Off Camera with Sam Jones

When you start acting - and very successfully - at eight, its easy to be jaded, obnoxious, or in rehab by the time you're say, 12. Elijah Wood ran the gauntlet of childhood fame unscathed (thanks, Mom), only to sign on at 18 to what no one, including Peter Jackson, knew would be one of the most massively successful cinema franchises ever. He could've gone a number of ways from there, the most obvious being spending the rest of his career trying to top The Lord of the Rings. But that's not really Wood's deal. He chooses interesting filmmakers over star-making roles, loves fulfilling his compulsion to get weird, wonderful stories out in the world, and calls Fantastic Fest his favorite week of the year. Artist? Explorer? Definitely. Calculating careerist? Not so much. "If I'd thought strategically, I might be in a different place, but I'm so happy being where I am." For someone with no strategy, he's one of the smartest guys we know.

Ricky Carmichael would like to be able to explain what made him The GOAT. The work - figuratively and often literally backbreaking - is a given. But how do you explain split-second instinct, something that you just do? You can't. So motocross fans and riders everywhere just sat back and watched in awe as he won race after race. It was, after all, what he was expected to do - and did do - from the age of six. He might've made it look easy, but it wasn't. Nor was it always happy. Carmichael talks about his motivation, the strategies he used to beat the best riders in the business, and his decision to retire from racing at 27 (not that there was much left for him to accomplish besides possibly paralyzing himself). Now, he's seeking his challenges on the other side of the handlebars and finding new joy in the sport that made him a legend.

If you'd happened to be skulking the seamier alleyways of Albuquerque around 2008, looking to bum a 3:00 a.m. cigarette - or perhaps a more powerful stimulant - you might've encountered a guy who looked a lot like Aaron Paul. He was looking to score an understanding of the role that changed his life. It was one he'd fought ten Ramen-fueled years for, and he was going to give it everything he had. Extreme research, maybe, but the connection he forges to each character he embodies is so deep, we not only believe them, but feel their every blow, doubt and happiness as our own. In acting parlance, it's called commitment. In Paul's case, love seems the better word. He cherishes and cares for his characters as friends, and embraces his job with the joy of someone who gets to prove time and again that he's really good at the only thing he's ever wanted to do. We talk about his road from small-town Idaho to sin-filled L.A., his fateful audition for Breaking Bad, and The Path almost not taken. And, why you probably don't want to mess with his mom.

Rachel Bloom remembers it all. The childhood neuroses, her first taste of humiliation at the hands of a stranger, the awkward locker room glances and every middle-school taunt. She also remembers how her talent and love of theater could erase so much of it. As they say, its all material. Material, as it turned out, for Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, one of the most original, subversive and strangely uplifting shows on network TV. Her rollercoaster journey there can be traced from a copy of The Martian Chronicles through stints as a singing/floating waitress and one hostile writers room. Bloom fills us in on her life-changing shift from musical theater to comedy, how structure informs creativity, and the show that for all its darkness, offers viewers an empowering, entertaining invitation to discuss our common, but not commonly discussed issues and insecurities. What motivates us to write the show is the pursuit of true inner happiness, which often defies not only stereotype, but what you think should make you happy. We might just break into song.

Fortunately, Greta Gerwig was never comfortable being the charming, likeable ingenue who exists (in Hollywood, anyway) to be adored and/or saved by a male lead. When she came to the realization that she probably couldn't sit by the pool and wait for the scripts to roll in, she decided she had the power to write them herself. Creating your own destiny can be a lot of work, but there's comfort in knowing the result will ring true not only to you, but also to the artists whose work you find most exciting. It's also the best way to use your own peculiarities and gifts, which in Gerwig's case include a rare lack of artifice, a writerly ear for dialogue, and a way of turning the standard story tropes a few degrees askew. As you'll gather from the following pages, she actually is quite charming and likeable. Just don't tell her you "liked" Hamlet.

