I
n It: Welcome to Derry, HBO’s prequel series to Stephen King’s epic about a demonic, shape-shifting clown, violence erupts as quickly and as naturavlly as flowers in spring. Hands are sawn off, throats are slit, eyeballs bulge like bloody balloons. But in the midst of the grotesquerie is a grounding, magnetic force: Chris Chalk. In the series, the actor plays a young Dick Hallorann, a cold soldier who uses his telekinetic powers to track down Pennywise for the nefarious purposes of the U.S. military. His powers make him emotionally isolated, coolly adrift in his own mind. Hallorann is the moody outsider, tortured by the dead spirits who crowd his thoughts, speaking only in haunting monologues or not really speaking at all.
This dramatic version of Halloran was “a surprise,” the classically trained actor, 44, says with a laugh in a Zoom interview. In King’s oeuvre, Hallorann primarily exists in The Shining as an elder, charismatic chef who is fully in control of his titular telekinetic powers (and most famously played by the aura-rich Scatman Crothers in Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation).
“He’s such a kind figure in everyone’s brain,” Chalk says, sitting catty-cornered in a black hoodie in the Bed-Stuy home he shares with his wife, actor and producer K.D. Chalk. “Everyone wants this — I don’t want to say Magical Negro, but [he] is a Magical Negro. And that’s not interesting to me at all.”
For Chalk, nuanced characters with complex layers are par for the course. He’s made a name as one of television’s most devastatingly talented period actors, delivering standout performances in everything from HBO’s noir Perry Mason reboot to FX’s Feud: Capote vs. The Swans, in which he plays James Baldwin. His roles are knotty and conscious, characteristics that extend to Welcome to Derry, which centers much of its story on the Black residents of Derry, Maine, and how they deal with the overt racism of 1962. For Chalk, that was one of the selling points of joining the series when he first got the scripts. “I went, ‘Oh, shit — this is a drama.’”
In a wide-ranging conversation, Chalk goes deep on Season One’s plot twists and turns, Dick’s fate in the finale, and what Season Two may hold. He also gets real about his personal journey, including the “good trauma” that shaped his worldview and the life-changing moment he had with good friend Philip Seymour Hoffman.
The following contains spoilers for Season One of ‘It: Welcome to Derry.‘
You were a Stephen King fan before you got cast in Welcome to Derry. How did you get introduced to his work?
My mother. There was always a Stephen King book between her two fingers and her thumb, and then it moved to Dean Koontz when she got older. Those were the books that were around the house.
How old were you?
Seven-ish, eight-ish for the first one. I didn’t finish The Shining because I remember getting scared and then, maybe 11-ish, I started to get serious about reading in general. So somewhere in between those years I traumatized myself by reading Stephen King.
That’s shockingly young! What exactly was the first piece of horror that traumatized you?
Candyman! Reading Candyman terrified me, then watching it terrified me. He looked like me. Like, Freddy Krueger? I’m good. He ain’t getting in my hood. Jason [from Friday the 13th]? I’m not going to Jersey, so I’m good. But there was something about Candyman that properly undid me. The fact that you could call the entity by mistake from anywhere. I was 13 and then I took a big break from reading horror stuff.
What brought you back?
It’s just a part of me. We grew up going to horror movies, [especially] for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When other people would go see the big Christmas movie, we’d watch terrible stuff — Bloody Birthday, Truth or Dare? I remember there was a scene where somebody put a grenade in their mouth in Truth or Dare? As an adult I’m like, “Why did my mom let me watch this?”
Did you ever ask her why?
No, because I know my mom was always doing her best, so I’m careful what we discuss. And horror is not that big a deal to me.
Right, and look now.
Yeah! Thanks, Mom!
After you were cast as Dick Hallorann, did you get to meet Stephen King?
No. It’d be cool to meet him, just like it’s always cool to meet people who are masters of their craft. But I didn’t feel it was imperative for work. But I will tell you on the day I meet him, I’m going to be pretty gassed up.
