Michaela Coel Is Redefining the Romantic Comedy
I'm nervous to interview Michaela Coel. As a fellow West African who devoured Coel's Chewing Gum in just one weekend (and wouldn't stop talking about the episodes until weeks after), the stakes are high. At least that's how I felt going into this interview. But after playing phone tag with Coel for few minutes-she's in London! I'm in New York!-and finally getting on the phone for our chat, the nerves fell away. In the past Coel has described herself as a misfit, calling herself and her friends a "huge gang of commercially unattractive, beautiful misfits, who found the mainstream world unattractive" in the MacTaggart lecture she gave at the Edinburgh Television Festival in August. It would seem that, as a result, the person who I speak with is relatable, kind, and shockingly self-aware: the exact opposite of Tracey, her adorkable Chewing Gum character.
We're on the phone to talk about her new Netflix film, Been So Long. In the romantic-comedy musical, Coel plays Simone, a single mother who meets a Bad Boy (recently released from jail) on a random night out with her kooky best friend. The new addition to the string of romantic comedies Netflix has recently released is one Coel suggests watching "if you want a little break from the outrage." The outrage meaning all the crap you consume on social media, 24-hour cable news, and yes, the internet. "If you want to open yourself up to being uplifted and to feel hope, then you should switch it on," says the actress.
Ahead, Coel tells us more about her new role, what she learned on a three-month social media hiatus, and why she answers DMs from fans-even though they may not expect her to.
In the past, when I've thought of leads in romantic comedies or musicals, it's like: Rachel McAdams! Julia Roberts! But your movie stars two Black-British people. Is that what attracted you to this project?
No-Simone doesn’t have a face, and in the play [that Been So Long is based on], Simone is played by a very talented mixed-race actress. Originally the part I was offered was for [Simone's best friend] Yvonne. But I knew if I didn't try and grab the part of Simone, it would naturally go to someone who doesn’t look like me. And I thought to myself, well, when I was younger, I didn’t see anyone who looked like me in romantic comedies...it’s, like you said, always a Julia Roberts or Rachel McAdams. So I thought, you know what, I need to fill that position for the children coming up. And when I get that position, I’m going to shave all of her fucking hair off to really go all the way. I wanted to provide what I lacked-that could only happen when I took the part.
I saw on Instagram that you replied to a commenter who said something negative about shaving your head for this musical. What prompted you to reply?
You know what, I love the internet. And I recently found this new, third wave of empathy. Which means that when someone comes to comment like that-like, “I don't want to see women with no hair on screen”-I’m like, What’s it really about? I wanted to create a dialogue and I thought maybe he might see this response. I get direct messages through my DMs and I reply to them as much as I can, because I respect my audience. Even if they don’t respect me. Even if they don’t respect what I look like, I respect them, and I want to have a dialogue with them.
What have you found or learned in creating this dialogue?
It began with Chewing Gum. When you’re quite na?ve to what the internet is and suddenly you’re on a huge screen and it’s on Netflix until the end of time...with that come amazing audiences who really understand the show you’ve made. But also my phone would ping and I’d look, expecting a text from my mum, and it’s a stranger saying, “You ugly ass bitch.”
Originally it pricks you, but then I thought: Why would someone do this? Why would someone just go on a stranger’s page and send them a personalized message saying “I don’t approve of your presence”? I would never publicly respond-but I would follow them on social media and then have direct messages. I still do it now. Do you have Madame Tussauds in America?
The wax museum? Yes, we do.
So you can imagine going through Madame Tussauds, and you see a statue of some person and you’re like, “Oh, this doesn’t look good.” Then suddenly the mannequin moves and you jump because you weren’t expecting them to hear you. Sometimes I think people see me as a mannequin, and I like to show people that I’m moving. Then it's, "And how do you feel now about the things that you say? About the way that you chose to communicate, now that you know I’m a real person and that I love you? I know you’re a stranger, and I love you and I saw what you had to say."
You just came off of a three-month social media break. What made you take that break?
Hmm, what did make me take that break? I listened to a lot of Colin Wright. He has a podcast called Let’s Know Things. Everybody should listen to a podcast called Medium Playback. And they have an episode called “Design's Lost Generation.” It’s about social media and Facebook and how those things profit off marginalized communities. I’m from a marginalized community-I'm Black-British. I’m from Ghana, my parents are immigrants here. They know you’re more likely to click on something that makes you feel outraged, on something that causes you pain-we are more likely to run to pain than to pleasure. We like dark, darkness, dark times, misery, shock.
I saw that in operation and thought, it’s probably healthy to take a few weeks off from this. And it’s not with the mind to never come back, because that’s where I get to engage with the world one on one. But I think it’s good to take a break to make sure you are the master of your social media account and social media is not the master of you.
