Brett Goldstein F@$king Loves This!

The moment that Brett Goldstein is on the verge of saying something remotely earnest, he starts gagging ­­— be it for my amusement or to suppress the impulse. In truth, it’s probably a bit of both, but every time the conversation turns to a lesson learned, a compliment received or, God forbid, the craft, the 44-year-old looks physically sick. “People talking about their process is disgusting,” says the native Brit turned reluctant Angeleno. “Just shut up and do the work.”

Goldstein may be taking his own advice too seriously. Since breaking big as the endearingly gruff Roy Kent on Ted Lasso, a role that won him two consecutive Emmys, the actor-writer-comic has yet to press pause. There’s both a seemingly eternal stand-up tour and weekly podcast Films to Be Buried With, along with being introduced as Hercules in Marvel’s Thor: Love and Thunder and playing the lead opposite Jennifer Lopez in the upcoming Netflix rom-com Office Romance. Goldstein also wrote and starred in the near-futuristic romance All of You, which premiered at the Toronto Film Festival, and when Shrinking, the Apple TV+ therapist comedy he created with Jason Segel and Ted Lasso boss Bill Lawrence, returns Oct. 16, he’ll be in that, too. In fact, he’s been cast in a surprisingly dark role opposite Segel and Harrison Ford. During a recent evening on the Warner Bros. lot, after a day in the not-quite-officially-ordered season three writers room for Shrinking, Goldstein attempted to diagnose his work ethic while dodging Ted Lasso season four speculation and offering his rationale for why he believes most comics aren’t “dickheads.”

By any standard, you seem to have a perennially full plate. Do you think about dropping anything?

I’ve always been like this, working on 12 things at once. But it was many, many years before anyone saw anything I worked on. There’s a window here, and I don’t know how long that window stays open. I might as well make the most of it before it closes. I also fucking truly love it. So it’s like, why wouldn’t I do it all — other than to maybe get some sleep and have an emotional life? I can say this as a joke and also really mean it: One of the great things about being a workaholic is that you don’t have time to stop and be sad.

I’d argue your window seems safely open for the immediate future. Don’t you feel like you have some career security?

I don’t think I’ve met anyone who feels security in this business. Have you?

Some narcissists.

Oh yeah, the bad people, of course! But everyone else… I’ve met actors who’ve worked nonstop for 40 years and they’re still like, “Every time I’m finished with a project I think, damn, that was my last job.” That doesn’t go away. But I did Sesame Street. If it ends tomorrow, if the window closes, I’m good. “You did Sesame Street, now go live by the sea.”

Has Shrinking changed your relationship with your own therapist? 

I don’t think so? I don’t think she even watches. We play around with this on the show, but I do think there should be boundaries. I’ve been with my therapist for a long time, and as time has gone on, I know more about her life. But it’s tricky. … The more you know about them, the more you worry about them. And that’s probably not the best use of your time. It’s such a weird relationship, isn’t it? Fuck knows what she really thinks of me. She might think I’m awful. 

There’s an emerging trend of you writing your way onto shows where you weren’t originally part of the cast. Tell me about that. 

Bill had been trying to get me to at least do a cameo, something funny. Then we’d written this character for season two, and we were about to cast it when Jason brought me and Bill into his trailer and said, “Why isn’t Brett doing this part?”

It’s not a funny part and probably not what people might expect.

No. Bill was like, “I don’t see it.” But he called me the next morning and said something very sincere. Fuck. He said, “I think you’re a real artist, and if you think you can do this, I will support you.” It was scary, but fuck it, let’s give it a go. Anything scary, you should probably be doing. 

What’s the scary part for you — the doing it or the waiting to see how it’s received? 

The bit where you hand over the stuff is really scary. You love these things and you want to protect them, but you never know. I learned that from fucking Ted Lasso. We genuinely didn’t think anyone would watch, let alone have it get that reaction. 

Yes, but that show was an anomaly.

I don’t think there’s any lesson in it, either. It was a miracle. You can’t really copy it. I am sure they’re now trying to replicate Baby Reindeer. (Sighs.) Everything that breaks through is an original idea. It’s never the thing that’s a copy of the thing. 

