SPOTLIGHT: SIMON HALL

ACTOR

DIRECTOR

CASTING DIRECTOR

PRODUCER

BIO:

SIMON HALL: is a seasoned actor, director, producer, and casting director known for his commanding on‑screen presence and instinct for complex, hard‑edged characters. His career spans appearances in some of Britain’s most iconic television dramas, including like EastEnders.

He has taken on a range of gritty, challenging film roles, and more than lived up to them. Simon also portrayed Mr. Shelby in Peaky Blinders: The Blackbox Bar, which he also produced.

With his intense look, energy, and cinematic presence, Simon Hall feels like a natural fit for Steven Knight’s film world—both on screen and across his online persona. An impressive actor who we will be seeing much more of in 2026.

Q&A

DG Q: What was the spark that first ignited your journey into the realm of acting—the genesis of your artistic calling? 

SH: My journey into acting didn’t begin with a single dramatic moment, but rather through immersion in the filmmaking world itself. Having spent several years working behind the scenes in film, I developed a deep appreciation for performance and storytelling from the inside out. Being so close to the creative process—watching actors shape characters and bring scripts to life—naturally drew me toward exploring that craft personally.

What began as professional curiosity evolved into a genuine artistic calling. Acting became another way to serve the story, informed by a strong understanding of production, collaboration, and the discipline the industry demands. It felt like a natural progression rather than a departure—an extension of my commitment to cinema and meaningful storytelling.

DG Q: Across your career, you’ve brought a wide range of characters to life on screen. In ‘Veil of Silence’, Mike Davies’ upcoming psychological film that is enjoying huge festival success across the UK and Europe, you take on a particularly demanding lead role as Thomas Greene. Could you share what drew you to this character and the journey that led you to be cast? 

SH:

Thomas Greene was a role that immediately stood out to me because of its restraint and psychological depth. What drew me in wasn’t overt violence or spectacle, but the quiet unease of the character—the sense that something is fractured beneath the surface long before it’s ever spoken aloud. Thomas is controlled, measured, and seemingly ordinary, which makes his inner darkness far more unsettling. That kind of subtle psychological work is exactly what I’m drawn to as an actor.

The journey to being cast was very organic. Having already been working within the film industry, the conversations around The Veil of Silence felt rooted in trust and a shared understanding of tone and intention. Mike Davies was very clear

about who Thomas Greene needed to be—not a caricature, not a monster on display, but a man slowly unravelling. That approach aligned strongly with how I like to work.

It wasn’t about “playing” a killer, but about inhabiting a man whose silence, trauma, and repression shape every decision he makes. That challenge—carrying so much internally and letting it bleed through in controlled, believable ways—is what ultimately made Thomas Greene a role I couldn’t walk away from.

DG Q: By order of the Peaky Blinders: Who are the true Peaky Blinders lookalikes? As the producer of Peaky Blinders: The BlackBox Bar, can you tell us more about them?

SH:

By order of the Peaky Blinders… the true Peaky Blinders lookalikes are not simply men in flat caps and tweed suits—they are performers who embody the presence, discipline, and attitude of the Shelby era.

As producer of Peaky Blinders: The BlackBox Bar, my focus was authenticity over imitation. These lookalikes were carefully selected not just for their physical resemblance, but for their ability to carry themselves like Peaky men—sharp, controlled, intimidating without excess. It’s in the walk, the stillness, the eyes, and the unspoken authority. Anyone can wear a suit; very few can command a room in silence.

What sets them apart is professionalism. They are trained performers who understand character, period detail, and audience engagement. Whether interacting with guests, posing for photography, or moving through the venue, they remain in character—never breaking the illusion. The result is an immersive experience rather than a novelty act.

The BlackBox Bar was designed to feel like you’d stepped into the world of Small Heath itself, and these lookalikes were central to that vision. They don’t parody the Peaky Blinders—they honour them. Every detail, from posture to speech to restraint, was intentional.

 In short, the true Peaky Blinders lookalikes are those who understand that the power of the Peaky Blinders was never loud.

It was quiet.

Controlled.

And absolutely commanding.

DG Q: In ‘Baby Girl Bye’, you take on the role of the father. Tell us about your experience preparing for this character and how the opportunity to join the production came about? 

