Javier Bardem: The Life Story Behind the Spanish Star

Javier Bardem was born on 1 March 1969 in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, in the Canary Islands, into a family where acting was not a dream but a trade passed down through generations. His mother, Pilar Bardem, was a well-known Spanish actor, his father, Jose Carlos Encinas, was the son of a cattle rancher, and his grandparents, Rafael Bardem and Matilde Munoz Sampedro, were both actors. His uncle, Juan Antonio Bardem, was one of Spain’s most important film directors, a man who had been imprisoned under the Franco regime for his political films. Javier grew up in Madrid, where his mother took him to theatres and film sets, and where the family business was discussed at the dinner table as other families discussed farming or shopkeeping.

He did not want to be an actor at first. As a teenager he was a talented rugby player, a strong, physical young man who played for the Spanish national under-16 team, and he dreamed of a sporting career. He also studied painting, and for a while he thought he might become an artist. But the family pull was strong, and by his early twenties he was taking small roles in Spanish films, learning his craft in a cinema that was very different from Hollywood: low-budget, politically engaged and deeply rooted in Spanish life. This is the story of how a boy from a famous acting family became one of the most respected actors in the world, an Oscar winner who has played a killer, a lover, a priest and a villain, and who has done it all in two languages.

A Family of Actors in Madrid

The Bardem family is one of the great acting dynasties of Spain. Rafael Bardem, Javier’s grandfather, appeared in dozens of Spanish films from the 1940s onwards, and his wife Matilde was also a working actor. Their daughter Pilar became one of Spain’s most respected performers, appearing on stage, in films and on television for more than fifty years, and she was known for her political commitment as well as her talent. Juan Antonio Bardem, Rafael’s brother, directed films such as Death of a Cyclist in 1955, a drama about a bourgeois couple who kill a cyclist and flee, which became a landmark of Spanish cinema and a quiet protest against the Franco regime. The family lived in Madrid, in a house full of scripts, posters and arguments about films, and Javier and his siblings, Carlos and Monica, both of whom became actors, grew up knowing that acting was a job, with rehearsals, disappointments and pay cheques, not a fantasy.

Javier’s parents separated when he was young, and he was raised mainly by his mother, who worked constantly to support the family. He has spoken about how his mother taught him to take acting seriously, to respect the audience, and to never treat a role as beneath him, whether it was a small part in a television series or a leading role in a film. He attended school in Madrid, played rugby at a high level, and studied painting at the Escuela de Artes y Oficios, where he learned to draw and to look at the world as an artist does. The painting stayed with him: he has said that he still draws, and that the visual sense he learned as a painter helps him understand a character’s physicality, how a man stands, how he holds his hands, how he occupies a room.

His first screen appearance came as a child, in a small role in the television series El picaro in 1974, when he was five years old, but his serious career began in the late 1980s, with small parts in Spanish films. He appeared in The Ages of Lulu in 1990, directed by Bigas Luna, a film about a young woman’s sexual awakening that was controversial in Spain, and in High Heels in 1991, directed by Pedro Almodovar, Spain’s most famous director. These were small roles, but they put him in front of the two directors who would define Spanish cinema in the 1990s, and they taught him how a film set worked, how to take direction, and how to make an impression in a few minutes of screen time.

Jamon Jamon and the Young Star of Spanish Cinema

The film that made Bardem famous in Spain was Jamon Jamon, released in 1992 and directed by Bigas Luna. He played Raul, a handsome, working-class young man who delivers ham on a motorbike and who becomes involved with Silvia, played by Penelope Cruz, a young woman who works in a factory and whose mother runs a brothel. The film was a bawdy, colourful comedy-drama about sex, class and food, and it became a major success in Spain, launching the careers of both Bardem and Cruz, who were 23 and 18 at the time. Bardem played Raul as a man of appetite and charm, a bullfighter’s son who was not as simple as he looked, and the performance showed a physical confidence and a comic timing that Spanish audiences had not seen from him before.

