Ethan Hawke Is Always Chasing the Feeling of Being Lee Raybon

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By the end of the series The Lowdown, Ethan Hawke’s character, Lee Raybon, has to face the consequences of his actions and admit he wasn’t always right. Lee, who acts as an investigator and journalist, started out trying to solve the death of someone from a prominent Tulsa family, but realizes his investigation caused significant damage. His carelessness leads to the death of an elderly Indigenous man, portrayed by Graham Greene, and ultimately, Lee doesn’t get to reveal the full truth or take credit for solving the mystery.

Ethan Hawke sees a lot of himself in his character, Lee. Like Lee, he gets deeply bothered by injustice and constantly wrestles with balancing his own desires with the well-being of those he cares about. Both men are fathers who contemplate how their search for truth impacts their children, and they share a fascination with art, genuineness, and understanding the world. This similarity is even apparent in a small moment during their conversation – when Hawke goes to get a toothpick. While Lee would have grabbed whatever was handy, Hawke jokingly admits he’s become particular about a specific, fancy brand he received at an event. He laughs at his own dependence on them, calling it ‘stupid’ but acknowledging he’s come to love them.

Ethan Hawke has been very busy this fall. He says playing Lorenz Hart, a troubled songwriter, in the new Richard Linklater film, Blue Moon, was the most different role he’s ever taken on. But his character in the series The Lowdown feels much more natural to him, reflecting who he is and who he wants to be. Hawke was excited to work with his friend Sterlin Harjo again – the creator of The Lowdown and previously Reservation Dogs – after enjoying the creative energy and community he found in Tulsa while filming Reservation Dogs. He describes the atmosphere on set as a fun, collaborative party, where everyone was genuinely enjoying themselves. He appreciates that the work felt driven by passion and a desire to connect with the audience, rather than simply trying to make money – something he finds refreshing in today’s entertainment landscape.

In another interview, you said Sterlin Harjo shared the script for Lowdown with you, initially asking for your feedback on the writing. You admitted you were actually frustrated because you hoped to play the role yourself. What specifically drew you to the character of Lee Raybon? It’s that Lee feels stuck in the 1990s, and I connect with that. I have a fondness for the things I grew up with – bookstores, record shops, independent magazines – and the feeling they represent. I’m drawn to the idea of someone who values art purely for its own sake, not for fame or money.

I was reading a biography of Sam Shepard, and there was this incredible story about his first Broadway play. His friends actually kidnapped him and took him to Atlantic City because they didn’t want him to become a typical ‘Broadway writer.’ It reminded me of his general attitude – he famously didn’t bother to pick up his Pulitzer Prize or attend the Oscars. I grew up around that kind of thinking – the idea that the pursuit of money and fame is ultimately artificial, and you shouldn’t participate in it.

The character Lee struggles with how his life choices impact his teenage daughter. As an actor, I connected with that because of my friendship with the director, Sterlin. Good personal work often comes from exploring your own hidden fears and uncertainties. Sterlin faced that early in his career – he wasn’t sure filmmaking could be a stable job, which created a conflict between his passions and societal expectations. He asked himself, ‘How can I encourage someone to pursue their dreams if I’m not brave enough to follow my own?’ But then he worried about the financial responsibility he had to his child if he took that risk.

I experienced that firsthand. Being an actor isn’t what you expect when you’re young and eager to pursue it. I didn’t realize how much travel would be involved. It’s hard to build a stable, secure family life when your life is constantly in motion. It felt like I was facing a difficult choice: should I abandon my acting career, or could I find a way to be a good parent without completely sacrificing my dreams?

I’ve noticed a recurring theme in your work about fatherhood and how a father impacts his children. I believe that in compelling genre stories, the plot – whether it’s action, mystery, or anything else – truly matters only when it affects the characters emotionally. In the case of The Lowdown, the core of the story isn’t the mystery itself, but Lee’s journey to become a better person when he attends his ex-wife’s wedding. The show offers a fascinating take on modern masculinity, and it taps into a national conversation about how men can positively influence the next generation – how can men be strong, honest, courageous, and contribute to society while still embracing their individuality? These are the qualities we all strive for, regardless of gender. While this applies to both men and women, the show specifically explores this through Lee’s character.

This storyline ties into the fifth episode of The Lowdown, featuring Peter Dinklage as Wendell, a long-time friend of the main character. The episode explores how both men are grappling with the harm they’ve caused others and how that relates to their ideas about masculinity. We were curious how much of this was planned from the beginning and how Dinklage became involved. The show’s creator, Sterlin, initially envisioned a noir story set in Tulsa, inspired by his mentor, Leroy Chapman. He wondered what would happen if he placed a character like Chapman into a classic film noir like Chinatown or The Long Goodbye. From there, they developed themes around male sensitivity – specifically, how it’s often seen as weakness and how that can lead to self-hatred and vulnerability. Exploring male friendship became essential to telling that story, and the final article Lee writes in the show is called “The Sensitive Kind,” focusing on these ideas.

I was driving across the country when I was around 20 years old, really focused on acting. A friend of mine, a fantastic playwright named Jonathan Marc Sherman, told me he wanted me to meet what he considered the best actor of our generation. I was skeptical, but curious. Peter, the actor, was performing a Beckett play at a college in Vermont. We arrived around midnight, and I’ll never forget the sight. The car headlights caught this figure, and he had incredibly long hair that trailed behind him on the ground. That’s when I asked, “That’s the best actor of our generation?” My friend simply said, “Yep, get ready.”

