Former Downton Abbey star Tom Cullen recalls "very fun" but "scary" experience on show

Why did you recently move from London back to Wales?

When you’ve got two kids [daughters aged two and four with his partner, actress/musician Alison Sudol], your world becomes smaller. The things I loved about London – its intensity, bars, gigs and theatre – I wasn’t able to do as much. I grew up in the mountains, swimming in rivers, and I had so much autonomy. My kids didn’t have that in London. Now, my elder daughter is about to go to Welsh school, so I’ve been learning the language. For the last ten years, I’ve had this real sense of hiraeth, a Welsh word for a yearning for where you’re from. Now I’m home, I feel calm again, like I can breathe.

Would you encourage your daughters to pursue creative careers?

I want them to do whatever makes them happy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one becomes an actress, and the other a musician. They’re showing early signs already! My parents [who worked at a theatre company in Llandrindod Wells, Powys] never earned a lot of money, but they never tried to put me off doing it. I saw how much joy a creative life brought them.

Does having a young family impact the jobs you take?

Before, I could film in Jordan or live in Prague for a year, and that was really exciting, but the focus shifts. It’s about making choices for my family now. I’m about to shoot a film in North Wales and they’re coming with me. I love being a father. It’s the most important part of my life – I don’t want to miss a second!

Is that why you joined Mudtown — to tell Welsh stories?

Wales has often been very underrepresented as part of the UK. Growing up, I’d see Welsh characters that were comedic or idiots, which was frustrating, but I feel like that’s no longer the case – Welsh TV is really shifting that.

In Mudtown, you star as crime boss Pete. Do you enjoy playing a baddie?

When I was offered the role, I didn’t understand why. Playing a villain or somebody with that darkness in them isn’t something that’s particularly natural to me and it scared me – but it’s a lot of fun. The creators believed I could do it, even though I didn’t.

When did you start to become more recognised for your work?

An arthouse film called Weekend [from 2011], directed by Andrew Haigh, changed my life, but Downton Abbey was a very specific experience. I joined it when it was winning Emmys and Golden Globes. It was very fun, but also scary. The lack of anonymity took a while to get my head around.

Do you find the publicity side of acting difficult?

Definitely. I went into acting because it was something I loved – I never went into it thinking I’d be famous. I’ve always been quite a private person. Being able to have a drink at the pub and nobody knowing who I am, but also getting to work on really fun projects, would be perfect for me.

You were kicked out of London’s Central School of Speech and Drama after a year and then graduated with a first-class honours degree from the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama. What kept you going?

At Central, the head of acting – who I’d never spoken to in my life – said, “This isn’t for you.” I remember thinking, “You’re wrong. You don’t know who the hell I am.” The teaching was just so bad – sometimes the teachers wouldn’t even turn up. I’d had a difficult time through my teenage years, and I had a lot of self-doubt. It could have really tipped me over the edge, but it put the fire in me, and that fire hasn’t gone out since.

You’re dyslexic — did that also make things hard?

For people who are neurodiverse, it takes incredible resilience to keep going in an academic system that is so archaic and does not cater to everybody. I went through school being told I wasn’t clever, and that’s just not true. I now work in an industry that requires an incredible amount of literacy. To anybody who is dyslexic – keep going. School shouldn’t define you. You’re brilliant and smart in your own way.

You’ve played a lot of vulnerable men — is that a conscious choice?

It’s something I try to bring into all my characters. There’s an epidemic of male suicide, and male mental health is at a crisis point. And there’s this alarming surge of misogynistic rhetoric coming from certain internet personalities. In my youth, I was probably an archetypal very masculine guy, so I’ve tried to work through my armour and be more vulnerable. As I’ve done that, I have access to happiness that I previously never had. Boys have this idea of masculinity shoved down their throats, and there’s so much pressure on them to uphold it, when inside they’re hurting. Male vulnerability, to me, is the ultimate strength.

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