Jamon Jamon was followed by a series of roles that established him as one of the leading young actors in Spain. He starred in Golden Balls in 1993, also directed by Bigas Luna, playing a man who builds apartment blocks and loses everything, and in Running Out of Time in 1994, a comedy about a man who loses his job and his wife on the same day. He appeared in Mouth to Mouth in 1995, directed by Manuel Gomez Pereira, and in Ecstasy in 1996, and he worked steadily through the decade, taking roles in films that ranged from comedy to drama to thriller. What connected them was his willingness to play men who were flawed, funny and physical, men who ate, drank, fought and loved with an intensity that felt Spanish in a way that Hollywood leading men did not.

During this period he also became known for his personal life. He was in a relationship with the actor Cristina Poyatos, and later with the actor Pilar Bardem’s colleagues, but the relationship that would define his public image began on the set of Jamon Jamon, where he met Penelope Cruz. The two did not become a couple then; they were young, they were working, and they went their separate ways for more than a decade. They would meet again on the set of Vicky Cristina Barcelona in 2007, and they would marry in 2010, but in the 1990s they were simply two young actors at the start of their careers, sharing a film that made them both famous. Bardem has spoken about those years as a time of freedom and hard work, when he took any role that interested him and learned his craft by doing it.

Before Night Falls and the Move to International Cinema

The film that took Bardem beyond Spain was Before Night Falls, released in 2000 and directed by Julian Schnabel, the American painter turned director. Bardem played Reinaldo Arenas, the Cuban poet and novelist who was persecuted by the Castro regime for his homosexuality and his writing, and who died in New York in 1990. The role required him to play a man over several decades, from a young poet in Cuba to a dying exile in America, and to do it in English, a language he had not spoken fluently before. He learned English for the part, worked with a dialect coach, and gave a performance of extraordinary sensitivity, playing Arenas as a man whose spirit could not be broken even as his body failed. The film premiered at the Venice Film Festival, where Bardem won the Volpi Cup for Best Actor, and he was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor, the first Spanish actor ever to be nominated in that category.

The nomination changed his career. Hollywood directors began to offer him roles, and he took them carefully, refusing parts that felt like stereotypes of the Latin lover or the drug dealer. He appeared in The Dancer Upstairs in 2002, directed by John Malkovich, playing a Peruvian detective, and in Collateral in 2004, a brief but memorable role as a drug lord in Michael Mann’s Los Angeles thriller, opposite Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx. He also returned to Spanish cinema, starring in The Sea Inside in 2004, directed by Alejandro Amenabar, playing Ramon Sampedro, a quadriplegic man who fought for the right to die. The film was based on a true story, and Bardem played Sampedro as a man of wit and dignity, confined to a bed but free in his mind, and the performance won him the Volpi Cup at Venice for a second time. The Sea Inside won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, and it confirmed Bardem as an actor who could carry a film built around a single room and a single man.

What connected these roles was a refusal to be limited by language or by type. Bardem spoke Spanish, English and, for some roles, a mixture of both, and he played characters from Cuba, Peru, Spain and Mexico with the same conviction. He was not interested in being a Hollywood star. He was interested in being an actor who could work anywhere, in any language, and who could play any kind of man. That ambition would be tested by the role that made him famous around the world, a role that required him to play a man with almost no humanity at all.

Anton Chigurh and the Oscar for No Country for Old Men

In 2007, Joel and Ethan Coen cast Bardem as Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men, an adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel about a Texas hitman who kills without motive and without remorse. Chigurh was a character unlike any Bardem had played before: a man with a pageboy haircut, a soft voice and a coin he flipped to decide whether his victims lived or died. He carried a cattle gun, a pneumatic weapon used to kill cows, which he used to blow out door locks and to murder his targets, and he moved through the film with a calm that was more frightening than any shouting. Bardem played him as a force of nature, a man who did not hate his victims, who did not enjoy killing them, but who believed that chance, not morality, decided who lived.

The performance became one of the most acclaimed of the decade. The film premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2007, was released in November, and went on to win four Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. Bardem won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in February 2008, becoming the first Spanish actor to win an Oscar, and he also won the Golden Globe, the BAFTA and the Screen Actors Guild Award for the role. His acceptance speech at the Oscars was given in Spanish, a deliberate choice that honoured his mother, who was in the audience, and the Spanish cinema that had made him. He thanked his mother in Spanish, saying that she had taught him to be an actor, and the moment became one of the most memorable of the ceremony.

