Everybody Wants Him: The persuasive star power of… | Little White Lies

Acting Up

Every­body Wants Him: The per­sua­sive star pow­er of Glen Powell

16 Jul 2024

Words by Gayle Sequeira

Group of people, some wearing cowboy hats and sunglasses, with a pink background.
Group of people, some wearing cowboy hats and sunglasses, with a pink background.
From an aver­age anato­my base­ball play­er to a sar­cas­tic per­son­al assis­tant, Hol­ly­wood’s new­ly anoint­ed man of the moment appears to have fig­ured out the for­mu­la for success.

We hear Glen Pow­ell before we see him in Richard Linklater’s 2016 breezy, sun-soaked col­lege hang­out movie Every­body Wants Some!!, and over the years that cocky Tex­an inflec­tion has become imme­di­ate­ly recog­nis­able to any­one famil­iar with the onscreen per­sona he’s cul­ti­vat­ed since. In his first major role, Pow­ell thrums with unre­strained ener­gy as col­lege upper­class­man Walt Finnegan, talk­ing a mile a minute, infus­ing oth­er­wise mun­dane lines with the the­atri­cal­i­ty of a British accent at ran­dom, loose-limbed on the dance­floor. Assured and smooth-talk­ing, he doesn’t take him­self too seri­ous­ly, but he can sell you on any­thing, from a scoop of whipped cream (“It’s about the way the ingre­di­ents make you feel,” he coos) to a date (Walt’s patent­ed rou­tine for pick­ing up women at clubs involves talk­ing about his aver­age dick” so they aren’t intim­i­dat­ed. It shouldn’t work, but does). In Hit Man, Powell’s fourth col­lab­o­ra­tion with Lin­klater, his char­ac­ter – mild-man­nered pro­fes­sor Gary John­son – par­lays that same irre­press­ible con­fi­dence and charm into sell­ing him­self. Or at least a ver­sion of him that doesn’t real­ly exist at first.

The actor employs charis­ma like a con­cealed weapon, flip­ping between mil­que­toast phi­los­o­phy and psy­chol­o­gy pro­fes­sor and per­sua­sive fake con­tract killer with alarm­ing ease. Under­cov­er, his voice gains an author­i­ta­tive edge, his body lan­guage is freer, and his demeanour is more assertive. Gary John­son recog­nis­es that he can be any­body he wants and, as the var­i­ous facets of his put-on per­son­al­i­ty bleed into his orig­i­nal one, the trans­for­ma­tion takes on anoth­er lay­er: here is an actor becom­ing a full-fledged movie star.

Powell’s onscreen con­fi­dence is often inex­tri­ca­ble from his All-Amer­i­can appear­ance – in sev­er­al of his movies, char­ac­ters draw atten­tion to just how good-look­ing he is, with his char­ac­ter in 2012’s Stuck in Love sim­ply iden­ti­fied as Good Look­ing Frat Guy’ – and often bol­stered by the writ­ing mak­ing him one of the smartest peo­ple in the room. Each of his char­ac­ters has always pos­sessed a degree of unflap­pa­bil­i­ty, which comes in handy giv­en his pen­chant for por­tray­ing fig­ures of Amer­i­can author­i­ty – sergeants, colonels, astro­nauts, pilots, and NASA officials.

The actor first brought his good-natured ami­a­bil­i­ty to the pres­sures of the space race in Hid­den Fig­ures (2016). We don’t have time to be scared,” says his char­ac­ter – Marine Corps pilot John Glenn – at a press con­fer­ence, mir­ror­ing Walt’s zen Pres­sure is a choice” out­look from Every­body Wants Some!! Pow­ell plays John as supreme­ly easy-going, such that when we final­ly see him sweat upon his fraught re-entry to Earth, the sense of dan­ger is imme­di­ate­ly inten­si­fied. Though he would go on to play sim­i­lar­ly whole­some all-Amer­i­can heroes, Sand Cas­tle (2017) instead chan­nels the actor’s con­fi­dence into crude machis­mo and a streak of right-wing cru­el­ty. Deployed to rur­al Iraq, the caged-ani­mal ener­gy of his Sergeant Chut­sky is in stark con­trast to Nicholas Hoult’s with­drawn fright as an army reservist. With a cheeky insou­ciance that can only come from hav­ing seen it all before, his dim­pled grin is as near-per­ma­nent a fix­ture in the desert land­scape as gun­fire and explo­sions – for him, war is fun.

Powell’s warm smile stays put even in the face of his co-pilot’s (Jonathan Majors) ini­tial stony reserve in Devo­tion (2022), based on the true sto­ry of Jesse Brown, the US Navy’s first Black avi­a­tor. As Lieu­tenant Tom Hud­ner, the actor bor­rows the bomber jack­et, sun­glass­es and cocky strut of his more well-known Top Gun: Mav­er­ick (2022) role, but – in con­trast to the unabashed opti­mistic Amer­i­cana of Joseph Kosinski’s film – the nature of war comes with some sober­ing, sad real­i­sa­tions, chip­ping at his poise. By the end, grief sits heavy on Hudner’s shoul­ders. He still cracks a smile, but Pow­ell doesn’t let it reach his eyes.

Pilot in cockpit of military aircraft, wearing black helmet with H-Net logo.

