Micaela Diamond’s first exposure to Ryan Murphy was through “Glee,” Fox’s unlikely musical hit. She was 10 when it debuted, and as a burgeoning Broadway performer, she says, “It couldn't have been more my show.” Years later, Diamond is a Tony Award nominee and a known talent in New York theater.
But she’s a fresh face to most TV viewers and one that “Grotesquerie” transformed into a puzzle. As Sister Megan, Diamond personifies the wide-eyed and chaste young devotee until she explains to Det. Lois Tryon (Niecy Nash-Betts) that she’s also a journalist specializing in grisly serial murders.
Her gore obsession is only where it starts. Megan evolves from an odd obsessive into a secret sinner when her crush on Father Charlie (Nicholas Alexander Chavez) grows into a sexual tryst that kicks off with her kinkily spitting on his self-inflicted wounds. One mortal sin leads to another, and before you know it, she’s charging Lois in her kitchen with a knife in her hand, howling, "Blasphemy!"
Only then comes the twist, revealing that reality is not what we were led to believe.
Some likened “Grotesquerie” to “American Horror Story” after its two-episode launch, taken in and aback by its carnage, including the suggestion of a repugnant act, along with its nun redux. (In the broader Murphyverse, Diamond's novice follows in the footsteps of Jessica Lange's mother superior in the "Asylum" season of "AHS," no small task.)
Those sticking with it and stomaching through, however, came to see Murphy and his collaborators Jon Robin Baitz and Joe Baken were pushing a more ambitious vision, manifesting our fears and sorrows in a series where the performances command our attention more than the gory tableaus.
Diamond’s surprising presence plays a significant role in that: Never was there a time when Sister Megan didn’t make us question everything about her. But this was something of a misdirect since Megan was never really herself. In our conversation with Diamond, we discussed how she created one of the weirdest characters of this fall’s TV season.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
I think I speak for everybody who's watched “Grotesquerie” in saying that I would never have guessed it would end up where it is now. And by the way, I wrote about it after the first four episodes aired, and I was reluctant to do so because I sensed that something was not quite fully cooked as it began.
Good sensing on your part.
So take me through the process: How did you come to join this production?
I sent a self-tape like all the other girls. I had never met Ryan, he had never seen me in a Broadway show, and I ended up getting called to LA for a screen test. It was me and him in the room, and we just kind of started collaborating on who this girl might be. We felt really inspired by [Manson Family member] Squeaky Fromme and the idea of women in cults. And I went home and started watching documentary after documentary. Then I got the call and felt excited to dive into this world of who she might be.
You know, we've seen so many nuns in the Ryan Murphy universe and in huge franchises like “The Conjuring” and in “Doubt” and the Magdalene Laundries stories. There's so many ways in. I just wanted to find mine, and kind of find some of the humor in it, in the kind of commitment to her job that she holds simultaneously as a journalist, which is kind of bizarre. I just tried to live up to the writing, which I think is so beautiful by Robbie and Ryan and Joe.
I was also going to add that you have an extensive Broadway resume, and a lot of people who know theater are familiar with different Broadway nuns.
It's true. I've never had my hand at “Sister Act,” but I've sung that song a few times. . .Behind the scenes one day in the desert when we were shooting Episode 4, I was gleefully singing "Sound of Music" into the sand pits of Hell. Felt very on-brand for me.
If you were to read what the script was, read about all the gory stagings, read about your character being a nun and having a thing for serial killers — giggling over what Ed Gein has done — it would have given me some pause. How did you receive all that?
You know, it's a crazy feeling to read a stage direction like, “She runs down the hallway groping herself in a religious reverie.” There's part of me that disassociates as an actor, because you're like, “If I think about that too much, I'm gonna get scared,” Then there's part of me that's excited, because on the day, I don't know what that will look like.
. . .So I just had a ball trying to surprise myself in those moments where she speaks in tongues, or she has an exorcism, or she watches Father Charlie whip himself — like, there are these moments I really had no idea how they were going to play, and just had to trust myself and my scene partners and my directors to kind of guide me through some of those moments. It is a scary feeling, but also like a little gift to an actor. There’s a chance to take a risk, to do something that you haven't seen on television before, which is kind of fun for me.
And from the viewer’s perspective, there's a whole lot of dismembered body parts, gore, viscera. . . and there's a lot of vomit, there's –
Bed sores.
Bed sores. What I'm trying to say is it takes a lot of bravery and a lot of faith in the creator and the creation to be able to sign on to a series that could potentially be a turn-off. I don't know if that ever factored into it for you.
