‘Tell you what I did last night, I came home, say around a quarter to three…’ Eyes locked on the camera ina sultry gaze, Ncuti Gatwa is lip-syncing to Tweet and Missy Elliott. Knowing grin, oscillating hips, torso gleaming in a Daniel W Fletcher corset: Gatwa is in his element. He feels good, he’s having fun.
‘There’s something about being in a corset that makes me feel so masculine,’ says Gatwa after his cover shoot. It’s London Pride, and outside the studio the streets are full of revellers who are equally well-dressed in delightfully subversive outfits. ‘Clothes are to play with,’ he says. ‘I love seeing men in “women’s” clothing. There doesn’t need to be a label. I believe that fully: that’s why I don’t like to label myself – and I don’t owe it to anyone.’
We’re talking about clothes, but we’re also not talking about clothes. Success and celebrity often lead to speculation about the private lives of public figures. In the past few years, Gatwa has been propelled from breakout actor to star of some of the most era-defining films and television series. That might sound hyperbolic, but he’s appearing in blockbusters (Barbie), British institutions (Doctor Who) and shows that have captured the cultural zeitgeist (Sex Education). He’s also been embraced by the fashion industry, not least Tiffany & Co, for which he starred in an advertising campaign for its Tiffany Lock collection. Though he has never publicly disclosed his sexuality, many have drawn assumptions from his portrayal of Sex Education’s beloved Eric.
At times, Gatwa’s casting in those projects has been dismissed as an exercise in ‘box-ticking’. Gatwa scoffs. ‘First of all, you don’t know anything about me. Secondly, tick f*cking boxes! People need to be f*cking seen. What are you going to do, tell the same stories? Have the same people fronting things for all of eternity? Representation and inclusivity and branching out… it enriches us all. How embarrassing. You people with your tiny mindsets – open a book, look out the window and then f*ck off.’ There’s something stirring about witnessing Gatwa angry – and not just angry. In some ways, it’s unexpected. Like many of the characters he’s played, Gatwa is a joyful presence. Dancing and cackling through the shoot, on set he exudes confidence. Although, ‘that’s on the outside’.
He explains. ‘Inside it’s such a mess: I have so much impostor syndrome. I have so many insecurities. I like to make other people feel happy so there’s less focus on me. I become this loud figure that’s cracking jokes all the time. It comes across as confidence, but at the heart of it, it’s not. Real confidence is something I have to work on daily.’
Taking part in Barbie, this summer’s box-office record-breaking blockbuster, was a masterclass in overcoming anxiety. ‘I was so nervous I hardly spoke for the first month [on set],’ he remembers. ‘There was a time when I was talking to Greta and I turned around and Ryan Gosling was looking at me, and his eyes were so blue that I just… fell over. I just drowned in his eyes.’
Fortunately, over time, Gatwa’s on-set experience became defined less by fear and more by fun. It was the first female-led screen production he had appeared in, and, ‘I noticed that it was also the most kind, empathetic set I’ve ever been on.’ There were the infamous sleepovers and movie nights, and one evening Margot Robbie organised a party bus to take the cast to see Magic Mike. ‘We played So Solid Crew and all these old-school garage tunes, then we got to Magic Mike and all screamed our faces off at the incredible dancers. Then we all went to [London nightclub] The Box… The group chat the next day was lit.’
In September, the fourth and final season of Sex Education will air; the pioneering series launched Gatwa’s career. Lauded for its refreshingly frank take on sex and the diversity of its cast, the show quickly became an overnight hit, with Gatwa’s character Eric an instant fan favourite. ‘Shout out to [screenwriter] Laurie Nunn for giving nuance to this gay, Black character and gifting him to the world,’ he says. ‘He’s so fierce and unashamed. It was healing for me, and great for people to see themselves represented. It taught me the importance of representation: it’s so powerful and necessary.’
The ending is bittersweet. After playing a teenager for five years, Gatwa is ready to graduate, but the show had a profound effect on him. ‘It undid a lot of the internal- ised hate I had. I’ve experienced racism my whole life, and while I always believed in myself, always knew [racists] were stupid and uneducated, I guess it did misinform my view of how the world works. It makes you think everyone has that opinion and you’ll constantly have to fight through life – then you learn that you don’t: you can find a tribe, you can find your people.’
Evening sunlight filters through the windows as Gatwa gets ready to leave. He’s meeting friends for dinner before seeing ‘where the Pride winds take us’. Reminiscing about previous events, he shares a moment from a few years back. ‘I remember being at Manchester Pride, going through the streets with all my boys, shaking my cha-chas, living it up, when I saw this woman who looked exactly like my auntie. She wasn’t – but I knew she was Rwandan,’ he says. Gatwa himself was born in Kigali, Rwanda, in 1992. His family fled the Rwandan genocide against the Tutsi population two years later and settled in Scotland. (He graduated from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland in Glasgow with a degree in acting.) He got talking to the woman and asked her why she was at Pride. ‘It just blew my mind that she was there,’ he says.
Up until this point, Gatwa has been telling the story with comedic delivery, but he grows thoughtful. ‘I can feel myself getting emotional just thinking about it,’ he says quietly. ‘We were holding hands, and she said to me, “I don’t really know why I’m here. I’m just here.” I told her, “Honey, you don’t need to know. You absolutely. Do not. Need. To. Know. You’re here. Be proud of who you are.” I had never met another queer Rwandan person before,’ he says. ‘I thought I was the only one in the world.’
For a while, neither of us speak. In the silence, I’m struck by the power of his journey. He may not have all the answers – perhaps that’s why this anecdote is so important to him – but, both as an actor and a human, he shows up with vulnerability, passion and pride by the bucketload. It’s in his anger and his joy, the loud moments and the quiet: he reminds you of all the messy contradictions, and what it means to be human.
This shoot and interview were conducted before the SAG-AFTRA strikes began.
This interview appears in the October ELLE UK issue.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY PETROS; STYLED BY JENNY KENNEDY; WORDS BY SHANNON MAHANTY
