In 2020, you became famous on Instagram for your comedic impressions of people, things, and concepts, such as banana bread’s publicist and dirty dishes. Now you’re starring on your friend Rachel Sennott’s HBO series, I Love LA. You also had a breakout film at Cannes, Club Kid, which you wrote, directed, and starred in; it ignited a $17 million bidding war that was ultimately won by A24. When did you first start performing?
There are pictures of me dressed up as Kramer from Seinfeld when I was 4. I was very famous in my household for doing a Kramer impression. In adulthood, it shifted to comedy, writing, and filmmaking. I made my first short film when I was 21. I was writing in TV writers rooms—Search Party, Big Mouth—from 24 to 28. Then I started doing videos on the Internet. Those took off, and that took me more into acting. In this industry, until you get to a place where they let you do what you want, you have to go where the wind is blowing you.
In Club Kid, your character, Peter, has a threesome with two strangers, including a woman, while blacked out. Ten years later, his son arrives on his doorstep after his mother dies, and Peter is suddenly tasked with taking care of him. What was the inspiration for that story?
The first kernel was probably talking about doing G and fucking in a dark room. I was like, What would my life look like if there was a kid here? Becoming a parent is just the most obvious, universal way that people grow up.
The film has been described as a “gay Big Daddy,” the 1999 Adam Sandler comedy in which a New York City man-child has to grow up in order to take care of an actual child. Which filmmakers influenced Club Kid?
In my early 20s, I was randomly only friends with 40- to 50-year-old gay men, and they introduced me to so many films from the ’70s—earthy, human comedies with a beating heart and soul. All of my humor comes from introspection, pain, or sensitivity. So Paul Mazursky, Mike Nichols, Albert Brooks—these soulful Jewish men trying to find their place in the world and figure out what life means to them through a comedic lens.
While filming the movie, you also became a biological dad—an “uncle dad”—to the child of your sister and her wife.
It was coincidental. I had written the first draft, and then my sister asked for my sperm [for her wife]. Total no-brainer. The baby was born on my last day of production. Very emotional, very hard to process. But—I’m an uncle, let’s be clear. I’m not doing any fatherly duties. I smile on FaceTime and send her gifts. My sister and her wife are so happy.
You’ve talked about feeling misunderstood, and you poke fun at your persona in projects like I Love LA and Rotting in the Sun. In Club Kid, Peter is much more layered. Do you hope the film will change how people see you?
I’ve always been a polarizing figure. This self-exploration via characters that are worse versions of myself is a defense mechanism to get ahead of that. This feels more honest to who I am, and so it feels more vulnerable.
People will inevitably frame Club Kid as a queer film—do you see it as part of the queer canon?
It’s more of a party movie, a drug movie, and a father-son movie. Kramer vs. Kramer with a queer twist. The gay people will understand it the best; it’s for them. But there were also 60-year-old women crying to me. It’s nice to me that straight people are watching it and finding themselves in it too.
You cast actual club kids and your friends from the New York scene, like Saturn Risin9 and Alaska Riley. Why?
They’re such unique, iconic people. The way they look, the way they talk, the slang, the language—no actors could bring that same sauce. I made sure our straight crew went out to [the Queens club] Basement to really see the gag of it all. When you’re invited into that world, you’re like, “Oh, wow, this is a completely different universe that most people don’t know exists.”
What’s next?
This moment I had at Cannes was an amalgamation of 15 years of work. You can have the internal compass and the internal confidence, but if people aren’t really saying, “Yes, queen,” there’s still a part of you that’s like, Am I? So seeing the audience response was like, Okay, I can do this. I'm not trying to make my next thing a huge action movie or go to Marvel or whatever. Human stories will always be my sweet spot, wherever that takes me. I just want to get better, learn more about myself, and keep making movies.
Grooming by Anna Bernabe for May Lindstrom Skin at Kalpana; Producer: Sissi W; On-Set Producer: Nikita Shuvaev; Photo Assistant: Kenny Castro; Retouching: Mao Wubin at SHELTER productions.