heard that Callum was part of this, it’s like, oh wow, he really adds weight to a production. He’s just lovely. It sounds wishy-washy or smooshy to say, but he’s just a really good man, really cares about the work, wants to be part of great work and make great work. My home is a very feminine household; got lots of girls in the family. So it was interesting to be part of that—when we go to work, plus Mark and the crew—very male setting. 

AVC: You have a number of projects coming out soon, including Rose Of Nevada, an adaptation of Sense And Sensibility, and more. What are you excited about sharing with audiences? 

GM: Rose Of Nevada, genuinely, it’s so wonderful. In the U.K., it’s not a big film in terms of the budget and all of that kind of stuff, [but] it’s got such a wonderful reception. As a fan of film, it’s just wonderful to see a film like this being supported, championed, and folks going to see it. Sense And Sensibility, I’m really excited for. I can’t say too much because it’s not out yet, and they’ll have their plan, but it’s such a wonderful cast. Georgia [Oakley], her first film, Blue Jean, if you haven’t seen it, it’s fantastic. What she’s done with this script is she—no pun intended—has [merged] her artistic sensibility with the kind of whip-smart script that Diana Reid has written. I haven’t actually seen the original, but Emma Thompson, I hear that was her first screenplay and then she went on and won the Oscar, but this is Diana’s first screenplay because she’s a novelist before now. I hadn’t read the book, and I hadn’t seen the original film when I first read the script, I just thought this is fucking electric, and it’s really great. I hope that we have translated that with the film. I think between Diana’s writing and George’s direction, it’s a cool collection of people making it. I just finished Tom Ford’s new film Cry To Heaven, but I literally finished a few weeks ago, so I’m intrigued, but it’s so far off. I’m not going to say, “Go see that one” just yet.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. Rose Of Nevada opens on June 19.

 
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