While browsing Architectural Digest last year, Greta Lee stumbled upon a small house located on the secluded Lopud Island, nestled along Croatia’s Dalmatian coast: serene, sunny, and wonderfully isolated. After an arduous five-month filming schedule for Disney’s upcoming blockbuster Tron: Ares, where Lee plays a leading role, she immediately booked the property for the next summer, hopeful the timing would align. To her surprise, everything worked out perfectly. In July, after arriving by speedboat with her husband and their two sons, aged six and nine, they climbed the 160 steps to the home framed by verdant cypress trees and citrus orchards. At last, she could enjoy tranquility—an escape from Hollywood’s demands.
Shortly after settling in, however, the housekeeper casually revealed that their neighbors were none other than esteemed filmmakers Ruben Östlund and Sean Baker.
“What a nightmare!” Lee exclaimed over lunch the following month, incredulity painting her face. “I specifically sought out this remote location to avoid such encounters, but when I found out, I had to decide—should I introduce myself?”
So, did she? “Absolutely not! The very reason for choosing that island was to stay hidden. Once, I spotted Ruben while in my swimsuit and literally turned and bolted,” she laughs, remembering the moment. “It’ll definitely make for a funny story when I eventually meet him.”
This likelihood seems certain for the well-regarded 42-year-old actress, who’s observed Hollywood from an amused distance, having only recently become famous after nearly two decades of acting.
With a knack for dry humor and sharp one-liners, she’s spent the last decade portraying various modern women in female-centric comedies: a cynical nail technician (Sisters), a woman struggling to accept compliments (Inside Amy Schumer), a charismatic art_scene newcomer (Girls), a bohemian spirit in Russian Doll, and a young yet unsettling dermatologist on the Upper East Side (Broad City).
Yet it was the breakout film Past Lives in 2023 that truly changed the game for her. Portraying Nora, a woman torn between the past and present, garnered her nominations for Golden Globe, Critics Choice, and Independent Spirit awards. Following that success, numerous opportunities emerged: alongside Tron: Ares, there’s Kathryn Bigelow’s new thriller A House of Dynamite; a significant arc for her character Stella Bak in the fourth season of Apple TV+’s The Morning Show; and the poignant upcoming indie film Late Fame. Suddenly, she finds herself in unexpected territory.
“None of this was anticipated,” she reflects. “And thankfully, it diverges significantly from anything I had envisioned for my career by this point. In the past, it wasn’t guaranteed for women to continue finding roles in their 40s; it was believed you should vanish at that stage. But the reality being the exact opposite? I can’t deny that it’s incredibly disorienting.”
Her experiences on the red carpet have also transformed. Choosing bold, sculptural designs over traditional glamorous looks, she has become synonymous with designer Jonathan Anderson, the recently minted head of Dior after departing Loewe earlier this year. As a Dior ambassador, Lee actively participates in shaping Anderson’s vision for the storied fashion house, initiating a thrilling new chapter.
<p“When you say ‘Hollywood’ to me, I wonder—do I have a place here?” she muses. “You’ve caught me in a rather peculiar phase, as I genuinely don’t know.”
WHAT A MATCH
Lee has roles in three new and upcoming films: Tron: Ares, A House of Dynamite, and Late Fame. Dior top, skirt, and shoes, and Tiffany & Co. earrings.
In person, Lee possesses a refreshing humility, devoid of exaggerated gestures or ostentation; she’s unrecognizable at the Houston’s branch we selected for our meeting in Pasadena. Seeking an all-American burger after spending several months in England filming the Netflix sci-fi thriller 11817, she chooses comfort over trendiness. “There are far more exciting dining options, but I have a fondness for this spot,” she admits, settled in a booth draped in the restaurant’s characteristic warm light. “It oddly comforts me—it might be my suburban upbringing talking.”
