#a story with a lot of really interesting what ifs and interconnected plotlines

[cyatzura]

okay if it really is yuuji's domain i will find the file were i once plotted out a jjk fic more than a year ago about sukuna letting gojo's domain hit megumi and subsequent dimension travel and try to write it out because megumi having to endure dimension travel only to be caught in an eery false reality afterwards sounds right up my alley

[d-criss-news]

Darren Criss and Este Haim’s Friendship Takes Center Stage on That Thing I Do

On their new podcast, the musician-actors are picking the brains of fellow creatives about the passions that fuel and define them.

Darren Criss and Este Haim may have named their podcast That Thing I Do after the mid-’90s movie close to their hearts—That Thing You Do!, about the rise and fall of a fictional rock band—but there’s another film that seemed to loom just as large when creating their show.

“I think we’re like, slightly obsessed with the Sliding Doors moment,” Haim told Vanity Fair, referencing the 1998 rom-com that follows Gwyneth Paltrow’s character down two divergent timelines. “If you’re so incredibly passionate about multiple things, what is the thing? What is the event? Was there an event that made you kind of pivot and just go left instead of going right at that fork in the road?”

That pivotal crossroads is just one of the topics that Criss and Haim are eager to delve into on their show. Produced by Cadence13, That Thing I Do is a friendship-fueled quest to understand the passions, past and present, that have shaped the careers of other multi-hyphenate artists (Criss is an actor with a background in music, and Haim is a musician with roots in theater). In addition to lengthy, intimate conversations with celebrities including Carly Rae Jepsen, Evan Rachel Wood, and Reggie Watts, That Thing I Do mines Criss and Haim’s insatiable curiosity for all things creative to produce episodes that are as unpredictable as they are delightful.

As hosts, Criss and Haim tear through each episode like tornados: Accents are adopted, sentences are sung, and movie references and inside jokes fly hard and fast. Criss is a verbose, hyperkinetic storyteller, quick with a self-deprecating comment or quippy aside, and Haim is eager and unselfconscious, with a palpable enthusiasm for every guest and every possible subject. It quickly becomes clear that this is one of those friendships where the participants seem to more or less share a brain; where one can riff off the other, seemingly in perpetuity, about any number of topics without ever getting bored. And when a pair of celebrities find themselves so simpatico—especially a duo as funny and game as these two—what are they supposed to do? Not start a podcast?

That was more or less Haim’s thinking, after she and Criss started logging lengthy FaceTime calls during the pandemic that she increasingly felt would be entertaining to a wider audience. Criss, however, was more reluctant to start recording their conversations: “I said no so many times,” he said. “I really felt like I didn’t have time. But Este wore me down.”“I am pretty relentless when I want to do something,” said Haim, grinning. Haim, one-third of the eponymous rock band Haim, experienced her own “Sliding Doors moment” in her late teens, when after years of theater and dance training, she chose to attend the University of California, Los Angeles, for ethnomusicology, instead of pursuing drama programs at Carnegie Mellon or New York University. Over 10 years later, with a slew of Grammy nominations under her belt, music videos directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, and a life spent performing alongside sisters Danielle and Alana, there’s no question that Haim loves what she does, and takes it seriously. “I try to work at my craft every single day,” said Haim. “So at least I have that. I definitely try to stay creative every single day. If it’s not me writing lyrics, it’s me, you know, singing ideas into my iPhone.” But she’s still open about a “hunger” for acting and dance that she feels is still important to nourish, however and whenever she can. She reminisces about taking an improv class at the Upright Citizens Brigade in 2017, and her love of the Suzuki and Viewpoints methods of acting, both movement-based techniques that draw on an extreme awareness of the body. She claims she still interrogates actor friends about their experiences working in avant-garde theater (she charmingly calls these conversations “offline podcasts”).

Haim’s passion when talking about physical theater surprises even Criss: “We’ve talked a lot about stuff, but we’ve never really talked about [Suzuki],” he said. “I want to talk about that in the podcast, because we get to learn new stuff about each other every week.”

That real-time revelation speaks directly to Criss and Haim’s goal with That Thing I Do—to create a space where artists can speak to all parts of themselves, and bring previously unknown or underappreciated areas of passion and skill to light. “One of the things that I always love finding out about artists who I think are so incredible in one field is that there’s usually a seed somewhere else that is just as potent,” said Criss, citing recent interviews with Thundercat, in which the musician revealed his background in visual art, and Maya Rudolph, who majored in photography at University of California, Santa Cruz, before becoming a Saturday Night Live all-star, as prime examples. “Having an artistic spirit is by its nature very amorphous. It usually comes with a lot of roots that go other places.”

That interconnectivity of talents is something that Criss, an Emmy– and Golden Globe Award–winning actor (The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story) deeply relates to. As he describes it, each thread of his creative expression is inextricably linked to the other: “When I’m acting, I’m composing music, the way that dialogue is put together has rhythm, cadence, speed, tone, pitch,” he said. “There’s things that are very musical and compositional about the way that you deliver dialogue. So to me, it’s all kind of the same stuff. It’s all one body of water that can take different shapes.”

That’s not to say he hasn’t wondered what his life might have been like had he prioritized one of his skills over another at a certain time, imagining his own Sliding Doors plotline. “I often wonder what would have happened if, when I was 22 and I was getting attention from major labels and acting wasn’t happening, music was happening—would I have been a Shawn Mendestype?” said Criss. “But I don’t mind the expense that I’ve paid in not doing those one things, like, volumetrically. I now have a collection of a lot of things that have lower visibility, but higher passion and gratification.”

To that point, That Thing I Do doesn’t dwell too much on the could-have-beens and what-ifs, as tempting a thought exercise as it may be. He and Haim are more interested in finding the common threads between their own experiences and that of other creatives, and seeking the “why” behind the artistic choices their peers have made. Haim also reveals a less lofty, ulterior motive behind the pod: “This was also our evil plan to make new friends.”

And while both multi-hyphenates may have just added yet another commitment to their already very full plates, both appear energized by their newfound vocation as hosts—and to have a dedicated space to simply shoot the shit with each other. “I think we’re just getting started,” said Criss. “And I think Este would say the same.”