What would you ask him about?
Oh, I’m so careful around celebrity people to not talk about work ever.
You’re like, “He’s just a guy.”
Well, they are just people. Some of us just happen to be on TV. What about the people that build roads? That’s impressive, dude. I was good friends with Phil Hoffman when I was young in New York at the LAByrinth Theater Company. He was the artistic director for a while. I remember watching other actors come up to him and try to talk about acting and he would turn inwards.
There is something cringe-inducing about that.
Yeah. It’s like, are we really talking about it? If we’re really talking about it, let’s go sit up at the library and talk about the history of it, because I went to school for acting. I’m not a casual actor.
You teach as well, right?
Yeah. I say “coach” because I’m in a phase where I’m like, “Can you teach acting?” [Laughs.] Just a nerdy philosophy. I don’t think I’m teaching. I’m revealing to people what they already have in themselves.
On the theme of coaching, was there an experience you had with Phil that revealed something to you about acting?
Come on with these questions! Yes! When I was a reader, they were doing Our Lady of 121st Street. I’m way too young for it, but I was like, “Can I audition, Phil?” And he was like [perfectly mimicking Hoffman’s voice], “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure.” It was a little dismissive. But I knew he had started to respect me. And when he was directing auditions, he gave every single person 20 minutes. Everybody that auditioned with him was better when they left.
I did my audition and he said, “Chris. That was brilliant. I don’t use that word a lot, but I’m really going to have to consider you now. And I wasn’t going to before.” Man, I felt over the moon! Because I wasn’t working a lot. I was a reader, I was a stage manager, I was an assistant director. I don’t think I had done any TV at that point. It was really affirming to have someone who was undeniably talented see me at all.
He’s so right — your performance in Welcome to Derry is stunning. Obviously we know how Dick’s story goes, but you’re getting this rare opportunity to play him at an early stage in life. What surprised you about where his story begins?
Everything was a surprise. I was surprised he wasn’t nice because he’s such a kind figure in everyone’s brain. And everybody wants this — I don’t want to say Magical Negro version [of Dick], but it is a Magical Negro version. That’s not interesting to me at all. But I knew from the audition that it wasn’t going to be that.
People have made the case that Dick is a kind of prototypical Magical Negro in King’s oeuvre, but what’s amazing about this adaptation is there are so many Black characters.
Yeah, it’s hard to be a Magical Negro when you got 30 Black people!
I imagine for Black hardcore Stephen King fans, it has to be very cathartic. Was it cathartic for you?
It was nice. America’s America, so the racists are going to let you know they don’t want no niggas in their stuff. They’re going to let you know. I don’t read posts and shit like that, but [co-star] Jovan [Adepo] does. He would hit me up and be like, “Man, they hate that we in this! They can’t stand Black people!” I said, “Baby, don’t worry about it. We’re going to do good work. We’re going to have a good time. Stay off the internet, bro.” There is something cool about going to work on a Stephen King thing where I’ve never traditionally seen very many Black people.
Let’s dig into some episode-specific questions, starting with Episode Five, when your character goes into the tunnels to find the pillars that can destroy Pennywise. I imagine there’s something uniquely grueling about being in a sewer set that’s wet and dark and you’re doing emotionally tricky stuff. And then you get in the dunk tank where Dick gets transported to his grandparents.
That episode shot over lots and lots of days. I almost drowned once [prior to filming Derry], so I told Emmanuel [Osei-Kuffour], who was directing that episode, “This is cool and I’m mentally sane, but I can’t promise I’m not going to freak out.” I don’t go into 10 feet of water in my daily life, but I’m going to try. I’m going to try until I lose it, until I snap, until I break. Luckily I didn’t break, but I remember the day when Dick jumps through the threshold of reality and goes into the pool was intense. My wife was there. The awesome scuba cameras and underwater choreography were quite intense. To act while trying to survive requires very little effort [laughs].
