Alex Sharp May Be One of the Stars of 3 Body Problem But He’s Also a True Renaissance Man

The deeper research—to enter the mind of someone aware of his imminent mortality—led Sharp to unexpected places. “I worked quite extensively with a few different death doulas, which was not a profession I’d heard of.” Sharp sought out these non-medical professionals, whom he calls “the angels of society,” and became increasingly familiar with death. “It was incredibly profound and helpful.” Sharp says.

In daily life, Sharp buzzes with a nervous, infectious energy, entirely unlike his tragic character. Even through the clumsy mediation of Zoom, Sharp’s large, blue eyes emote wildly. One moment, they pool with sincerity. The next, they sparkle with mirth. Rather than the chiseled mug of a matinee idol, Sharp possesses the roguish appeal of a young Paul McCarney or Pierre Clémenti. Soft spoken but quick, he evokes an earnest school boy or an irreverent rock star.

When asked about the massive audience the show will likely reach, Sharp grimaces. “I can’t think about it too much or my brain will melt. I never think about the audience as a hundred million people or something like that. I’m thinking about two people sitting on a couch.” He is grateful, however, that television and film can be consumed by more people for less money than theater can. “Art is to be shared. For me, that’s the point of it.”

Shortly after Sharp and I conclude our interview, his publicist emails to ask if I might be able to make a bit more time—there were a few topics we didn’t get to: his dream collaborators (Lukas Dhont and Oliver Hermanus), his enduring acting inspirations (“Viola Davis, whom I love, and Philip Seymour Hoffman in Doubt; Philip Seymour Hoffman in everything”), what leads him to a project (“the quality of the writing, always”), his relationship to reviews (“dicey”). When we speak on the phone for another hour, I learn that Sharp is even more of a renaissance man than I realized.

“I was quite burned out,” Sharp says of wrapping 3 Body Problem. “After a project, I always go on a wild adventure to just separate myself and be mentally healthy.” Previous adventures had included a 2,000 mile off-road Jeep journey. “I spent all my money on the Jeep, so I couldn’t stay in hotels,” he says. “So I slept in the back with the puppy I had just got.” During another period of time he designed and built a house for his late father, then in the throes of Alzheimer’s disease, next to his own in upstate New York. He speaks of the laborious, emotional process with reverence. “It kind of bankrupted me but it ended up being the most artistically fulfilling thing I had done in years.”