Marianne Jean-Baptiste is a hoot. From the moment the 57-year-old London-born actor arrives for her Vogue shoot, sheâs an electric presence, perusing the assembled rail of clothes with visible glee. She slips into a Sacai trench (âThis is wicked,â she says, exaggeratedly hunching her shoulder and pouting into the mirror) and then a fuzzy white Schiaparelli coat reminiscent of Tilda Swinton in The Chronicles of Narnia. (âAslan!â she shouts, arms aloft.)
Once in the make-up chair, she regales the crew with tales of drinking too much whisky and doing karaoke; she weighs in on the spring/summer 2025 shows (âI love Dries â heâs done lots of florals this season thoughâ); has a habit of randomly bursting into song and, later while being photographed, is in a fit of giggles again, bent double as the camera flashes.
I confess: it wasnât exactly what I expected after seeing her latest character, the raging, exasperated and somewhat ironically named Pansy, star of legendary director Mike Leighâs new heartbreaking and bitingly hilarious family drama, Hard Truths. It is almost 30 years since Jean-Baptiste and Leigh collaborated on a film â the cult 1996 comedy drama Secrets & Lies, which would see her become the first Black British actress nominated for an Oscar. (Juliette Binoche, who ended up scooping that prize, apparently told her she was robbed.)
âShe goes from strength to strength with every part she plays,â the now 81-year-old Leigh tells me over email. âHer imaginative acting, courage, dedication and great sense of humour â she should be celebrated for what she is: one of the great character actors of her generation.â
As Pansy, Jean-Baptiste is a cranky Londoner wreaking havoc at home and across the capital. Sheâs fuming at her hapless husband, her directionless son and her happy-go-lucky sister, not to mention every shop assistant, doctor, dentist and fellow driver she encounters. She rants about charity workers (âCheerful, grinning people!â), dogs she sees in the street (âWearing green booties!â) and a neighbourâs baby (âWhat does a baby need pockets for? Carrying a knife?â). She unwraps a bouquet with the disgust of someone undertaking a dissection. But beneath Pansyâs rage, often a source of that specific, bleak brand of Mike Leigh comedy, lies severe OCD, anxiety, depression and the grief of having recently lost her mother. âThe most important thing is that I didnât judge her â that I protected her. Miss Pansy, man, what a lady.â
Itâs a masterful, all-consuming performance that should secure Jean-Baptisteâs spot in the 2025 awards race. If she were to get another Oscar nod, almost three decades after her first, sheâd be only the fifth Black woman to receive multiple nominations, after Whoopi Goldberg, Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer and Angela Bassett.
âItâs really exciting,â Jean-Baptiste admits of all the buzz, when we meet several days earlier in the sunny Kingâs Cross offices sheâs currently using as a base. Sheâs more low-key today, dressed in a navy jumper, matching shirt and trousers, black brogues, gold hoops and circular, Edna Mode-style glasses, with chunky silver rings that glint in the light whenever she gestures to emphasise her point, and a dark copper crop. (âPeople would make my hair look like a newsreader â so I just shaved the sides off so they couldnât,â she says, grinning, of her slicked-back mullet.) But this long overdue recognition was not, of course, the reason she signed on to Hard Truths â it was simply because ânobody but Mike works like thatâ.
When the pair first discussed the project, over lunch in Los Angeles, where Jean-Baptiste has lived since 2002, there was, as is common with a Mike Leigh film, no initial plot or defined characters. âIt didnât take much convincing though,â she recalls. âI thought, âMy kids are grown up now. Itâll be an adventure.ââ
So she returned to London for three and a half months of rehearsals. To create Pansy, she was tasked with thinking about real people in her life, drawing out traits and details to construct someone entirely new. Then she had to work out every detail of that characterâs life: what their childhood was like, where they went to school, what their teacherâs name was, how they felt about their family. âThereâs no other job where you have as much agency as an actor, where it is as collaborative. Itâs a roller-coaster ride, man.â
On set, she and Leigh worked together to improvise all of Pansyâs dialogue. She helped curate what was in her cupboards (âThey brought this hot pepper sauce, and I was like, âNo, sheâd have Encona.ââ). She compiled lists of everything her character hates or is scared of. She even went out onto the streets of the capital in character, just to see it through Pansyâs eyes. âShe has all these intrusive thoughts,â Jean-Baptiste sighs. âIt was tiring at times, heavy and hard to switch off. I just had to go, âOh, shut up.ââ
Ultimately, this commitment is what makes Pansy feel so real and why, I expect, following the filmâs premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, so many audience members told the actor that she reminded them of their grandmothers, aunties, mother-in-laws or sister-in-laws. Jean-Baptiste cracks up at the memory. âI was like, âDude⦠thatâs very specific.ââ
Raised in Peckham in the â70s by an Antiguan carer mother and a St Lucian labourer father, Jean-Baptiste grew up running around their estate, riding bikes and playing rounders with her sister and two brothers. She loved performing too, doing various school theatre workshops until she landed a spot at RADA, where she studied while also working as an usher at the Empire cinema in Leicester Square. âI think it helped that I lived at home still and went back to reality every day, so I didnât get caught up in the drama of school as much.â
Then came a flurry of stagework, including her first encounter with Leigh, for his 1993 play Itâs a Great Big Shame!, before Secrets & Lies paved the way for her to work in the US. Since then, sheâs hopped between both sides of the pond, appearing in the likes of Broadchurch, The Murder of Stephen Lawrence, Prime Videoâs Homecoming, the A24 horror In Fabric and biblical drama The Book of Clarence, though sheâs best known for her SAG Award-nominated role as the steely special agent Vivian Johnson across seven seasons of CBSâs Without a Trace.
Jean-Baptiste isnât sure whatâs next, but sheâs got plenty on her plate: in LA, where she lives with her British former ballet dancer husband, Evan Williams, and two daughters â one now a director of photography and the other a dancer â she keeps a low profile, spending her days gardening, walking her dogs and making art in her studio in paint-splattered jumpsuits. If her friends, including Angela Bassett and Regina King, can get her out, sheâs also partial to a bit of salsa dancing. âMarianne is so full of irrepressible joy and creativity that Iâd be completely jealous if I werenât utterly in love with her as my sister and friend,â Bassett tells me. âWhen we spend time together we laugh, dance, break into song, eat, drink, cause a stir, travel and talk our heads off for hours and hours. As an actor, sheâs always honest, always full of surprises, always bold. Iâm beyond myself and filled with pride to see the recognition sheâs receiving.â
Over the years, sheâs âdodged many a red carpet â I kinda slip down the sideâ, but when she is photographed, youâre likely to see her in things that are âoriginal, funky, asymmetrical â Yohji Yamamoto, Marni, Issey Miyakeâ. Those public appearances used to make her âa bit nervousâ, and sheâs similarly apprehensive about being shot for Vogue. âItâs very cool, but Jesus⦠Iâm kinda like, âWow, really, me?ââ
Flash-forward to her photoshoot and sheâs clearly having the time of her life on set. Afterwards, as sheâs rushing away, she suddenly stops, turns back, kicks up one of her heels and flashes me that mischievous grin one last time. âDarling,â she purrs. âIâve just made my modelling debut.â
Hard Truths will be in cinemas from 31 January 2025. Cover look: Trench coat, Sacai. Tricolour gold and diamond earrings, Cartier. Hair: Alfie Sackett. Make-up: Laila Zakaria. Set design: Josh Stovell. Production: The Production Factory