The Killing Eve star tells Rebecca Nicholson about gut instincts, social media and why she’s a big softie at heart
The day after she won her Bafta, Jodie Comer watched Game of Thrones with her brother and had a burger for breakfast. Granted, it was the middle of the afternoon, but they’d had a big night. She had picked up the award, amid stiff competition, for leading actress, for playing the flamboyant and seductive psychopath Villanelle in Killing Eve. “As soon as they said my name, I pulled my really ugly crying face,” she says, pulling her best ugly crying face. “I felt like, oh God, I’m such a cliché! I had to pick my dress up because it was too long and I was going up the steps, crying.” She shakes her head, embarrassed. “Such a cliché. But I’ve always gone, oh my God, imagine. Imagine that happening. And then it does.”
I meet Comer two days later, the day after the day after, when breakfast has reverted to usual hours. We’re in a stuffy meeting room at her agency in London, because she’s been in meetings all day. There’s a Killing Eve launch tonight, then she’ll head back to Boston in the morning, to shoot Free Guy, a new action comedy with Ryan Reynolds. She’s only back in the UK briefly, and she’s had a lot to squash in.
“I am tired, but it’s self-inflicted,” Comer says, warmly. “I can’t complain that I’m being overworked.” She is bare-faced, in a neon lime lycra T-shirt, and wriggling like an eel. Her hair is loose and occasionally ends up in her mouth. When she really wants to make a point, she slumps forward, hands on the table, open and expansive, and looks at you with those huge, sincere eyes, lifting an eyebrow, fashioning her elastic face into a flash of Villanelle.
Tell me about the afterparty. “The first time I went to the Baftas, it was crazy,” she says. At an afterparty in 2017, she was introduced to Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who wrote and ran the first season of Killing Eve. This year ended up being a little tamer. “But I mean, I say this. Me, my dad, my brother and my mum were still up at 6am drinking champagne,” she laughs.
Comer is extremely close to her family. She grew up in Childwall, a suburb in the south of Liverpool, and her dad is a sports massage therapist for Everton FC. (Her brother Charlie works for Huddersfield FC as an analyst, “so my mum’s like, we’ve got to support both now, cos it’s Charlie’s work.”) She was bereft when they had to get the train back to Liverpool, though they did take her Bafta home with them for safekeeping. “I’ve got pictures on my phone,” she says, grinning, showing me photos of the award out in the wild, next to a bottle of champagne left over from the celebrations.
They have decided to call the Bafta “Billy”. “I don’t know why,” she says, pulling a goofy face. “My dad had it out on the train, and this woman went: ‘That’s not from Poundland, is it?’ This other woman said: ‘Is that the real thing?’ He said, ‘Yeah, do you want to touch it?’” She flicks through her camera roll, pictures of it in the pubs of Liverpool. “They took it on a pub crawl. They were so proud.” [ . . . ]
As Killing Eve’s Villanelle, she pulled off perhaps the most fascinating performance: a vicious sociopath so cheeky we couldn’t help but root for her.
A strange man sitting at the table next to — and apparently within smelling range — of Jodie Comer has just leaned a little farther in, his sense of smell activated by an odor wafting his way. “Excuse me,” he murmurs into her ear, unsure if he should. “What perfume are you wearing? Is it … it smells so familiar.”
Comer is delighted. “Oh, it’s a bit strong, innit? It’s Santal 33! I doused myself in it when I got ready,” she exclaims in a dense Liverpudlian accent. As they exchange some niceties about sandalwood and cedar and Le Labo, a feeling hovers just outside of my rational thought. Villanelle, the assassin Comer plays on Killing Eve, once used perfume as a fatal nerve agent. Watching this scene now unfold in real life, it’s not that I think, Will she assassinate him? But there is something about the exchange that feels lifted directly from the show’s script. [ . . . ]
Continue at THE CUT: Killing Eve’s Jodie Comer Is TV’s Most Captivating Assassin
Fans have dubbed it “possibly the sexiest screen kiss”
*Warning: spoilers ahead for Fleabag season two episode four*
Fleabag‘s sinfully good second season has centred on our eponymous anti-heroine’s lustful, forbidden feelings for The Priest (played by Sherlock’s Andrew Scott) — and his apparently reciprocal feelings for her.
After almost four episodes of sexually-charged verbal sparring and will-they-won’t-they, we finally saw the pair get it on — right outside a church confessional, no less, with Fleabag struggling to remove The Priest’s vestments (“Is this a skirt andtrousers?”).
However, Scott’s character freaked out at the last minute after a painting fell down inside the church, in a nod to the series opener (after Fleabag confirmed she was an atheist in episode one, a picture fell down with The Priest smugly referring to it as a sign from God).
In the end, both Fleabag and viewers were left hanging.
After the kiss, viewers immediately took to social media to, well, freak out. “I need a lie down,” Derry Girls creator Lisa McGee posted on Twitter. [ . . . ]
Continue at RADIO TIMES: Fleabag episode 4: Viewers ‘need a lie down’ after THAT kiss – Radio Times