"I don't really approach a character as to whether or not it's good or bad. I just approach a character as to where it lives in me"
About this Quote
Quinto’s line is a neat rejection of the audience’s favorite lazy sorting system: the moral tier list. For an actor known for playing characters who arrive pre-labeled as “cold,” “villainous,” or “dangerous” (Sylar, Spock’s flinty logic, assorted antagonists), the move is strategic. He’s not asking for absolution for bad behavior on screen; he’s explaining the craft trick that makes it believable. If you start from “good” or “bad,” you perform a verdict. If you start from “where it lives in me,” you perform a motive.
The subtext is both intimate and slightly unsettling: the actor’s job is to locate an internal address for someone else’s choices, including the ones we’d rather outsource to monsters. “Lives in me” implies permanence, not a temporary costume. It suggests character isn’t an external mask but a mapped region of temperament, fear, desire, or wounded pride that the performer can visit. That’s how you get specificity without melodrama: not “I’m evil,” but “I’m protecting something,” “I’m starving for control,” “I’m terrified of being ordinary.”
Contextually, it lands in a post-antihero culture where viewers are trained to crave psychological receipts. Quinto’s phrasing aligns with that demand while quietly insisting on boundaries: understanding isn’t endorsement. It’s a method for empathy that doesn’t sanitize the darkness; it makes it legible by admitting the unnerving truth that most extremes have a seed of familiarity.
The subtext is both intimate and slightly unsettling: the actor’s job is to locate an internal address for someone else’s choices, including the ones we’d rather outsource to monsters. “Lives in me” implies permanence, not a temporary costume. It suggests character isn’t an external mask but a mapped region of temperament, fear, desire, or wounded pride that the performer can visit. That’s how you get specificity without melodrama: not “I’m evil,” but “I’m protecting something,” “I’m starving for control,” “I’m terrified of being ordinary.”
Contextually, it lands in a post-antihero culture where viewers are trained to crave psychological receipts. Quinto’s phrasing aligns with that demand while quietly insisting on boundaries: understanding isn’t endorsement. It’s a method for empathy that doesn’t sanitize the darkness; it makes it legible by admitting the unnerving truth that most extremes have a seed of familiarity.
Quote Details
| Topic | Art |
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