Chigurh also created a problem. The character was so vivid, so frightening, that audiences and directors began to associate Bardem with villains, with men who kill without feeling. He has spoken about how he turned down many villain roles after No Country, because he did not want to be typecast, and how he chose instead to play lovers, fathers and ordinary men. The role that followed, in Vicky Cristina Barcelona in 2008, was a deliberate contrast: he played Juan Antonio, a painter in Barcelona who is involved with two American women, played by Scarlett Johansson and Rebecca Hall, and with his former wife, played by Penelope Cruz. The film was a romantic comedy-drama directed by Woody Allen, and Bardem played Juan Antonio as a passionate, flawed, charming man, a world away from Chigurh. The film was a success, and it reunited him with Cruz, who won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress for her performance.

Biutiful, Skyfall and the Second Act

In 2010, Bardem starred in Biutiful, directed by Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, playing Uxbal, a man in Barcelona who is dying of cancer and who tries to provide for his two children while working in the illegal trade in counterfeit goods and immigrant labour. The role required him to speak Catalan and Spanish, to play a man who is both a criminal and a loving father, and to carry a film that was bleak, long and emotionally demanding. He was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor for the performance, his second nomination in that category, and he won the Best Actor award at the Cannes Film Festival. The film was not a commercial success, but it confirmed his reputation as an actor who would take the hardest roles, in any language, and who would not shy away from a character’s ugliness.

In 2012, he took one of the most famous villain roles in cinema, playing Raoul Silva in Skyfall, the twenty-third James Bond film, opposite Daniel Craig. Silva was a former MI6 agent who had been betrayed by M, played by Judi Dench, and who returned to seek revenge, hacking into computers, blowing up buildings and capturing Bond himself. Bardem played him as a man of theatrical flair, with dyed blond hair, a lisp that came from a poison capsule that had destroyed his teeth, and a habit of quoting poetry while planning murder. The performance was widely praised, and the film became the highest-grossing Bond film of its time, earning more than 1.1 billion dollars worldwide. Silva was a villain in the tradition of Chigurh, but he was also a showman, a man who enjoyed his own performance, and Bardem gave him a humour that Chigurh had never had.

The years after Skyfall brought a mix of large and small films. He starred in The Counselor in 2013, directed by Ridley Scott, playing a nightclub owner involved in drug smuggling, and in Loving Pablo in 2017, playing the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar opposite Penelope Cruz as the journalist Virginia Vallejo. He appeared in mother! in 2017, Darren Aronofsky’s allegorical horror film, playing a poet whose wife, played by Jennifer Lawrence, is driven to madness by visitors to their home. He took the role of Stilgar in Dune in 2021 and Dune: Part Two in 2024, playing the leader of the Fremen, a desert people who live on the planet Arrakis, and who help Paul Atreides, played by Timothee Chalamet, in his fight against the Emperor. Stilgar was a man of faith and tradition, and Bardem played him with a gravity and a humour that made him one of the most popular characters in the films.

Family, Penelope Cruz and Life Beyond Acting

Bardem married Penelope Cruz in July 2010, in a private ceremony in the Bahamas, after a relationship that had begun during the filming of Vicky Cristina Barcelona. The two have two children: a son, Leo, born in January 2011, and a daughter, Luna, born in July 2013. The family lives in Madrid and Los Angeles, and both parents are known for keeping their children out of the public eye, rarely posting photographs of them and rarely discussing them in interviews. Bardem has spoken about how fatherhood changed his sense of time, making him more selective about the films he takes and more aware of the world his children will inherit. He has also spoken about how working with Cruz, whom he has now appeared with in several films, is both a pleasure and a challenge, because they know each other so well that they have to work harder to surprise each other on screen.

His activism is an important part of his public life. He is a supporter of Greenpeace, and he has campaigned for the protection of the oceans, appearing in documentaries about overfishing and speaking at the United Nations about the need for marine sanctuaries. He is also a vocal critic of the Spanish government’s policies on culture and of the treatment of the Sahrawi people in Western Sahara, a cause he has supported for many years. He has spoken about his family’s political history, about his uncle’s imprisonment under Franco, and about the responsibility of artists to speak about injustice, even when it is uncomfortable. That political commitment is not a recent addition to his career. It is part of who he is, inherited from a family that paid a price for its beliefs, and it shapes the roles he chooses: men who are outsiders, who fight against power, and who refuse to be silent.