SH:

Taking on the role of the father in Baby Girl Bye was a deeply grounded and emotional experience. This wasn’t a character driven by spectacle or extremes, but by restraint, responsibility, and unspoken feeling. Preparing for the role meant focusing on what the character doesn’t say—his silences, his hesitations, and the weight he carries as a father trying to hold things together while everything around him begins to fracture.

My preparation was rooted in realism. I spent time understanding the character’s emotional history, his relationship with his child, and the quiet fears that inform his decisions. Rather than overplaying emotion, the aim was honesty—letting small moments, looks, and pauses do the work.

The opportunity to join the production came through professional connections built over time within the film industry. There was an immediate alignment in tone and intention between myself and the creative team, and once the conversations began, it felt like a natural fit. The script had a sincerity that resonated with me, and the role offered the chance to explore fatherhood in a raw, truthful way.

It was a privilege to be part of a production that trusted subtlety and performance, and a role that reminded me how powerful quiet, emotionally honest storytelling can be.

DG Q: In preparing to embody Paul, the rebel leader in The N.E.S.T (2025), what creative or personal approaches did you draw upon? 

SH:

Preparing to embody Paul, the rebel leader in The N.E.S.T (2025), required a balance between strength and vulnerability. Creatively, I approached Paul not as a stereotypical leader, but as someone shaped by loss, pressure, and moral conflict. His authority comes from conviction rather than volume, so a lot of the work was internal— understanding what he’s fighting for, what he’s already lost, and the cost of every decision he makes.

 On a personal level, I drew heavily on observation and lived experience. Leadership, especially in desperate circumstances, often means carrying doubt in silence while projecting certainty to others. I focused on that duality—how Paul must appear unshakeable to his people, even as the weight of responsibility threatens to break him.

I also spent time working on physical restraint and presence. Paul doesn’t need to dominate a room aggressively; his power lies in calm resolve and clarity of purpose. Every movement, pause, and look needed to feel intentional, as though he was constantly calculating the next step while staying one step ahead of collapse.

Ultimately, my approach was about grounding Paul in truth—making him human first, a leader second—so that his rebellion feels earned, believable, and emotionally rooted rather than symbolic.

DG Q: Television has offered you a spectrum of roles across an impressive career. Which shows do you consider most pivotal in shaping your artistry, and how has the medium itself impacted the evolution of your professional journey? 

SH:

Television has played a crucial role in shaping me as an actor because of the discipline and depth the medium demands. Several projects in particular were pivotal in refining my craft and influencing the kind of performer I’ve become.

Shows such as The Bill and Casualty were especially formative. Both demanded a strong sense of realism and emotional truth, often under intense time pressure. Working on those productions taught me how to ground performances quickly, stay truthful in heightened situations, and trust instinct—skills that are essential in both television and film.

More contemporary, psychologically driven drama also had a lasting impact. Being involved in darker, character-led narratives reinforced my appreciation for restraint and internal tension, where what’s left unsaid is often more powerful than dialogue. These experiences directly informed how I approach roles like Thomas Greene in The Veil of Silence, where subtlety and control are key.

As a medium, television has shaped my professional journey by teaching consistency, stamina, and collaboration. Long-form storytelling allows characters to evolve naturally, and living with those roles over time sharpened my understanding of character psychology. Television didn’t just provide opportunities—it gave me a foundation, shaping my artistry and strengthening the quiet, character-driven approach that defines my work today.

DG Q: Could you paint a picture of your upbringing in Birmingham and the influences that defined your early years? 

SH:

Growing up in Birmingham was formative in ways I probably didn’t fully appreciate at the time. It’s a city built on contrast—hard edges alongside real warmth— and that duality shaped how I see people and stories. There’s an honesty to Birmingham: people say what they mean, they work hard, and they carry themselves with resilience. That environment grounds you early.

 My upbringing was rooted in everyday realism. I was surrounded by strong personalities, working-class grit, and a constant sense of community. You learn quickly how to read a room, how to listen, and how to hold your own—skills that later became invaluable as an actor. The city’s mix of cultures, accents, and attitudes gave me an early appreciation for character in all its forms.

Creatively, Birmingham exposed me to raw storytelling rather than polished fantasy. Whether through local theatre, television, or simply observing life on the streets, I was drawn to stories about ordinary people under pressure. That influence still runs through my work today: particularly in psychologically driven roles where restraint, silence, and inner conflict matter more than grand gestures.