It's hard to come by any better example of a true artist-and split personality-than Andrew Garfield. He came out of the womb as "a lunatic, a wild animal, a clown," who couldn't hang with rules, threatened to tear up our studio, and regularly butted heads with a father who wanted him to choose a "safe" career. He's also piled up acclaim for consistently soulful, vulnerable performances in a career full of uncannily successful projects. He admits to having both a Caligula-like ego, and an "inner accountant" who reminds him he'll never be enough. He loves a scene one day and is horrified by it the next. It makes you wonder how he's able to survive as an actor; and also how he could ever survive any other way. Garfield muses on working with directors as diverse as Scorsese, Gibson and Fincher, why he loves acting, and the role of storyteller in celebrity culture. You will never see Death of a Salesman or listen to "Vincent" the same way again.

When you grow up ping-ponging between three very different worlds on one very small island, you learn a lot about your place - or lack thereof - in life. Turns out you also learn a lot about acting. Not that Riz Ahmed ever assumed that was an option; despite the joy he found in school plays, he took a look at the entertainment cultural complex and just didn't see playing Taxi Driver Number Three as a feasible way to make a living. Then again, he didn't see much future as a desk jockey either, and over the last 10 years, he's built one of the most diverse and acclaimed artistic careers we've ever had the pleasure of digging into. He's come to realize that specific personal experience resonates across all borders, and why shouldn't it? As he points out, we're all mongrels in one way or another. We sit down with Riz to talk about how his culture informs his art, how life is likely to change after The Night Of and Star Wars, and how one night in a London club taught him that the place where you think you don't belong is exactly the place where you should be.

Michael Shannon is not here to entertain you or amaze you with the awesomeness of his performances (though that's usually what winds up happening). So why go into acting, let alone do ten films this calendar year? In the beginning, theater was a way to get a few things off his chest without being told to shut up. Even though he maintains that it's a mystery how anyone acts, time and experience have taught him why: Plain and simple, he's here to help somebody tell a story; and if that story can provide a fuller experience of life for him or his audience, all the better. To do that, "You have to be able to understand people that you otherwise wouldn't even attempt to understand." These days, maybe that's not bad advice for any of us. Shannon shares how the art he found to avoid pain turned into a career, and what he loves about it today. He still has a few things to get off his chest (like people who watch Hitchcock films on iPhones), so read on before you invite him to your next fish fry.

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be actors. At least not until they've had a nice chat with Mackenzie Davis. A late bloomer who was always "too loud, too tall and unable to figure out the secret potion of femininity" would seem a ready-made victim for an industry that tells aspiring actors they should be "grateful for whatever garbage role we give you, until you become famous." Instead, Davis has managed to become famous (and rather quickly) in roles that crush the Bechdel Test, and in the process, set an example for any artist who loves and values both herself and her work. It hasn't been a bump-free road, and as the Halt and Catch Fire star has barely left the starting gate, it's one she's still navigating. That's what makes it all the more interesting - and inspiring - to watch.

If you've watched Rob Lowe in St. Elmo's Fire, About Last Night, The West Wing and Parks and Recreation, you know he's got some acting chops. As it turns out, he's also a skilled writer with an intimate voice and a gift for setting a scene. Maybe that shouldn't have surprised me, coming from a guy who cites David Niven as his model memoirist. A raconteur without good stories is just a guy who talks a lot, but Rob's whole life is made of tales that you'll inhale like Häagen-Dazs - some with disbelief, some with laughter, and all with sympathy that might surprise you. He figures anyone can write about being on a hit show, so you might find it more interesting to hear what it's like to be on one that's going down the toilet. There's the one about the casting director who begged him not to give up on his lifelong dream of acting until his 18th birthday - the very day he was cast in Francis Ford Coppola's The Outsiders. Or the one about bumping Tiananmen Square off the front pages before entering rehab. But for going viral, you can't beat the one about a sober, loving dad who tries to contain his emotions as he sends his first son to college. But we'll let him tell you, because he is, after all, a storyteller - by profession and by nature. Rob always knew he was more than a pretty face, but too many times, his looks blinded the business to just how much more. Luckily, Lowe knows how to take a punch (who else calls his celebrity roast "the greatest night of my life"?) and go on working, creating and risking. And The Grinder is perfect proof that he should; if you haven't seen it go to Netflix and watch all 22 episodes now - you can send us a thank you note later. You won't want to miss a minute of this episode, unless your head is especially susceptible to exploding. If so, you might just want to mute the part about the dead guy strapped to the chair.