He also remains a passionate supporter of Spanish cinema, and he has said that he will always return to Spain to make films, even when Hollywood offers him more money. He has worked with directors such as Fernando Leon de Aranoa, in The Good Boss in 2021, a dark comedy about a factory owner who tries to win an award while his workers suffer, a film that won several Goya Awards, Spain’s national film prizes. The Good Boss showed a different side of Bardem: a comic, manipulative, charming boss who is also a bully, and the performance was praised as one of the best of his career. It was a reminder that, after thirty years, he is still learning, still taking risks, and still surprising audiences who think they know what a Javier Bardem performance looks like.

Being the Ricardos and Playing Desi Arnaz

One of the most surprising roles of Bardem’s later career came in 2021, when Aaron Sorkin cast him as Desi Arnaz in Being the Ricardos, a film about a single week in the lives of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz during the production of I Love Lucy. Arnaz was a Cuban bandleader who became a television pioneer, a man who was funny, charming and deeply insecure, and who fought to keep his marriage and his show alive while facing accusations of communism and rumours of infidelity. Bardem played him as a man who was always performing, even when he was not on stage, and who used humour to hide his fear. The performance earned him his fourth Academy Award nomination, for Best Actor, and it showed a side of him that audiences had rarely seen: a comic actor who could sing, dance and carry a light scene as well as a dark one. It was also a reminder of his range across languages and cultures. He had played a Cuban poet in Before Night Falls, a Spanish factory boss in The Good Boss, a Texan killer in No Country for Old Men, and now a Cuban-American television star in 1950s Hollywood, and each performance felt specific, as if he had lived that man’s life rather than studied it.

My Take:

Craft. Range is the bravest commercial choice a star can make, and the refusal to repeat one success is why the filmography stays surprising. What impresses me most about the craft here is the silent confidence of the portrayals. The preparation behind the portrayals deserves more attention than it generally gets, because a character that looks effortless has generally been created from reading, rehearsal, and private work. I admire the way the work stays curious, because achievement frequently tells a performer that learning is finished, and here the opposite happened. In an age when so much acting is designed to be clipped and shared, there is something quietly radical about a portrayal that asks the audience to pay attention. The little choices matter most to me, the pauses and the listening, because they show a performer who understands that acting is shared attention. There is also a lesson in the way the path has handled range, because it would have been easy, and profitable, to repeat the most celebrated part. Effort shown is effort wasted, in my view, and the hidden preparation behind these characters is the real success. Watching this journey intently, the first thing that stands out is how modest of it depends on luck, because the shape of the work was decided by a refusal to be rushed. The best performances here rely on honesty rather than fashion, and that is why I expect them to age well. The refusal to do that, the insistence on varied worlds and distinct kinds of people, is what makes the filmography interesting. Talent is the entry ticket here, but taste is the career, and taste is created one cautious choice at a time. Talent is the entry ticket here, but taste is the career, and taste is created through the characters refused as much as the roles taken. There is also a lesson in the way the path has handled range, because it would have been easy, and profitable, to repeat the most famous character. What impresses me most about the craft here is the trust placed in the audience. The little decisions matter most to me, the pauses and the listening, because they show a performer who understands that acting is shared attention. In an age when so much acting is designed to be clipped and shared, there is something quietly radical about a portrayal that asks the audience to pay attention. The refusal to do that, the insistence on distinct worlds and distinct kinds of people, is what keeps the work alive. I admire the way the work stays curious, because triumph often tells a performer that learning is finished, and here new languages and genres kept arriving. Effort shown is effort wasted, in my view, and the hidden preparation behind these characters is why the work feels effortless. Range is the bravest commercial choice a performer can make, and the refusal to repeat one success is why the filmography stays surprising. One more reflection, and it is about courage, because courage in acting is not only about taking on a hard character; it is about trusting that the audience will follow.