Birmingham didn’t just shape where I came from—it shaped how I approach my craft. It taught me authenticity, toughness, and empathy, and it gave me a grounding that I carry into every role I take on.

DG Q: Which actors or films have most profoundly influenced your journey and shaped your career as an actor? 

SH:

The actors and films that have influenced me most are those rooted in authenticity and psychological truth rather than surface-level performance. Early on, I was drawn to actors who could command a scene through restraint where a look or a pause carried as much weight as dialogue.

Performers like Gary Oldman and Michael Caine were hugely influential. Both have an ability to disappear into a role while keeping the performance grounded and human. Oldman’s fearlessness and transformation, combined with Caine’s discipline and economy, shaped my understanding of how powerful controlled acting can be.

In terms of films, gritty, character-driven British cinema left a lasting mark—stories where environment and psychology are inseparable. Films such as Dead Man’s Shoes and Nil by Mouth demonstrated that brutality doesn’t need excess; it needs truth. Those films showed me how silence, realism, and emotional weight can linger far longer than spectacle.

 More broadly, I’ve always been influenced by work that respects the audience—films and performances that don’t over-explain, that allow viewers to lean in and engage. That philosophy continues to guide my choices as an actor, shaping a career built on nuance, honesty, and characters who feel lived-in rather than performed.

DG Q: With many years shaping stories on screen, which role resonates as the most transformative: one that altered your perspective or left an indelible mark on your life, and what gave it such profound significance? 

SH: Interestingly, the most transformative experiences in my career didn’t come from a single lead role, but from the many times I worked as an extra early on. Being on set repeatedly in that capacity had a profound impact on how I understand performance, storytelling, and the industry as a whole.

Working as an extra taught me how a set truly functions—the rhythm of a production day, the importance of discipline, patience, and awareness. Standing in the background, observing directors, lead actors, and crew at work, gave me a front-row education in craft without the pressure of performance. I learned how small choices read on camera, how continuity matters, and how energy carries through a scene even when you’re not speaking.

Those experiences fundamentally shifted my perspective. They instilled a deep respect for every role on set, no matter how small, and reinforced the idea that storytelling is collaborative. Being an extra wasn’t just a starting point—it was a foundation. It grounded me, removed ego, and shaped the professional approach I carry into every role today.

That time left an indelible mark because it taught me that no part is insignificant, and that understanding the whole machine of filmmaking makes you a stronger, more thoughtful actor when you eventually step forward into larger roles.

DG Q: You’ve achieved so much throughout your career, with an incredible list of accomplishments behind you. But is there still one dream or ambition that remains just out of reach—something you're still striving toward?  

SH: No matter how much you achieve in this industry, there’s always something just beyond reach—and I think that’s what keeps the work honest. For me, the ambition isn’t tied to fame or scale, but to one truly defining, character-led performance that stays with people long after the credits roll.

I’m still striving for a role that fully strips everything back—a project where the character is complex, uncomfortable, and human, and where the storytelling trusts silence as much as dialogue. Something psychologically rich, grounded in truth, and unafraid to sit with darkness. That’s the kind of work that lingers, not just for an audience, but for the actor as well.

Beyond that, the dream is longevity. To keep telling meaningful stories, to keep evolving, and to remain part of projects that respect craft over noise. If there’s one thing still just out of reach, it’s that perfect alignment of role, timing, and story—the one where everything clicks and leaves a permanent mark.

Until then, the pursuit itself is the point.

DG Q: Looking back on your extensive journey through film and

television, what stands out as the most valuable lesson you've learned along the way?  

SH: The most valuable lesson I’ve learned is that authenticity always outweighs ambition.

Early on, it’s easy to focus on outcomes: credits, recognition, momentum—but over time I’ve learned that the work only truly resonates when it’s rooted in honesty. The performances that last, and the collaborations that matter most, come from listening, staying grounded, and serving the story rather than yourself.

I’ve also learned the importance of patience and respect for every role and every person on set. Film and television are collective efforts, and understanding the value of each contribution—from the smallest background moment to the lead performance—shapes not only your craft but your reputation.