I have to ask you about Ted Lasso, which recently picked up your option for a fourth season. 

I’m sure you do. I don’t know anything. I heard about it in the press. 

You did not.

No, I heard about it because I got a phone call from my team saying it had been picked up. (Laughs.) See! What are we fucking doing? I feel sorry for you — I feel sorry for me — that we have to do this. But in this case, I genuinely know nothing. There will be a plan put into action soon, but so far the plan is not in action. 

The narrative around the show was always incredibly positive. Then, in season three, there were delays, talk of going over budget and, ultimately, decidedly mixed reviews. How did you digest that period?

It’s a difficult question because I don’t take time to reflect and have feelings. (Laughs.) How do I feel about it? We were following a vision, and there are things that I really admire about Jason Sudeikis and sticking to the vision. We were aware of the internet and what people enjoyed and wanted. But we had to ignore all of this and stick to the vision — for good and bad, regardless of outcome. That’s a pretty impressive and unusual quality, certainly in a populist arena. It was received mixed-ly, but that’s the risk of taking the art route.

What’s the script that you haven’t been able to sell? 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but most scripts are fucking dog shit. And because people want me to be in something or help them make something, I get a lot of them. It’s shocking, statistically, how many are depressingly bad. But these two guys, Nate Smith and Jim Santangeli, sent me this pilot that was just, like, fuck. Here’s where I am frustrated with this business: it would’ve been a fucking slam dunk, but it didn’t go. I was shocked. But the industry’s in trouble, and they’re scared.

Are people in your circles having any better luck selling than earlier in the year? 

No, I think it’s just Bill Lawrence selling. (Laughs). Even in Toronto, I think only one film sold within two weeks.

You’ve been on a stand-up tour for a while. When was the last time you bombed?

Last week I played Red Rocks. It was incredible. Thousands of people. Amazing. A few days before that, I did a drop-in at The Improv. A load of film execs came, and I died on my ass. You just think, “Why did they have to see this?” 

Did you invite them?

I would’ve never! I didn’t know they were coming. They were like, “Hey, we’ve popped in to see you.” Fuck’s sake! But that’s standard: King of the world for a day and then immediately fucking embarrassed. I think that’s why stand-ups generally aren’t dickheads. It’s difficult to be arrogant and constantly humbled. 

What doors do you feel are still closed to you?

David Lynch’s house.

Well, that isn’t your fault. He’s immunocompromised.

That is the problem. But David Lynch is No. 1 on the list of people I still want on my podcast. Most of my friends are on their fourth round, but there are a few white whales left — Martin Scorsese, Sofia Coppola, Spike Lee, the legends.

Speaking of legends, you work with Harrison Ford. Do you have any good stories of him on set?

He’s a naughty boy. He’s cheeky. This season, there’s a scene by a lake between him and Jason — and when we were shooting it, he was really excited to push Jason in. He kept bringing it up. “You can’t, Harrison, for a number of reasons. He’ll get ill and we don’t have a change of clothes. You’ll ruin the shoot.” We had to convince him not to do it. He loves to fuck around. And at no point do you get used to the fact that you’re working with him. 

Your podcast is called Films to Be Buried With. What’s that last film you saw that you truly loved?

I watched My Old Ass last night. Made me cry. It’s a perfect example of all the things that I love in the making of a thing, because it is so clearly made with love. I was always taught, as a writer, to love all your characters — and [writer-director Megan Park] does that beautifully. It’s funny and so specific and completely relatable. Like, I’m that girl. (Laughs.) I get everything that’s going on.

This is not a criticism, but I am curious if anyone on a job ever asked you to say “fuck” less often.

I’ve been writing something. And the more I work on it, the more I think there’s a way of doing it that could work for adults and younger people. That means taking out the swears. I’m really trying, but the problem is … it’s better with the swearing. But Ted Lasso worked for families, and there’s swearing in it. The kids are all fucked up anyways. This is the least of their worries. 

This story appeared in the Oct. 9 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.