Meaning. Patience is still a real strategy, not just a consolation, and this path proves it, because the careful decisions compounded. The long way round is still the best way home, and that is the message I take from years of patient work. Ambition and kindness can live jointly, and this path shows that the combination is rare and worth celebrating. The judgement that matters is not the first one but the last one, and the last one is written by the work itself. There is also a meaning here about place and belonging, because a performer who carries their early streets into global work is doing something more than acting. For me, the most human part of the narrative is the balance between ambition and kindness, because ambition is visible in the refusal to settle, and kindness is visible in the way colleagues speak. Ageing in public with grace is a triumph of its own, and the later characters embrace that reality, which turns experience into depth. That matters to viewers who rarely see their own world on screen, and it matters to young performers who wonder whether they need to start over somewhere else to succeed. A local narrative can become a global one without losing its roots, and that is why this journey matters beyond movie. The tale also speaks to anyone who has ever been underestimated, because early on, nobody could have predicted the honours that would arrive. In a culture that promises fast results, that slowness is almost a form of protest, because it says that some things are worth doing well, even when well takes years. The deeper meaning of this narrative, for me, is about time, because a journey like this one cannot be built on a viral moment. That matters to audiences who rarely see their own world on screen, and it matters to young performers who wonder whether they need to give up their accent to succeed. The judgement that matters is not the first one but the last one, and the last one is written by a record that holds jointly. In a culture that promises fast results, that slowness is almost a form of protest, because it says that some things are worth doing properly, even if properly takes a decade. Ageing in public with grace is a triumph of its own, and the later roles embrace that reality, which turns experience into depth. The deeper meaning of this tale, for me, is about time, because a journey like this one cannot be hurried into greatness. Patience is still a real strategy, not just a consolation, and this path proves it, because time was an ally, not an enemy. The narrative also speaks to anyone who has ever been underestimated, because early on, nobody could have predicted the scale of what would follow. The long way round is still the best way home, and that is the message I take from a journey created steadily. A local narrative can become a worldwide one without losing its roots, and that is a hopeful message. I keep coming back to the human side of the tale, too, because behind every portrayal is a person who created a life one role at a time.

Lessons. Being easy to work with is a professional asset as real as any award, because auteurs remember good experiences. The second lesson would be to choose the part, not the size of the show, because a little movie with a real person offers more to play. Another lesson is about saying no, because the most major decisions in this path may have been the characters turned down. Curiosity is the cheapest form of ambition, and it is the one that never runs out, because learning a new language keeps the work new. If I had to pull practical lessons from this life tale, the first would be to train properly before chasing attention, because training is the reason the work lasts. The third lesson would be to protect the private life, because the work needs a real life behind it, and a real life needs protection from the work. Failure treated as information is the difference between a long path and a short one, and that response is what separates the best from the rest. Every yes costs a no somewhere else, and the art is in choosing which yes is worth the sacrifice. The moment a performer decides there is nothing left to learn, the work begins to repeat itself, and here that moment never came. Collaboration is a lesson too, because no performance happens alone, and the careers that last are built on trusted filmmakers. Saying no is frightening when money is on the table, but it is the only way to keep a path from becoming a single image. The narrative also teaches something about failure, which is that it is only fatal if it is treated as a verdict, because a character that did not land can be a reason to learn, or a reason to stop. Being easy to work with is a professional asset as real as any award, because auteurs remember good experiences. Saying no is frightening when money is on the table, but it is the only way to keep a path from becoming a single image. The tale also teaches something about failure, which is that it is only fatal if it is treated as a verdict, because a silent year can be a reason to learn, or a reason to stop. Curiosity is the cheapest form of ambition, and it is the one that never runs out, because trying a fresh genre keeps the work fresh. The moment a performer decides there is nothing left to learn, the work begins to repeat itself, and here the student never left. Every yes costs a no somewhere else, and the art is in choosing which yes is worth the sacrifice. If I had to pull practical lessons from this life tale, the first would be to train properly before chasing attention, because training is boring, slow, and invisible. Another lesson is about saying no, because the most significant decisions in this path may have been the characters turned down. The second lesson would be to choose the role, not the size of the show, because a modest film with a real character teaches more and lasts longer. There is also something to be said about the way this tale crosses borders, because a performer who works in more than one language and more than one country is proving that tales travel.

