From 'Gandhi' to 'Wonder Man,' Sir Ben Kingsley still sets the scene

Would you be nervous if you needed to call Sir Ben Kingsley - always "Sir Ben," you don't trifle with the title - and convince him to be in your movie?

You should be nervous. Destin Daniel Cretton would be the first to tell you that he was anxious when he dialed Kingsley at his London home to ask him if he might reprise the role of the washed-up, drug-addled actor Trevor Slattery, first seen in 2013's "Iron Man 3." Kingsley portrayed Slattery again the following year in a fun 14-minute short titled "All Hail the King," which explored the character's Shakespearean training and devoted relationship with his mother.

Cretton wanted Kingsley to play Slattery again in the 2021 Marvel movie, "Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings." He had an elaborate pitch, which he painstakingly rehearsed and refined. But once Kingsley answered the phone, Cretton went off script and started gushing, telling Kingsley what an honor it was to even be talking with him.

Kingsley cut him off.

"Let's get down to the nitty-gritty," Kingsley told him. And before Cretton could come back to his notes, Kingsley turned the tables and began grilling him. "What do you know about Liverpool?" he asked, testing Cretton's knowledge of Slattery's hometown. "How far back do you go with British comedy?" Cretton started to answer the queries, but was then interrupted by another voice.

It was Trevor Slattery. More precisely, it was Kingsley performing Slattery, sounding like he was shouting from another room. And he was angry, berating Kingsley for giving Cretton a hard time and proclaiming how much he wanted to be in this new movie.

"Very quickly, I realized how much he loves this character," Cretton says, by way of telling me that the next time he asked Kingsley to play Slattery, for the new Marvel TV series "Wonder Man," the call was short and, of course, the answer was yes.

I met Kingsley on the Disney lot shortly before a recent Emmy FYC event for "Wonder Man." We sat together on opposite ends of a ratty sofa in an empty writer's office. Offered a bottle of water, Kingsley asks for a glass, explaining he doesn't want to dribble on the sharp suit he's wearing for the upcoming event. I can't picture Sir Ben Kingsley dribbling. At 82, he sits with perfect posture, possessing an elegance that transcends our threadbare surroundings.

Like Cretton, I come with notes. And like Cretton, I partake in something that is more of a performance than a conversation.

"Wonder Man" follows a struggling actor, Simon Williams (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), trying to land a big break in Hollywood while keeping his superpowers hidden. Trevor befriends Simon. Initially he has ulterior motives, but soon becomes Simon's mentor, turning the series into a look at the indignities that actors face while pursuing their profession. Topping the list: the cruelty of auditions.

Were you good at reading for roles? I ask Kingsley.

"That's a tough question to answer because I haven't auditioned for many decades," Kingsley replies. "From my first job, I have been handed my next job by mentors and very affectionate hands."

No auditions since joining the Royal Shakespeare Company in 1967? Not even for the title role in "Gandhi"? I know that director Richard Attenborough cast Kingsley after trying to make the movie for 20 years, with Alec Guinness, Richard Burton, Dustin Hoffman and John Hurt being considered for the part. How did Kingsley, with only one movie credit, prevail?

Kingsley launches into the story, first taking me to the pandemonium of performing in the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of "The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby," where on opening night, in between costume changes from Wackford Squeers to Wagstaff, a voice rang out in the tunnel of his dressing room: "Ben Kingsley wanted at the stage door now."

Kingsley pantomimes resisting repeated entreaties amid the cacophony. He can't be distracted by a call. It's his "oxygen time." He needs to focus. But it's impossible.

"Finally, I go up the stairs, pick up the phone," Kingsley remembers. "'Ben, it's Richard Attenborough.' Stand to attention. 'Listen, I have the money for "Gandhi," and my son Michael tells me I must see you.' 'Yes, sir.' 'Can I see you tomorrow?' 'Yes, sir.'"

Kingsley went to Attenborough's home in Richmond the next day. And Attenborough ("What a gracious man," Kingsley says) had a big book of photos of Gandhi on a table. "Have a look at those, darling," the filmmaker told him. Kingsley put the book on his lap and turned the pages. As Kingsley tells the story, he mimes methodically making his way through the enormous volume.

"And all he did was watch me," Kingsley says, holding my gaze, pausing for effect. Nearly half a century later, the day remains fresh in his mind and he relishes conveying it in all of its detail.

So, no, Kingsley doesn't have much experience auditioning.

Cretton and Andrew Guest, the "Wonder Man" showrunners, note Kingsley's thorough attention to detail in creating Trevor's backstory, which was anchored by his relationship with his mother, Dorothy, a Liverpool nurse who had "unwavering faith" in his talent.

"It was important to me because I feel that if there is an indifference toward a child's development and an indifference toward a child's blossoming, it's a tragedy," Kingsley says.

Over the years, Kingsley has expressed hurt over how his own mother, actor Anna Lyna Mary Goodman, never acknowledged his acting talent or childhood achievements. "Part of what was interesting to him about Trevor Slattery was how different he felt Trevor was in so many ways," Guest says.

Was the childhood that Kingsley created for Trevor the one he wished he had?

"Dorothy was in fact a nurse that I did know in Yorkshire. She worked with survivors of World War II and obviously saw some terrible things. I remember her as being," Kingsley pauses, his voice turning warm, "solid and kind." Another beat. "Then I extrapolated that she was that kind of down-to-earth, North of England mum who was supportive and encouraging. So that was Trevor's debt to that generation, and to his mom, and I enjoyed playing it very immensely. I enjoyed the possibility of passing that sentiment on to the audience, that if one does have a parent like that, one is fortunate. And if one doesn't, one is challenged." Another pause. "And you rise to the challenge."

And you rose to the challenge?

"I did," Kingsley answers.

Two of Kingsley's four children, his younger sons, Ferdinand and Edmund, became actors, a decision their father endorsed with his whole heart. Kingsley loves to tell the story of seeing them perform in Shakespeare's "Henry IV, Part 1" and afterward, bursting with pride, hugging them so hard that he "fractured their ribs."

But that same day he saw something that still haunts him, a scene Kingsley relates with gravity and astonishment.

"I was waiting at the dressing room doors," Kingsley says, "and I saw this lovely, what Shakespeare calls a 'shining morning face' in 'The Seven Ages of Man,' this lovely little apple of a child leaving the dressing room, having played Shakespeare onstage, and walking toward his mother, and his mother said, 'Get your coat.'"

Kingsley looks at me, gauging if I've grasped the heartbreak of the moment. He doesn't speak again for 15 seconds. It feels longer.

"You don't do that," he finally says, his voice hushed. "You've stopped something growing. You've nipped it in the bud. You'll never get it back, that moment, that shining morning face coming through the door."

Kingsley's first job as an actor was performing Shakespeare in schools. He was 20 and remembers his stint as a "miracle." He had never uttered Shakespeare's words onstage, and there was a woman with the theater company, "very pregnant, very beautiful," Kingsley remembers, who told him he would someday become a "great classical actor."

"Of course I took it as an enormous compliment, but as the years have gone by, I understand that she was saying you've got something in you and you're going to have to work so hard," Kingsley says. "To be a great classical actor is backbreakingly hard work because you can only do that through classical theater, and you can only do that through the governor, Shakespeare. But bless her, she was wonderful." Kingsley smiles and circles back to his Gandhi story. "She saw the pages turning."

This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.

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This story was originally published June 17, 2026 at 3:14 AM.