Born in the idyllic suburb of La Cañada Flintridge in Los Angeles, Lee is the eldest of three children, with parents originating from South Korea. Their household resonated with music, predominately opera, thanks to her mother, a classically trained pianist, who nurtured Lee’s love for beauty and art. They frequently attended concerts by Korean soprano Sumi Jo, whose albums filled their home. Encouraged by her mother, Lee explored singing, piano, modern dance, and painting, recalling how “there wasn’t much difference between these activities—just a natural part of our lives.”
Lee’s affinity for performance grew early on, and while her parents supported her, it came with conditions: content with her pursuing acting only after she gained admission to Northwestern. “My dad’s a doctor, and at one point, he nervously suggested, ‘You might also consider becoming a doctor—you could go into prosthetics, that’s a bit like sculpture,’” she recalls wryly.
The early 2000s were a challenging landscape for actors of her appearance, and opportunities were few, even during high school and college. “Those years left me uncertain about my viability in a career,” she reflects. As the first in her family to attend school in the U.S., she faced immense pressure to succeed. “Expectations were sky-high. School was anything but casual,” she says. At Harvard-Westlake, an elite prep school, she felt compelled to excel in Advanced Placement classes and aimed for perfect SAT scores (“which I didn’t achieve,” she quickly interjects). During a tour of MIT, her father pointed at a theater-club flyer on a bulletin board, insisting, “See? You could pursue this!”
Even Lee grappled with envisioning a sustainable acting career, lacking role models in the industry. “That absence has always been painful; internalizing years of feeling like, if the only representation I see is one I can’t embody, what’s my place?” she shares. “This struggle persists—those examples remain scarce.”
SHE’S GOT PLUCK
Colleen Allen dress. Heather Huey feather crown.
Her audition for Tron: Ares, which marked her return to casting calls after several years, was filled with trepidation. “Honestly, I couldn’t even define what a Tron was,” she admits, but the part of Eve Kim, an adept programmer embroiled in a vibrant, virtual landscape, “felt like a departure from Past Lives, which was rooted in realism and character depth. I sought something new, and this role challenged conventional norms regarding character portrayal.” This third installment of the Disney franchise combines impressive visual effects, an electrifying soundtrack by Nine Inch Nails, and nostalgic references to the ’80s like floppy disks and pinball machines.
“I just wanted to ride a light cycle,” Lee lightheartedly joked at Comic-Con, though she rejects the idea of limiting herself to a certain genre. “There’s a pressure to create a personal narrative as an actor, and I find that idea irritating; my job is to connect with diverse individuals, focusing on others rather than myself.”
“The more success you achieve, the more isolated you can sometimes feel,” she explains. “I’ve observed the toll this takes on peers—how they start viewing themselves as products within the industry. That’s disheartening to witness.”
Lee has been whisked into exclusive air travel lounges, where breakfast includes caviar at dawn, and during a summer trip to Paris, she found herself assigned a bodyguard for the first time. “It felt absurd—I mean, I was just going to a museum!” She acknowledges the necessity for privacy but believes the extremes can be excessive. “It’s a choice. Opting out of that scene means you retain your space—a vital aspect of my job. Isolating yourself leads to disconnect.”
Motivated by her discomfort with the celebrity lifestyle, she joined the cast of Late Fame, an indie directed by Kent Jones, where a group of offbeat artists revisits the work of a long-forgotten poet, played by Willem Dafoe. Adapted from an 1895 novella, it scrutinizes artistic legacy and recognition’s distorting effects. “The film resonates with my feelings about where art is heading and our consumption patterns,” Lee comments. “The title alone speaks to my understanding of its message.”
“Anyone familiar with Greta’s work knows her for her humor,” Jones comments. “She brings a unique intensity alongside a lively spirit to her roles.” He praises how Late Fame showcases her adaptability. “She fluidly traverses distinct emotional states, portraying a character who is always presenting—a blend of vitality and subtlety.”