Verdict. That is a rare pleasure, and it is worth celebrating while the narrative is still being written, because the curiosity is still alive. I expect the next chapters to be as bold as the ones before them, because bravery practised for this long becomes a way of working. And if you have followed the career for years, the pleasure is varied but just as real: it is the pleasure of watching someone you trust choose well, project after project. My truthful verdict is that this is one of the most complete careers of its generation, not because every project succeeded, but because the decisions were courageous. In the end, the story matters because it is a human story, not only a celebrated one, and behind the awards and the premieres is a figure who created a life one character at a time. Few performers manage all four of those things: the early promise, the earned turning point, the bold middle years, and the surprising later work, and that is the standard I apply. Start with the breakthrough, then go back, then watch the recent work in order, and you will understand why the tale is worth telling. I also think the career will age well, because the portrayals that rely on honesty rather than fashion are the ones that survive, and truth does not date. What I will keep watching for is the next decision, because a journey like this one is interesting precisely because the next role cannot be chosen by anyone else. So if you are discovering this performer for the first time, start with the turning point, then go back to the early work, and then watch the recent projects in order, because you will see a journey becoming itself. The early promise was real, the big break was earned, the middle years were courageous, and the later work is still moving forward. Most performers manage one or two great chapters, and the rest is a long echo, but here the work kept changing. My truthful verdict is that this is one of the most complete careers of its generation, not because every project succeeded, but because the whole body of work holds jointly. In the end, the narrative matters because it is a human tale, not only a well-known one, and behind the awards and the premieres is a figure who trained, waited, worked, failed, learned, and kept going. I expect the next chapters to be as courageous as the ones before them, because bravery practised for this long becomes a habit. Few performers manage all four of those things: the early promise, the earned turning point, the bold middle years, and the surprising later work, and that is the standard I apply. And if you have followed the career for years, the pleasure is varied but just as real: it is the pleasure of watching someone you trust stay in charge of their own story. Start with the big break, then go back, then observe the recent work in order, and you will understand why crowds keep returning. Most performers manage one or two great chapters, and the rest is a long echo, but here the work kept changing. So if you are discovering this performer for the first time, start with the big break, then go back to the early work, and then observe the recent projects in order, because you will see why the name still matters. I also think the journey will age well, because the performances that rely on honesty rather than fashion are the ones that survive, and the best work here relies on honesty. Finally, I want to note the simple pleasure of watching good work, because in a world full of noise, a portrayal that is true and unforced is a modest gift.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where was Javier Bardem born and how old is Javier Bardem?

Javier Bardem was born in 1969 in Las Palmas, Spain, which makes he 57 years old in 2026. Javier Bardem was born in 1969 in Las Palmas, in the Canary Islands, into a family of actors, the son of the actress Pilar Bardem and the brother of the actors Carlos and Mónica Bardem.

What is Javier Bardem best known for?

Javier Bardem is best known for Jamón Jamón, Before Night Falls, No Country for Old Men, Biutiful, Skyfall, Dune. These are the roles that most people mention first, and they show the range of the career, from the early work to the most recent projects.

What was Javier Bardem’s breakthrough role?

His breakthrough came in 1992, when he starred in Jamón Jamón, playing a passionate young man, and he became known internationally with Before Night Falls in 2000, where he played the Cuban poet Reinaldo Arenas. The role that changed everything was Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men in 2007, a terrifying hitman whose performance won him the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

Has Javier Bardem won any major awards?

Yes. The honours include an Academy Award for No Country for Old Men, a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, and a Cannes Best Actor award. The recognition has come from critics, festivals, and fellow performers, and it reflects a career built on consistent, serious work rather than a single lucky role.

What are Javier Bardem’s most famous movies and TV shows?

The most famous works include Jamón Jamón (1992), Before Night Falls (2000), No Country for Old Men (2007), Biutiful (2010), Skyfall (2012), Dune (2021), Dune: Part Two (2024). Together they give a good picture of the range of the career, and they are a good place to start for anyone discovering the work for the first time.

What is Javier Bardem doing now?

In recent years Bardem has taken on roles in film and television, including the Netflix series about the Menendez brothers, where he played the father, José Menendez. He continues to work in both Spain and America, and he has said that he is looking for roles that challenge him and that he has not played before.