Above all, I’ve learned that longevity comes from consistency and integrity. Show up prepared. Stay open. Keep learning. If you do that, the journey—however unpredictable— becomes as meaningful as any destination.

DG Q: Is there a lesser-known facet of your life or personality that you’d be willing to reveal, something fans might be surprised to learn?  

SH:

One thing that might surprise people is how quiet and observant I am away from set. Given the intensity of some of the characters I play, there’s an assumption that I’m always switched on or outwardly expressive, but in reality I value stillness and time alone.

I spend a lot of time watching people—how they move, how they speak when they think no one is listening, the small habits that give them away. That tendency comes from years in the industry and feeds directly into my work as an actor. Much of my preparation happens silently, long before a camera ever rolls.

I’m also far more reflective than people might expect. I enjoy reading, revisiting old films, and breaking down performances rather than chasing constant noise. It’s in those quieter moments that I find balance—and often, that’s where the most useful creative insight comes from.

DG Q: As someone who champions men’s mental health, how do you feel society can take meaningful steps to reduce stigma, expand access to support, and foster lasting change in response to this growing crisis? 

SH: For me, meaningful change around men’s mental health starts with normalising honesty. Too many men are taught—implicitly or explicitly—that strength means silence. Society needs to actively challenge that narrative and replace it with one that recognises vulnerability as a form of courage, not weakness.

Reducing stigma begins with visibility. When men in all walks of life—public figures, creatives, fathers, workers—speak openly about struggle, it gives others permission to do the same. Not in a performative way, but in a grounded, human one. Conversations about mental health shouldn’t only happen at crisis point; they should be part of everyday life.

Access to support also has to improve in practical terms. That means better funding for mental health services, shorter waiting times, and support that’s tailored to how men often communicate—sometimes indirectly, sometimes through action rather than words. Safe spaces, peer-led groups, and creative or physical outlets can be just as vital as traditional therapy.

 Finally, lasting change comes from education—starting early. Teaching boys emotional literacy, how to articulate feelings, and how to ask for help without shame lays the foundation for healthier men later in life. If we can combine openness, accessible support, and early intervention, we don’t just reduce stigma—we save lives.

Men’s mental health isn’t a side issue. It’s a societal responsibility.

DG Q: If you could offer one brutally, raw and unfiltered, honest piece of advice to emerging artists walking the same path, what would it be?  

SH: Stop waiting to be chosen.

This industry does not reward entitlement or patience alone. Talent matters, but resilience matters more. You will be ignored, overlooked, and underestimated far more than you will be praised—and if that breaks you, this path will eat you alive.

Do the work when no one is watching. Learn the craft. Show up on time. Be decent. Protect your integrity, because once it’s gone, it doesn’t come back. Not every opportunity is worth taking, and not every rejection is personal—but both will shape you if you let them.

And here’s the part people don’t like hearing: if you need validation to survive, you’re in the wrong business. Find your reason. Anchor yourself to it. Because passion fades, luck is rare, and only discipline and self-belief will carry you through the long, quiet stretches.

If you can endure that—and still want it—then keep going.

DG Q: What’s one ‘no-BS’ truth you wish someone had told you when you were just starting out in the filming industry?  

SH: Here’s the no-BS truth I wish I’d been told early on:

Nobody is coming to save you.

The film industry isn’t a meritocracy, and talent alone won’t open doors. Opportunities come to those who create them, chase them, and stay when it gets uncomfortable. You’ll meet people who promise the world and disappear. You’ll give more than you get back—often for years.

Learn the business as well as the craft. Protect your time. Read contracts. Build real relationships, not transactional ones. And understand this early: being reliable, prepared, and easy to work with will get you further than raw ability ever will.

If you’re still standing after hearing that—and still want it—then you’re already ahead of most people.

SH: Let’s finish strong: what’s one quote that hits you right in the soul and says, “This is me”?  

SH: “I don’t need to be loud to be dangerous.”

That line sums up how I move through both life and work. I’ve always believed strength lives in restraint, in observation, in knowing who you are without needing to announce it. The most powerful presence in a room is often the quiet one—the person who understands themselves, their purpose, and their boundaries.

That quote isn’t about threat.

It’s about control, patience, and intent

LINKS:

IMDB: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm15953885/?ref_=ext_shr_lnk

INSTA: @simon_hall_1974_official