Willem Dafoe echoes this admiration: “Greta is refreshingly enigmatic; there’s an allure in not fully grasping her, which keeps the audience intrigued without boxing her in.”
Noteworthy is her rendition of the cabaret torch song “Surabaya Johnny” in Late Fame, harking back to her musical theater roots. “One of my childhood dreams was to be a Broadway diva—think Lea Salonga or Heather Headley,” she says, joking, “Just don’t mention Patti LuPone!”
Having competed in singing and dance since early childhood, she reflects, “Every endeavor reveals how little people know about me.” She notes how her upbeat Risky Business-inspired Calvin Klein advertisement surprised friends, who were shocked to learn she hadn’t employed a dance coach.
Being in top form today helps; Lee is an avid practitioner of the Tracy Anderson method, working out daily with a diverse group of women, some nearing 60. “I look at them with a mix of admiration and disbelief,” she laughs. “I want to maintain this energy well into my 80s.”
In essence, she fully embraces life with an earnest zeal. “I feel a fierce desire to relish every moment as I age,” she shares as she digs into a towering cheeseburger. “I’m becoming more adamant about pursuing joy without compromise.” She even broaches the possibility of expanding her family with her husband, comedy writer Russ Armstrong. “I want to hold firmly to my desires.”
She seeks to cultivate an off-grid lifestyle as much as possible in bustling Los Angeles. After a 15-year tenure in New York, she and her family relocated in 2020 for the second season of The Morning Show. They settled in a charming two-bedroom house located in El Sereno, a historically working-class Latino neighborhood, boasting a cactus-covered acre once used for grazing. “We were those clueless New Yorkers trying to navigate a rural adventure,” she laughs, recalling the initial experience of living amongst snakes and coyotes, “like stepping into the wild, wild West.”
SUN QUEEN
“She wears nothing on her sleeve,” says Willem Dafoe, her costar in the Kent Jones–directed indie Late Fame. Dior dress.
GO FOR GOLD
“There’s the capacity for life to just turn,” says Lee, in Celine.
Upcoming for Lee includes a chance to star in a Broadway revival of Closer, marking its first U.S. staging in over 25 years. This past summer, she was also notified she will write and direct an adaptation of The Eyes Are the Best Part, Monika Kim’s psychological-horror novel for Searchlight Pictures. “Having been in the acting field for as long as I have, I’ve picked up much about directing,” she explains. “It’s deeply personal, as it largely draws on my family history, albeit centered around a Korean American serial killer, which sounds bizarre.”
This project will specifically look for an Asian American leading actor, which Lee sees as a responsibility. “It’s vital for me to create opportunities that weren’t offered to me for decades,” she insists. “If I don’t take this initiative, based on my own experiences, it simply won’t happen.”
After her Croatian journey, Lee arrived for her first Dior campaign at the Palace of Versailles, visibly tanned and a bit unkempt. “I probably resembled Matthew McConaughey from The Beach Bum with a bongo drum—definitely not the image of Lady Dior.”
Inspired by her fashion icons like Twyla Tharp and Katharine Hepburn, Lee describes them as “handsome women” who dress pragmatically and are ready for action. She appreciates styles that favor tailored and powerful looks over traditionally feminine aesthetics. On this breezy summer Friday, she appears radiant in an oversized blue chore coat and light gray knit vest paired with dark trousers. Her long hair cascades freely, accentuating her natural beauty. Outside professional commitments, she jokingly adds, “My style resembles Frances McDormand’s—functional enough for everything from gardening to going out.”
Adapting to her role as a new face of Dior, historically associated with femininity, Lee expresses her amazement. “Wearing this campaign involves declaring, ‘Je suis Lady Dior!’—and I can’t help but laugh, thinking, ‘Am I really a lady?’ It’s certainly a complex label,” she admits. Discussing Anderson’s work at Dior, she notes, “Some pieces are distinctly feminine, featuring elements like bows,” almost whispering the word as if it holds weight.
