When does ambition become obsession, and at what point does the pursuit of success begin to fundamentally alter who we are? In A24’s psychological crime thriller Primetime, Robert Pattinson portrays television journalist Chris Hansen, whose involvement in NBC’s controversial To Catch a Predator series transformed him into an unlikely cultural phenomenon. Set against the sensationalised media landscape of 2006, the film explores the increasingly blurred boundaries between journalism, entertainment and public humiliation, as the pursuit of justice becomes inseparable from the demands of television ratings.
For Pattinson, however, Hansen’s story isn’t necessarily one of calculated ambition or moral corruption, but something altogether more vulnerable: a man whose desire to succeed and be considered a hero gradually forces him to become someone he never intended to be. Speaking with our Peter Gray for the second time this year in a one-on-one conversation, the actor reflected on the complicated relationship between performance and identity, the unexpected consequences of success, and why the desperate need to remain relevant can ultimately become its own form of imprisonment.
I wanted to ask about when performance becomes identity. Because what interests me about Chris is that he’s a journalist, but he’s also becoming a television character without almost realising it. As an actor, you’re usually conscious of when you’re performing and when you’re yourself. Do you think Chris still recognises that distinction? Or has he reached a point where he genuinely believes he’s the character he’s created?
It’s kind of why I found the story interesting, because I think what’s a fascinating thing to me about journalists on TV, because if you ever hear about when a network picks the person who’s a news anchor, you have to have a background in journalism, but it’s not really why you’re getting the job. It’s how good you are on camera. That’s why you have the job. You’re a TV presenter. But, at the same time, you have to convince the audience that you’re not just a TV presenter. You’re something completely different.
With Chris Hansen, it’s like you’re an improviser. It’s undeniably a performance, and you can see that with his timing and everything. But the interesting thing about it is that you can never admit it. It’s fascinating. It’s a great thing to play when you’re constantly in denial (with) reality. You can unpick that, and there’s a million interesting ways to play it. That was a really good question. That’s a terrible answer (laughs).
No, not at all. It brings me to my next question about that addiction to being necessary. One of the things about Chris is that he’s built this identity around being the person who exposes other people’s secrets. I wonder if underneath all that confidence, there’s a fear of himself becoming irrelevant. Did you approach his ambition as someone who desperately wants to be successful? Or someone who’s terrified of no longer being necessary?
I mean, the way I approached it was through how the show was received almost immediately. If you’re working in television, all you’re really looking for is a hit. So suddenly it’s like, “Oh my God, I’ve won the lottery!” But the consequences of that success, and the speed at which they arrive, are extraordinary.
That was something that really interested me about making the movie, and it’s interesting how people have received it, including him. There’s this sense that the film is somehow an indictment of him, but he doesn’t actually do anything bad in the movie. His intention was simply to make a hit television show, and then, as soon as he achieves that, the rules suddenly change.
It’s like you’re playing soccer and you score a goal, but suddenly you’re playing basketball, and everyone’s saying, “You cheated! You kicked the ball!” And you’re thinking, “What?” But you still want to hold on to that win, so now you have to convince everyone that you’re a basketball player, and you have to do it in real time. Again, probably the worst analogy, but that’s kind of what it feels like.
What I was always trying to play was this sense of naivety and vulnerability. Even when he’s waking up his kids (for them to watch the show with him), I think you could interpret that as a bad thing, but to me, it’s coming purely from a place of excitement. He’s so proud of what he’s accomplished, and he wants to celebrate it with somebody. He’s in trouble with his wife, and he knows he can’t wake her up because that’s going to be a much more nuanced situation. But he still needs someone to share that moment with.
I always saw him as someone who desperately wants to be a hero, and I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with that. But his reality is one where people are constantly questioning him, challenging him and creating hurdles that prevent him from being that hero. And the more that happens, the more you’re almost forced into becoming monomaniacal, just through circumstance. It’s not necessarily that you want to become this person who believes, “I have a calling. I have to do this thing.” It’s more that everyone keeps trying to take it away from you.
His original calling was simply to have a hit television show. But once he achieves that, he suddenly has to change his entire identity to hold on to it.
He’s a fascinating person, and it’s a fascinating performance, so congratulations again on an incredible year!
Thank you so much, nice to meet you.
Primetime is screening in Australian theatres from October 29th, 2026.
