The other day, some friends and I were trying to figure out where Mikey Madison had gone. Two months had passed since she won an Academy Award for her performance in Anora, and nearly a year since that film had premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. Since then, she seemed to have a clear schedule ahead—no movies, no prestige TV shows. A big blank space. It felt strange for someone everyone had been talking about.
Eventually, rumors surfaced about what had been offered to her: a Star Wars movie opposite Ryan Gosling and a Resident Evil reboot. But she had, apparently, turned both down—despite what would have been guaranteed eyeballs and healthy paychecks. Instead, last Friday, she made a move no one had expected: signing on to a strange indie thriller from a director few people had heard of.
That film is Reptilia, a Florida-set story of a mermaid luring a dentist into the illegal exotic animal trade. Its director, Alejandro Landes, made the wild and accomplished coming-of-age war movie Monos a few years ago. Kirsten Dunst is her co-star. If that news sounds strange––the biggest young female actor of the moment rejecting money and stardom in favour of an indie movie that’s not likely to make her more famous or rich––it shouldn’t.
The film industry claims to be in crisis because it’s not making movie stars anymore. In a recent National Research Study, it was revealed that none of the 25 actors that would bring American audiences to the theater were under 30. Denzel Washington, at 70, topped the list. Zendaya and Margot Robbie—both in their early 30s—were the youngest, but neither cracked the top 15. Timothée Chalamet didn’t make the cut. Nor did Florence Pugh, Jacob Elordi, or Madison.
That’s less of a comment on their talent, and more a reflection of what they want. Two decades ago, the hottest stars were everywhere: leading blockbusters and studio comedies, covering magazines, and dominating tabloids.. The arthouse actors––the Daniel Day Lewises and Philip Seymour Hoffmans––mostly chose a quieter life.
“This new generation is operating in an industry built on the ashes of those who were burned by it.”
Now it’s flipped. We’re living in the era of the artthrob: unconventionally handsome, notably sensitive stars, beloved by A24-core film fans. Today’s ‘stars’ don’t act like stars. They’re making interesting choices and trying, as much as possible, to keep themselves out of the limelight. Chalamet, this past weekend, made his red carpet debut with Kylie Jenner—not at the Met Gala or the Oscars, but at the David Di Donatello Awards in Rome, where he was being honored. Madison doesn’t even have an Instagram account.
They’ve seen what chasing the biggest thing in the world did to the generation before them: burnout, overexposure, and a desire to go into hiding. No wonder stars like Jim Carrey, Cameron Diaz and, more recently, Jennifer Lawrence—once extremely bankable—stepped away from the spotlight. Franchise films made them famous, but now, fame isn’t the goal.
Or rather, it doesn’t have to be. Where a blockbuster paycheck once recouped the costs of an indie, now a fashion or fragrance contract does. (Timmy’s Bleu de Chanel contract? A rumored $35 million.)
That’s a good shift. Even if more folks see them on billboards than on the big screen, these actors can consistently do the kind of work that used to be a side project. Until Gladiator II, and since then, Paul Mescal’s films have been profoundly lowkey and mostly well reviewed, made for little money at niche studios with modest box office returns. (After Gladiator II’s $460 million global take, his next ‘biggest’ movie at the box office, All of Us Strangers, made just $19 million.) Elordi, who has the energy of the world’s biggest star, hasn’t appeared in a franchise film since completing his duties on The Kissing Booth trilogy for Netflix in 2021. Even Zendaya has pivoted away from Spider-Man movies towards tantalizing arthouse fare, like Challengers or The Drama, soon to be released by A24. If The Drama breaks $100 million at the box office, I’ll quit my job.
This new generation is operating in an industry built on the ashes of those who were burned by it. Around every corner, there’s a biopic of a bygone icon like Marilyn Monroe—someone who owned Hollywood but was ultimately destroyed by it. Today, it seems nobody wants to carry that weight. That’s not a bad thing.
If no actor under 30 can sell a movie like Leonardo DiCaprio did in the ’90s, maybe the answer isn’t finding someone willing to take that on. Maybe it’s embracing this acting class for what they are: thoughtful, private, creatively daring. Let the IP-fueled blockbusters run on autopilot. The industry will be fine. After all, millions of people saw The Minecraft Movie, despite the likes of Elordi, Mescal, Chalamet, or Madison not being on the callsheet. Thankfully, they were busy making better things.
photography FRANCESC PLANES