The star of the Venom movies and Mad Max: Fury Road was supposed to be the next Brando. He’s turned out to be something else entirely.
I wasn’t always a Tom Hardy fan. In fact, I used to find him baffling—his voice often unintelligible, his performances steeped in grunts and growls, and his characters either masked, mumbling, or both. But something shifted. Somewhere between The Dark Knight Rises and Peaky Blinders, I realized Hardy doesn’t act like other leading men—he transforms. And once I stopped trying to make sense of him, I began to admire the glorious chaos.
Take Havoc, Gareth Evans’ latest Netflix bloodbath, where Hardy plays a detective punching and shooting his way through waves of corruption and violence. It’s an exhausting and unflinching film—one that makes The Raid look tame—but Hardy is magnetic. He’s chosen yet another “Funny Accent” (this time, a squeaky New Yorker that sounds like De Niro on helium) and combines it with his usual toolkit: downcast eyes, grunted subtext, wild stares, and that devilish grin that makes you unsure whether to laugh or duck. It’s strange. It’s weird. And, somehow, it works.
Hardy’s acting style is often labeled self-indulgent, and I used to agree. The strange voices, the prosthetics, the refusal to hold eye contact—it all felt like a performance about performance. But the more I watched, the more I saw the method in his madness. His Brando-esque quirks aren’t lazy; they’re calculated. His characters don’t just speak—they leak emotion through body language, tension, and vulnerability. He doesn’t beg to be liked; he dares you to look closer.
Whether he’s disappearing into the role of a MMA fighter in Warrior, a one-man show in Locke, or a post-apocalyptic wanderer in Mad Max: Fury Road, Hardy brings a physicality and unpredictability that feels utterly alive. You’re never quite sure what he’ll do next—and that’s his power.
Initially, I tried to turn down the task of writing about him. I didn’t get the hype. But then I remembered what I tell my students: when you feel the most judgmental, be curious instead. So I rewatched his films, studied his choices, and allowed myself to get it. Tom Hardy may not care whether you like him—but once you stop worrying about understanding him, you might just start loving him.