The scene where you’re trapped with the ghost of your abusive grandfather and he forces you to open the lockbox that traps the spirits that haunt you is really wrenching. And then it leads to Episode Six, where you’re explaining the lore of the lockbox. It’s a beautiful and haunting performance. Was it always the plan for you to just sit and deliver that monologue?
After he opens that box, Dick’s done. He’s running on fumes and he’s desperately trying to drink himself and drug himself into reality instead of being lost in seeing all the dead people. I always felt like he’s too tired and scared to move. I tend to like to be still and quiet, and I was allowed to do so. I got some good trauma eyes because I got some good trauma [laughs]. Can I tell you about the other scene in that room? It’s my favorite scene.
Yeah, let’s do it. You’re talking about the scene that opens the final episode where Dick threatens to kill himself, and then almost kills Leroy.
My favorite thing that has ever happened in my entire career. There’s very few times I’ve been asked to use my full emotional range. So I had to get into the space. I called Jason [Fuchs, showrunner] and said, “Hey, can we make sure the set is chill and that we’re not going to be changing the script? Please? I’m not trying to be that dude, but this has to be about what me and Jovan are doing.” And he said, “Yeah, I got you.”
It was a three o’clock [a.m.] call time. I got to work. Jason comes into the makeup trailer and goes, “Chris, Andy [Muschietti, the co-creator and episode director] changed the script.” And I said, “No. I’m not doing it.” Because I was already broken a bit. I was in the place I needed to be. Every day can’t be changing the scripts when we’ve worked so incredibly hard on manifesting this reality. That was my stance, that was my soapbox. Then Jovan came in and said, “Dog, just read it.” I said, “Nah.” He said, “Chris — it’s what we asked for two weeks ago.”
You guys had asked for specific line changes?
We had asked for it to become a little more human. It didn’t feel as grounded as we eventually made it. I read it and it was good. Then I went to set. Andy was there. They were getting ready for rehearsal. Andy saw me sitting in my little corner getting ready and said, “Are you OK, Chalko?” That’s what he calls me, Chalko. And I said, “Honestly, Andy, man, I don’t want to talk about this. I just want to do it.” And he said OK. Oh my god, I could cry still. It really touched my heart. We never rehearsed a single thing. They shot the scene and let us play. And the crew whispered. We’re not a whisper group. We laugh, we have a good time, but they whispered and supported us in a very real and uncommon way. When we finished shooting that scene, I wept. I just felt like, “Oh my gosh. I asked for what I wanted and got it.”
It makes sense why the performance feels so raw to watch.
It was allowed to be raw, which is what I wanted. The barracks became my favorite place to work. I felt so well taken care of, so seen. And nobody took it personally. That was my fear, because we’re such a good-time crew, but we all got to have boundaries for our artistic stuff.
Let’s talk about the Black Spot episode, where their private club is firebombed. I was curious to see how it would be handled, and I was also fascinated to see [Oscar-winning screenwriter] Cord Jefferson listed as one of the co-writers and producers on that episode. That was a signal to me that it would be taken very seriously.
We had been prepped for that episode because of the choreography and the number of departments having to work together. [In] my journal, I have pages of lighting notes, blocking notes. There were dancers, stuntees, fire units. Everything about that scene is wonderful to me because we all worked so well together.
For Dick, the only thing he’s looking for is peace. The Black Spot was supposed to be his peace. And then to have that happen there? Early in the show when they first get there, Dick kind of looks around. Did Dick know it was going to happen? When I see [that scene] now, it looks like this dude knows this shit is doomed. And in my interpretation of Dick, he feels like he brings all the trauma. He feels like it’s his fault. He feels unlovable. He wonders if he can have a family. That’s why he’s so attached to Leroy and Charlotte and Will. So I think that’s a culmination of all the things he loves falling apart in his fucking face. What a fun thing to get to play with.
