by In the world of Hollywood, the first sign of overexposure is when other celebrities start asking you questions. Why, for example, is Best Actress winner and superstar Emma Stone constantly being asked about Taylor Swift? Why did Martin Scorsese always have to talk about superheroes? And why is Barry Keoghan’s bod on red carpets such a hot topic of conversation?
The surprise cameo was the Irish actor’s junk in a boldly posh Emerald Fennell clutch bag Saltburnlike the phallic equivalent of when Tom Cruise turned up Thunder Tropic. It also convinced people to lose their minds, which is surely the only explanation why Andrew Scott, an actor who is no real relation to Keoghan, was asked to share his thoughts expressed on the star’s wang on the red Bafta. carpet last week. “There was a lot of talk about prosthetics,” said BBC reporter Colin Paterson. “How well do you know him?” Scott scuttled away, mortified.
Keoghan couldn’t help but take center stage in that situation, but days later he took it upon himself: first when he was photographed Journal of W in pearl and latex gloves and clutching a Tesco bag for life. Then, within 24 hours, Vanity Fair they published a video of Keoghan dancing around nude again for their annual Hollywood issue. “Look he’s a talented guy but he needs to act normal for a few months,” read a viral tweet that summed up the weary sigh that followed. One newspaper also called him “the most famous celebrity in 2024”.
It’s not Keoghan’s fault that he’s popular. It’s not his fault that the media and the public don’t know how to tackle male sexuality on film without going completely insane, either. Nor is it his fault that banter and discourse have died down Saltburn ever since the public laid eyes on him. But the little dream that has surrounded the actor this week feels familiar, and speaks to the elusive nature of modern fame.
When we think of celebrity overexposure, we often think of women – and the likes of Anne Hathaway and Jennifer Lawrence have certainly had it worse in recent years. But famous men can attest to falling victim to it, too.
Anyone who was alive to experience the boom and bust of Jude Law in the mid-Noughties will recognize the pattern. A star is born. Hollywood casts them again and again in quick succession. The tabloids become intrigued by her personal life. It is the large number of subjects related to that star that causes the public to turn. “Who is Jude Law?” joked Chris Rock from the stage at the 2005 Oscars. “Why is he in every movie I’ve seen in the last four years?” Law later admitted that the gag had hurt him. It also clearly had an effect: the law backed off a bit immediately afterwards, avoiding major studio films for years.
Other male stars who have fallen into this trap include Ben Affleck and Tom Hiddleston. The first responded to his early Noughties, Jennifer Lopez-reveal helped by stepping back from film stardom and reinventing himself as a director. The latter has largely fallen off the fame radar – and probably by choice – since he spent the summer with a very good photo on Taylor Swift’s arm in 2016.
Keoghan is an interesting case study in that his youthful exuberance is unrelated to his personal life. He is said to be dating pop star Sabrina Carpenter, but she isn’t famous enough to make their joint venture happen. Instead he draws attention to being quite visibly chaotic – funny and odd, driving a character actor without a filter to leading man status.
It’s all the more remarkable because the bumper crop of modern twenty-something male superstars he’s part of – think Paul Mescal, Austin Butler, Harris Dickinson, Jacob Elordi or Charles Melton – are all ambiguous by comparison. They all have real chips and are very energetic on screen, but remove unrecognizable notes from the camera. Apparently, it looks like managers and publicists have learned their lessons over the past decade trying to apply to the likes of Taylor Kitsch, Scott Eastwood or Noah Centineo: work with uros instead of cap and cowl to spend, choose press instead of talk. for anyone with a dictaphone.
Keoghan sits somewhere in the middle. He’s working with auteurs – Andrea Arnold’s film is on the horizon – but he’s playing The Joker in The Batman. He is happy to be exposed on film, but also happy to pose in his underwear for the dating app Bumble. It takes pouty Chalamet-esque red carpet gender play seriously, but also fully embraces the silliness of sex, celebrity and the attention economy. Elordi recently got into a physical altercation with a disturbing joke that made fun of the sexiest things in Saltburn. Keoghan’s masa is more or less the internet’s collective screensaver by this point. It’s no doubt a more fun approach to fame, but let’s just say the mostly mercurial Elordi won’t have to worry about potential backlash anytime soon like Keoghan does.
If our relationship with the super-famous wasn’t a little less toxic, stars like Keoghan wouldn’t need to be warned about the risks of being too visible. But he’s also too interesting an actor – and too valuable to a largely anodyne cultural landscape – to burn out so quickly. I say this with a heavy heart, but: he should take a vacation. And maybe he’ll keep his pants on for a bit.