I had a nagging feeling Peter was helping us out of kindness. I’d directed him in a play ages ago, and we’d done countless workshops together – we move in the same social circles, but had never actually filmed anything together. Sterlin suggested pausing the show to focus on the theme of friendship, and kept mentioning Peter Dinklage. I immediately loved the idea and offered to text him right away.

It’s been heartbreaking to lose friends, especially those from our theater days in the nineties. Our characters often mirrored the struggles we were facing in our own lives. After three decades in the arts, you inevitably encounter addiction, loss, and depression, and see how differently people cope with being sensitive. Some build walls to protect themselves. Working with him on those scenes felt significant – it wasn’t just a quick appearance, but a real acting opportunity, and he fully committed to it.

As a film critic, I was deeply touched to see Graham Greene in this series, especially knowing he passed away earlier this fall. Working with him was bittersweet; he didn’t seem old at all, and was incredibly playful, a joy to improvise with, and full of fascinating stories about his life. I’ve always been a fan – I was the right age when Dances With Wolves came out, and Thunderheart was a standout for me, so seeing him in Reservation Dogs felt like a real gift. That show had such a beautiful ending, and getting to share scenes with him was a dream come true. It’s hard to believe it was his final performance, because he didn’t feel like someone nearing the end of their career. I honestly expected he’d be tackling King Lear next! He was one of those actors who constantly had ideas, but they were always focused on what was best for the project, always asking, ‘Would this make the show better?’

The show cleverly explores the complexity of Lee’s character. While he’s presented as the hero, by the end of episode seven, he’s so focused on solving the land mystery that he’s willing to harm innocent people. There’s even a scene where he’s holding a gun in a church full of white supremacists, clearly portraying him as the antagonist in that moment.

What’s really insightful is the director Sterlin’s approach. He brings a unique and quirky style to the show, a distinctive voice that sets it apart. Ultimately, Lee does achieve something positive, but he also makes serious mistakes with devastating consequences. I appreciate how the show avoids simple portrayals; characters like Killer Mike’s and even the white supremacist mother are surprisingly complex and multi-faceted. Sterlin refuses to paint in broad strokes – he creates fully realized, three-dimensional people.

Jeanne Tripplehorn‘s character is really complex. She’s struggling with a lot, trying to hold her family together while facing problems from untrustworthy people. And Donald Washberg, played by Kyle MacLachlan, is interesting because he’s both villainous and sympathetic – he seems like he’s just reacting to his circumstances. That mix of complicated characters is what I find so compelling about the show.

He’s definitely playful with the show’s mood, skillfully balancing serious moments with comedy. A lot of that came from improvisation on set, and I’m curious how much was planned versus discovered during filming. Actually, most of it happens on set. The actor, Sterlin, gets restless if a scene feels predictable. He’s drawn to the unpredictable, messy reality of life – the way things rarely follow a neat story arc – and he always makes sure to capture that. It’s almost like he writes a script as a starting point, then intentionally disrupts it to make it feel more authentic.

One of the things I enjoy most about working on the show is collaborating with Sterlin. We initially connected as writers, and our friendship grew from a shared writing project. We both were fascinated by the Apache Wars, and during a conversation, we debated the best way to approach telling that story. We ultimately decided to write it together, and I was really impressed by his creative process. He’s a master of genre and loves to surprise audiences by taking familiar tropes and twisting them in unexpected ways.

The question of who gets to share their version of events is really central to the story, isn’t it? And yeah, Lee definitely has a big ego – absolutely.

The story Lee ultimately writes isn’t what he initially intended. It’s heavily influenced by reality and represents a real compromise. He doesn’t expose Donald as he’d planned; instead, he finds a way to secure the land by avoiding that confrontation. A key lesson for Lee is the value of compromise. He’s a bit like Don Quixote, pursuing an idealistic goal, but he realizes he’ll fail if he tries to do it alone. He learns that sometimes you have to be pragmatic, even if it means losing a small battle to achieve a larger victory.

As an artist, a big part of my work is figuring out how to balance my own creative vision with what audiences actually want. It’s a constant learning process – how do you make compromises and still stay true to yourself? Honestly, it feels like a core part of growing up.

It’s interesting that John Brown in The Good Lord Bird struggles with the same issue those ’90s kids we discussed earlier faced – how much to compromise your beliefs. Do you actively seek out characters like that, or do those roles tend to find you? It’s a bit of both, really. It often feels like the universe is trying to tell us something. It’s about being open to those signs and understanding how they apply to you. Can you recognize the guidance you’re receiving? It’s like a river – if you move with it, things flow smoothly. But if you fight against it, you feel powerless. It’s about finding a balance between trusting your gut, staying true to your values, and working well with others.

Sterlin and I started collaborating on our first script right after I finished The Good Lord Bird. He was a big fan of that show, and I really enjoyed Reservation Dogs. We quickly realized we had a similar creative vision and a strong connection.

Sterlin, like Linklater before him, has shown me the power of humor. It’s a way to keep grand ideas grounded and avoid taking yourself too seriously. If you can’t laugh at your own ambitions, you’ll struggle to make them work.

Will there be a second season? We approached the show like a classic pulp novel, and it would be simple to create another story with the same character. We worked with Walter Mosley, who’s known for his Easy Rawlins series—some characters reappear, and some don’t—and we wanted this season to feel complete, even if it’s the only one. It has a clear beginning, middle, and end with a strong message. While it would be easy to continue the story, whether we get the chance depends on viewership. A lot of effort went into establishing the show’s style and world, and I’m eager to do it again, potentially even better next time.

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2025-11-05 18:59