If we were to get one more scene with Dick in the finale after the credits rolled, what would you want to see?
I want a whole show. I don’t think he’s better at the end of Derry. I think he’s just starting to realize how fucked up he is and how not in control of his power he is. By the time he gets to the Overlook [in The Shining], he’s got to have proper control over that. This dude just opened the box. So I see a whole show. Maybe in New Orleans. Imagine the haunting, imagine the Blackness, imagine the music. It’s like Treme, but add Stephen King on top of it. Or go to the U.K., or go to Paris. He’s such a great person to navigate. How many times does he get screwed in order to become the person we know? What happens with the love of his life? In my imagination, he’s called back somewhere by the love of his life and she dies and he blames himself. Dick is so toxic just by having that power. How can you love somebody? How can somebody love you if you can read their mind? How can somebody love you if you can’t tell them you can read their mind? This dude is trapped.
That’s a perfect dilemma if we were to continue following Dick.
Season Two is going back 27 years before Season One, so Dick’s not there. But he could be, because he can travel on the psychic plane. The thing about Dick is he can be wherever in the Stephen King universe, because his brain can be in any reality.
Dick could be present in Season Two.
Could be. No one’s told me that. This is just my thought. Well, maybe we did talk about that once. It’s not likely, but it’s possible. But I don’t know if that’s real or if I’m imagining that conversation.
Scatman Crothers, who played Dick in The Shining, was very casual about the fact that the movie ending is totally different from the book ending for Dick. He’s killed in the movie and he lives in the book.
Kubrick did whatever he wanted to do.
Now that you’ve played him and you’re deep in the lore, do you view the ending of The Shining film any differently?
Oh, no. Not my business. When I read The Shining and saw that was the truth, I thought that’s what they do. [Laughs.]
They. [Laughs.]
That’s what I thought. But it didn’t matter to me. It doesn’t affect me or my job on It: Welcome to Derry one bit. I got a whole life I got to take personally. I can’t take that personally, too.
I wanted to go back to something you said earlier, in this interview and in other interviews. You’ve jovially mentioned you have “good trauma” and that is something that you use.
Well, I don’t use it, it’s just part of me. I’m really against acting as therapy. That’s not our job. I went to school and worked with a lot of people who used it as therapy. You can hurt other people that way. I’m not into my process affecting another human being or being irresponsible in that way, but I have been through a lot. I’ve been raising my nephew since I was 11. My dad was not around. Everybody died. Everybody. My uncle at 25, [another] uncle at 30, my aunt at 40, my dad at 52.
I’ve had a lot of adult experiences at a young age, and luckily, I can talk to you now about it because of healing and processing and the way my brain works. I think it’s important to talk about, because I don’t want anybody, in particular little Black boys, to think that it’s their fault. That’s just life. That’s what happens. And you get help and you deal with it. But it’s not our fault that people took advantage of us sweet little boys and little girls. As victims, why are we blaming ourselves? It has nothing to do with us.
First of all, I’m so sorry that any of those things happened to you, because nobody deserves any of those things.
Nobody deserves any of these things! But I do feel like I’m the lucky one in that I have a job that requires me to fix myself. To be able to do this job well, in my opinion, one must know themselves and then know their characters as well as they know themselves. I’m so grateful for my trauma. I know my people. I see the people that did things to me and what their lives look like and how they never talked about it and how they never opened up about it and how they never forgave themselves. And I can see what could have happened to me, which is become a fucking misogynist who abuses women, who hates himself, who drinks and does drugs. I come from very poor people in Asheville, North Carolina. You can see slavery on my people. We’re not super educated. We’re amazing, we’re super smart, but just not traditionally educated. I’m the anomaly of my family.
The fact that your career is what helped you deal with your life — those two things going hand in hand is really rare.
Yeah. Building characters allowed me to take my life less personally.
I appreciate you talking about all of this. I wanted to open that door.
Oh yeah, I love it. I ain’t got no secrets, girl!
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
