FACES IN FOCUS: TANYA REYNOLDS

TANYA REYNOLDS ONLY NEEDS A SINGLE SCENE TO ENRAPTURE HER AUDIENCE.

By Morgan Becker

Just before Tanya Reynolds won the role of Sex Education’s resident alien erotica buff, she was running out of money, freshly dumped, and feeling “kind of desperate.” Lily Inglehart offered a new lease on life, lending the Hertfordshire-raised actor fan-favorite status, and the footing to nab a few more compelling roles. When we talked, she was on her second run of A Mirror, Sam Holcroft’s Pirandellian wedding drama; in Jenji Cohen’s The Decameron—loosely based on the anthology by Giovanni Boccaccio, set to hit screens this year—Tanya plays servant Licisca, heading to an Italian villa to serve nobles waiting out the Black Plague.

Big roles aside, Tanya is the sort of performer you simply cannot look away from, whether she appears for three minutes or over the course of three seasons. A self-described perfectionist, she’s got the charm and the process of an old-school great: “I think about the world and the life of the character. Who am I? Where am I coming from? What am I bringing with me?”

MORGAN BECKER: Were there certain shows you used to watch as a kid, or actors you really loved?

TANYA REYNOLDS: I grew up watching a lot of telly. I watched films that, probably, I was too young to watch, like The Terminator. I was really interested in Gene Wilder as a kid. I kind of had the hots for Gene.

MB: Did you have any standout roles in your school play days?

TR: We did Alice in Wonderland, and when I was little, I always wanted to be the main part. I wanted to act and, obviously, that’s just the way you’d think: I want to say the most words. I want to get onstage for the most time. I did not get Alice—I got the Dodo. I did this weird little Dodo walk where I kind of stuck my butt out, and I wore a little bowler hat and I painted myself green. When we did Grease, I really wanted Rizzo. But I got Miss Lynch, the head teacher. Still gave it some welly!

MB: Lily Inglehart isn’t a main character, either—but she’s so beloved, she’s become a heroine in her own right. What do you think the benefits are of taking a supporting role and making it your own?

TR: Oh, god! Well, I mean, at the end of the day, it’s all about how well-written a character is. For me, it’s never about the size of the role, it’s about how interesting that role is. Lily was someone who I was deeply, deeply interested in because she was so fascinating and complicated and exciting. She was rich. There was so much to her. Parts like that are really rare.

MB: What sorts of qualities do you look for in a character?

TR: At the moment, I’m on the West End in A Mirror, and my character Mei—I mean, she is delicious. There are so many layers to her. I’ve done this play I don’t know how many times, and every night there is more to find. And I think that’s what you’re looking for: You’re looking for detail because no human being is two-dimensional.

I keep waiting to be bored, but I’m just not. It’s an onion of a play. And the cast is so strong—absolute pros. I feel so held by them: Jonny Lee Miller and Sam [Holcroft] and Geoff [Streatfeild] and the whole team. It feels like we’ve all got each other, and you can go out there and try something you’ve never done, and no one will flinch. They will just take your offer.

MB: Do you have a preference between the stage and the screen?

TR: There is a part of me—and I think every actor may feel the same—that feels a bit more at home in the theater. Because so often you start there. I love the whole process: being in a rehearsal room for four weeks before you actually put the thing in front of people.

Onscreen, there’s very rarely any time. Often, you’re presenting a first draft. It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, because usually your first instincts are the right instincts. I love all mediums for different reasons. I did a screen job last year which was six months in Italy for a show called The Decameron. And that was the most joyful six months I think I’ve ever had on a job. I loved every second of it until I broke my foot. Every actor, I think, just wants to jump between the three; the perfect year would be to do a play, then telly, then film.

MB: Did you break your foot on the job?

TR: No, I broke it really depressingly. I was just walking down some stairs and I missed a step and I cracked my foot. It was chaos. I had to have a walking double!

MB: What’s your role in The Decameron like?

TR: I play Licisca, maidservant to Philomena and her whole family. But the [rest of] the family has died of the plague. She just has Philomena, who treats her like shit. Licisca gets to a point where she can’t take getting treated like a dog anymore. She makes a decision in the heat of the moment which informs the rest of their story.

She’s been such a gift to play, because there’s just so much meat on the bone for that character. Sometimes you really root for her and sometimes she’s kind of a villain. I don’t know how audiences are gonna take her. I hope that they love her and understand her point of view. But I can also see how she might rub people the wrong way. She’s out for herself a lot, because she’s spent life being treated so badly. She’s now at this point that’s just like, Fuck it. I’m gonna look after myself. YOLO. If people are still saying that?

MB: Do you ever watch your performances back?

TR: I did when I first started acting, but I just cannot bear it. I am truly, truly my own worst critic. I mean, I hope—I’m sure there is someone out there who would be even harsher than I am. It’s got to a point now where I try to avoid it. I do the job as best as I can. I put everything into it. And then, when I leave, I just try and think, What happens in the edit doesn’t concern me, because I’ve done my bit. I’ve put my energy into it.