What did you learn about yourself during that break?
I learned a lot. So many of the things that I just assumed were good for me, which includes, you know, finessing my lace-front wig for twelve hours before I step out the house, making sure my contour is immaculate-these things are not so crucial to my daily living. Stepping out of social media made me look at the world more and see, even just documentaries-for example, there's one called City of Joy out on Netflix-which is based on a small, new created city in Congo.
It made me look at gratitude. Instagram can make you feel like you’re not enough. It can make you feel like you need to aspire to be and have certain things and look certain ways. I found a gratitude for who I am now and what I am now, and a gratitude for everything that I have, no matter what that is. I don’t need to buy new things, I don’t need to wear new things, I don’t need to drive new things. If I lack a designer top or a shoe or makeup, my world is not going to crumble. There are people in the world being raped with machetes. I learned to just be okay with where I’m at and making sure my side of the sheet is clean. Am I being a good person? Am I showing love? I needed to step away from the phone to see these things as the way they are.
I read the transcript for your MacTaggart lecture and loved what you had to say about being a misfit and finding your tribe. I especially liked the part where you talked about drama school and how you were trained to say yes. Do you feel like that tendency to say yes creeps into your life anymore?
No. It probably stopped while I was in drama school. I think I’m actually probably finding my way back to a different version of saying yes. Which means now, if a misfit messages me on Instagram saying, "I’m doing this event, I know you probably don’t see these messages, but can you come," I say yes. If I see that message, I’m going to turn up and surprise the fuck out of everyone. That’s a good yes.
Then there’s other yeses that are not so good. You have to look and really assess situations and go, "Is this something I really should say yes to, or should I have my guard up?" I think you have to kind of harness your intuition. There’s no rulebook, and you have to really rely on yourself. What would it cost me to go to a misfit who is struggling? What’s it going to cost me to just turn up and talk to people? Nothing. But other things down the road…you can say, am I setting myself up for a tricky situation? And then you have to listen to your heart. But sometimes yes is great.
How did you learn how to say no?
You practice. I don’t remember who told me this, but it had to have been somebody older and somebody wiser. It was, you put your teeth together, and you form an O, and you put your tongue to the back of your teeth and you say “No.” You practice in little ways. So if you don’t like food at a restaurant, practice saying “I don’t like this food.” If it’s a fancy restaurant and you don’t like the food and you’re paying 30 pounds for it, just practice going, “I don’t like my food. I don’t want to pay for this food.” That’s where it begins, practicing like that. And it starts to feel good. Learning how to respect yourself and say no automatically contributes mentally to your self-worth. No. N.O. No. Practice. That’s how.
I want to circle back to Simone. The role seems very different from what you’ve done in the past. Were you nervous stepping into this role?
I was really nervous because of the singing. It’s also largely improvised, which is new to me. I’ve never improv’d on TV or on stage. I usually write and learn every single word. So those things are hard and scary, but the cast I knew already. I've known Arinzé [Kene, who plays Raymond] for 10 years. He’s the first actor I ever made friends with. And Ronke Adekoluejo, who plays Yvonne, is my best friend in real life. For my mind and my ego it’s a little bit nerve-wracking, but listen, there are real-life reasons people in the world are nervous. There are people who are being threatened with being deported after the country’s accepted them. They’re nervous. I don’t need to be nervous about this shit.
You have a really good perspective on this whole thing. How'd you develop that?
You know what, I guess I started out in the creative arts as a Christian. I don’t go to church anymore and I love Buddha and Allah as much as I do Yahweh, now. But it meant that I started with a mind to serve. For those coming after me, I want to make sure I give then a pampered experience. This means, if I want to really be a good servant, I have to step outside of looking at this world not for the wrongs that I’ve been done, but the powers that I have, the responsibility that I have. That forces you to look at things from a distant perspective. I think the further you can look at things, the clearer your inside is. And also it makes you look at yourself.
I travel a lot and isolation means that I can’t cling onto my phone or to people or to strangers or friends or family when I’m out. I was at a farm just now in Michigan-it means that I really have no choice. I am alone, I’m on a farm. There’s nothing here but the sound of coyotes in the distance. I have to look at myself and confront my demons and look at my angels. And that has been a blessing. I’m lucky to have been able to do that.
Is there anything else that you want to say about the film?
I was asked yesterday by a journalist, “Why should we watch?” Which is a very tricky question. But if you are noticing perhaps that your life on your phone or on your tablet or in your laptop consists of outrage, if you want a little break from outrage and want to open yourself up to being uplifted and to feel hope, then you should switch on.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
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