Con­trast that with Top Gun: Mav­er­ick, in which Jake Hang­man’ Seresin’s con­fi­dence is dialled up to arro­gant smug­ness; he’s an out­sized ego that stands out even in a sea of them. In his needling of Roost­er (Miles Teller), Hang­man employs the mea­sured, grat­ing tones of some­one who knows exact­ly where to twist the knife. He punc­tu­ates his sen­tences with smirk­ing nods for fur­ther obnox­ious­ness. In inter­views, even Pow­ell referred to Hang­man as dick gar­nish” and Navy Dra­co Mal­foy”. In the hands of a less­er actor, the lieu­tenant would be easy to hate, but exud­ing coolth and suave­ness, alter­nat­ing between good-natured rib­bing and real mal­ice, Pow­ell makes him an onscreen pres­ence com­pelling­ly easy to watch. When Mav­er­ick (Tom Cruise) pro­pos­es a par­tic­u­lar­ly insane manœu­vre and the cam­era pans to looks of dis­be­lief on the oth­er stu­dents’ faces, some­thing nov­el flick­ers across Hangman’s: pure rel­ish. And when he glides in to save the day when all hope seems lost, his cock­i­ness is entire­ly justified.

Part of anoth­er fran­chise in which old­er char­ac­ters rumi­nate on pass­ing on the baton to a younger gen­er­a­tion, Pow­ell is the pic­ture of con­fi­dence right from his Expend­ables 3 (2014) intro­duc­to­ry scene – scal­ing a cliff Tom Cruise Mis­sion Impos­si­ble-style, then one-upping him by paraglid­ing off it. Of course his char­ac­ter Thorn is also an expert drone pilot. And a skilled hack­er. His tooth­pick-chew­ing swag­ger ele­vates the oth­er­wise clichéd char­ac­ter­i­sa­tion and once again, it’s his calm know-how that saves the team. By the time Pow­ell reunites with Lin­klater on their third col­lab­o­ra­tion, Apol­lo 10 12: A Space Age Child­hood (2022), he’s exact­ly the assured, reli­able voice you need in your ear on a solo mis­sion to the moon. It’s his NASA offi­cial who must sell the movie’s ludi­crous premise – that the organ­i­sa­tion acci­den­tal­ly built the lunar mod­ule too small and must find a child to pilot it – but he does it with such unas­sail­able sass, it’s hard to argue.

One of Powell’s best roles sub­verts his unshake­able con­fi­dence by pre­sent­ing it as straight-up delu­sion. In the slash­er com­e­dy series Scream Queens, his ridicu­lous­ly named Chad Rad­well is a riff on the enti­tled frat boy. This time, his smile cap­tures a no thoughts head emp­ty’ bliss. He’s a him­bo, deliv­er­ing lines that clear­ly con­vey his stu­pid­i­ty with an exag­ger­at­ed con­vic­tion in his intel­li­gence. Powell’s comedic tim­ing is impec­ca­ble, whether he’s respond­ing to an insult­ing ques­tion about where he got his mom­my issues from with a straight-faced, earnest you know…probably my mom?” to his big plan to tack­le the ser­i­al killer on cam­pus – get roid­ed up” and roam around with a base­ball bat.

Powell’s con­fi­dent charis­ma is what makes him the ide­al roman­tic lead – think of him swoop­ing in like a knight in shin­ing armour to res­cue Syd­ney Sweeney’s damsel in dis­tress at a cof­fee shop in Any­one But You (2023), pre­tend­ing to be her hus­band with­out miss­ing a beat. This film and Set It Up (2018), how­ev­er, are Glen Pow­ell rom­coms that play with his con­fi­dence in smart ways, fram­ing vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty as a far more inter­est­ing trait.
Powell’s Ben is so self-assured in Any­one But You that the script has to write weak­ness­es into his char­ac­ter, like a fear of fly­ing, or being unable to swim. The film, how­ev­er, even­tu­al­ly reveals that all that cocky pos­tur­ing is a front – Ben’s snarky snip­ing at Bea (Sweeney) is a cov­er for his hurt at her leav­ing him. It’s only at the end that his con­fi­dence final­ly gives way to raw vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty, a cru­cial rom-com hero bit of char­ac­ter development.

As Char­lie Young in Set It Up, the actor plays against type as a brow­beat­en assis­tant, shrunk­en inwards by his tox­ic work­place. There’s a whiff of des­per­a­tion in how he approach­es his rela­tion­ship with his mod­el girl­friend (Joan Smalls) who already has one foot out the door. He’s only con­fi­dent when the pow­er dynam­ic is in his favour, tak­ing out his job frus­tra­tions by berat­ing an intern or glee­ful­ly snip­ing at anoth­er assis­tant. As he meets Harp­er Moore (Zoey Deutch) and becomes more care­free, snark grad­u­al­ly becomes ban­ter. And in the movie’s best scene – in which the two share a piz­za – he vis­i­bly gulps at the real­i­sa­tion that he might be falling in love, a reflex­ive­ly unguard­ed reac­tion before he slow­ly regains his composure.

It’s not that I need peo­ple to root for you, but I need them to love watch­ing you,” is what Cruise told Pow­ell about approach­ing Hang­man as they were prep­ping for Top Gun: Mav­er­ick. But it seems that the actor hard­ly need­ed the pep talk. Whether he’s lean­ing into his innate con­fi­dence – as in his next role as the charis­mat­ic storm-chas­ing stream­er Tyler Owens in Twisters – or gen­tly sub­vert­ing it onscreen, it’s safe to say that Pow­ell has long fig­ured out how to have his cake and sell it to you too.

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