Lee and Anderson first collaborated during the 2023 Berlinale, where she donned a striking strapless scarlet Loewe dress, continuing a relationship that saw her become a global brand ambassador for Loewe. “I genuinely like Jonathan,” she reveals. “Despite his ‘frat boy’ appearance, his vision and dedication to his work are incredibly appealing; he’s deeply aware of global trends, from mainstream to obscure art, striving to highlight diverse creators. Now, he faces the exciting challenge of redefining this well-established brand. I relate to this; it’s what I constantly aim to do in my career.”
The Venice Film Festival kicked off Lee’s exciting chapter with Dior, celebrating Anderson’s designs. For the premier of House of Dynamite, she dazzled in a deep green organza and black satin mini dress, flaunting an eye-catching bow. (In the film, she embodies a North Korea expert called to action by the White House when impending danger looms.) Furthermore, she wore an elegant black silk skirt suit—Anderson’s homage to Dior’s New Look—at the Late Fame premiere.
Anderson quickly developed admiration for Lee, stating, “She embodies down-to-earth charm while also knowing how to enjoy herself. I love dressing her.” He believes she represents the ideal Dior woman: “incredibly talented, self-aware, and unafraid to take fashion risks.”
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BEACH DAY
Erdem dress.
When we reconnect after Venice, Lee is seated in her parents’ living room, in front of a piano adorned with family photographs. The experience from the film festival, where she launched two films, still overwhelms her. The custom Dior dress feels like an extension of her tribute to the event— “It’s not just a dress; it represents the countless hours and creative energy invested,” she emphasizes. “In fashion, I’m more Methodical than in my actual acting.”
Preparing for the appearance, she immersed herself in Maria Callas’s music and watched the 1955 romantic comedy Summertime, featuring Katharine Hepburn as an independent American woman who finds love in Venice. “The theme resonates with the vulnerability of women navigating rich cultural experiences while feeling like outsiders,” she suggests.
Her approach to premieres—wearing gowns from various designers including Bottega Veneta, Proenza Schouler, Calvin Klein, and The Row—aims to conserve that electrifying anticipation reminiscent of her teen years. “As a young person, the buildup and excitement felt limitless, where anything seemed possible,” she remarks. “I’m fortunate that my circle understands this desire to reclaim that spirit.” (For the past decade, Lee has partnered with stylist Danielle Goldberg, who also collaborates with Ayo Edebiri, Kaia Gerber, and Olivia Rodrigo, along with her dedicated glam team, referred to as “my Korean ladies,” including makeup artist Nina Park and hairstylist Jenny Cho.)
Today, however, the landscape has shifted: “Everyone carries their phones; at parties, they sip Champagne while filming themselves. Everything feels contrived and corporate. It’s disheartening; it seems fewer people remember how to genuinely enjoy themselves.” Nevertheless, she acknowledges that leading campaign efforts, like her recent Tiffany & Co. collaboration, can be empowering for someone like her, who embodies diverse ideals.
Lee, effective in our conversations, never once reaches for her phone and confesses she steers clear of all personal images she might see on social media. Reflecting on a humorous meme portraying youth nightlife pre-smartphones, she recalls how those images depicted evenings filled with real participation, “As someone growing up in the ’90s, that experience meant everything, and I just wished to be closer to it.”
She’s deep in thought now, recalling treasured memories: “The local multiplex was everything to me; I craved being part of that atmosphere.” Lost in recollections, she notes, “Life has the capacity to undergo significant changes; dreams can’t remain static when the world is evolving so rapidly. I feel acutely aware of that reality.” A playful grin crosses her face. “At least as long as I’m not continuously ushered into small rooms with caviar at 6 in the morning!”
In this story: hair, Holli Smith; makeup, Emi Kaneko; manicurist, Emi Kudo; tailor, Susie Kourinian for Susie’s Custom Designs.
Produced by Rosco Productions. Set Design: Jeremy Reimnitz.
