Jonathan Rhys Meyers on Art, Fire, and His Neo-Noir Turn in American Night

 

Jonathan Rhys Meyers on Art, Fire, and His Neo-Noir Turn in American Night

When Jonathan Rhys Meyers picks up the phone, there’s no need for introductions. His voice—instantly familiar to anyone who’s followed his career from Bend It Like Beckham to The Tudors—carries the gravity of someone who’s seen a lot, survived more, and still finds meaning in the work. In his latest role, Meyers stars in American Night, an art heist thriller about a New York mob boss and an art dealer whose lives collide after the theft of Andy Warhol’s Pink Marilyn.

But the subject of art hits close to home in more ways than one.

“I was an art collector,” Meyers says. “Unfortunately, I was a victim of the Los Angeles fires, and I lost all of my art in my home.” The only thing that survived was a small red toy car that belonged to his young son, Wolf. “Everything else was burned to a crisp.”

He doesn’t linger in sadness. “Such is life,” he says. “We must endeavor to push forward.”

In a strange way, that loss mirrors the thematic core of American Night—a film saturated in pop colors, noir tones, and questions of value: what’s worth saving, and what gets sacrificed in the pursuit of meaning or money.

A Dealer, a Mobster, and a Stolen Warhol

In American Night, Meyers plays John Kaplan, a conflicted New York art dealer with a troubled past and a tenuous grip on his present. When Warhol’s Pink Marilyn vanishes, Kaplan finds himself pulled into a dangerous collision with a ruthless mob boss (Emile Hirsch), where violence and obsession swirl around the missing painting.

“Kaplan’s always on uneven ground,” Meyers says. “He’s trying to do right by his gallery, by the woman he loves, by himself—but his past keeps pulling him off balance.”

The film, directed by Alessio Della Valle, blends stylized violence with meditations on art, image, and authenticity. It’s noir, but it’s also pop art opera—equal parts grit and gloss.

“There’s nothing more dangerous,” Meyers adds, “than a wealthy man with delusions of artistic genius. That’s pure danger.”

A Taste for Art and a Love of the Craft

Despite the loss of his collection, Meyers still speaks of art with reverence. “I love all forms of art,” he says. “To really be a collector now, you need a pretty magnificent purse. But I’ll always be a fan. I’m a sucker for great work.”

That appreciation filters into his performance. Kaplan isn’t a man on a mission—he’s a man unraveling, navigating a world where art isn’t just [a] commodity, it’s currency and threat.

Talent, the “It Factor,” and the Steve McQueen Standard

Meyers, by any fair assessment, possesses that rare, intangible quality often described as the “it” factor—the kind that resists definition but is instantly recognizable.

When asked what gives an actor that kind of presence, he doesn’t mention fame or looks. Instead, he points to Steve McQueen.

“How do you explain Steve McQueen?” he asks. “He’s not classically handsome. Not tall. Not Shakespearean. But you couldn’t look away.”

It’s what he calls “the unspoken thing.” The industry may label it the “it factor,” but for Meyers, it’s less about charisma and more about truth. “Talent is probably the most liberal thing on the planet,” he says. “It doesn’t care about where you come from. It just lands where it lands.”

That philosophy has guided his own career, from breakout roles in early dramas to defining turns in historical and psychological thrillers.

Avoiding Politics, Protecting What Matters

Though some actors have leaned into political commentary in recent years, Meyers chooses not to.

“If I wanted to speak about world events, I wouldn’t have become an actor,” he says. “I’d have become a world leader.”

His only exception? “My son. He’s an American boy. If it ever affected him, I’d speak. Until then, I stay in my lane. I act. I tell stories.”

He acknowledges the industry’s political minefields—from tariffs on international films to cultural gatekeeping—but remains focused on the work. “Words are words,” he says. “Faith without works is nothing. Let’s see what people do.”

The Roles Still Calling

Asked about dream roles, Meyers doesn’t name a superhero. He names Sidney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities.

“It’s an incredible role,” he says. “Two characters—physically identical, morally different. One’s a brilliant lawyer. The other’s an aristocrat. And in the end, one sacrifices himself so the other can live.”

The story has stayed with him since childhood. “It’s tragic. Romantic. Complex. I’d love to tell that story.”

Looking Ahead

Meyers has two films in post-production. In It’s Okay, Go Back to Sleep, he plays a neuroscientist testing brain implants on himself, with consequences that blur the line between research and delusion. In The Eyes and the Trees, he stars opposite Anthony Hopkins as a documentarian who arrives on a remote island in search of a reclusive doctor.

“I haven’t seen the final cuts yet,” he says. “We’ll see how they go.”

He’s been turning down more scripts than he accepts lately. “Sometimes,” he says, “the most powerful thing you can do is say no.”

He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.