Well, you know, it's kind of a story worth telling. Sister Megan, as a journalist, is obsessed and destructively invested in this question of good versus evil, the only story humans have from their first breath to their last. I think that she knows that the grotesque will bring people to faith because that is what happens with humans.
My best friend just lost her brother. We found an immense amount of spirituality that I didn't think I would ever have. When atheists are on planes that are having turbulence, they start to pray. We all end up searching for answers when we're in dark places. And I think the show does push that boundary of like, how far can you go? How gross can it be, until, you know, you end up in a pew? Is that manipulative? I think these are all questions. I don't really have answers to any of them, but I do think it's interesting to think about, especially in these last few episodes.
Something I've really thought about is, we're all searching for these answers. My generation seems to go to therapy, and there have been other generations to go to synagogue or church. But it really is just this question of how do we deal with all of the shame in our reality? What do we do with it all?
And I think that a part of our reality is the grotesque is — you know, vomit and that sores and really scary dreams.
Speaking of that, let's talk about that scene in the kitchen where it all turns. Can you break it down?
The blasphemy scene? That kitchen scene, we shot over two days. We had stunt doubles who were phenomenal. And it really was a choreographed dance once the blasphemy moment occurred.
But before that, I just remember we had a long morning of playing in that kitchen. It's so funny, the thing that I remember being most scared of was that I hadn't ever opened a champagne bottle, and it's how that scene starts. I remember just starting the morning being like, “I don't even know how to open a champagne bottle. How am I going to speak in tongues by the time lunch is over? But I did. I figured out how to open the bottle, and I figured out my version of having an exorcism.
I've heard other actors talk about this, but there's a part of you that, like, just has to embarrass yourself. And I think that day I was like, “Just humiliate yourself. It's OK. Everyone will still love you. And if you fail, you fail.” And there are moments I'm sure, I mean, I haven't seen them, but I'm sure that didn't work, you know? And so I just kind of threw things to the wall.
I had so much fun doing that, and I was petrified to watch it. I was so scared. But it's so fun to see it all come together with music, with your stunt doubles — it's just amazing.
How much of that was scripted, and how much was improvised?
None of the eating was scripted, the thyme and stuff. There was no circling in the script. That was kind of something we decided in the moment, because of a camera setup really, which is what it comes down to. But yeah, I mean, a lot isn't [scripted]. Like the scene when I spit, which everyone seems to have found to be insane, that wasn't scripted.
That wasn't scripted?
No, you just kind of try things. And I remember at that moment, Ryan, right before we did that take, was like, “50% more sensual and weird,” and I was like, “OK,” and like, spit. And then it made the cut.
The Megan that we see in the last three episodes is very, very different. How did you develop that side of her?
Good question. I remember we did the first scene with Cop Megan, um, where I'm kind of like hovering over that mess of a case. And I just remember being like, “This woman is tired.” Sister Megan is perky, obsessed with her job. She's viciously dedicated to helping Lois. Cop Megan, Reality Detective Megan, is exhausted by the system. Her mentor is in a coma. She has no idea how to rise to the occasion, even though she's pretending that she does, and she's been left with this case that is a mess. And I think that's really where I started with those circumstances.
Physically, she's heavier than Sister Megan, and trying to process all of this information about Lois’ dreams. I like watching these episodes to kind of psychoanalyze it all and why she manifested us in the way she did, because it kind of questions if it's worth hurting people in our life to understand ourselves better or further science.
These are big questions, but I think that the dynamic between her and Lois is really complicated. Mentorship is complicated in any space, but especially in a field where I personally think it's a flawed system. So you're having a white woman and a Black woman have these conversations about how to approach the work, and that mentorship is nuanced and can be gaslighting and confusing. . . I mean, how many people have mentors that end up being complicated figures in their lives?
This is a series where people can look at its surface and get one type of value, but it also has intense sociopolitical commentary, especially by the end. Once “Grotesquerie” is complete, what do you envision the takeaway will be?
Hmm… I'll just say this. I just watched the two episodes that came out, and after watching them, I think it's really interesting to think about the question of how we hurt other people in our lives to understand ourselves.
On a kind of grand scale, shrooms level, if you will, I have done surrealist art in the past. I did Sondheim's final play ["Here We Are"] which was based on a Luis Buñuel film, that kind of questions the hierarchy of realities. Why do we think that our dream state is so far off from our reality? That is, I think, a great question. I think our dreams can tell us a lot, and I kind of wonder why we hold so much more importance to whatever this reality is.
The last thing I'll say is just that part of what drew me into this script, initially — because I only had Episode 1 — was watching these two women who, at another time in their lives, would never glance at each other or give each other the time of day. And yet, in this moment of their lives, for some reason, they need something from the other. And how as humans, we can be open to those moments of world interference and be open to when they come for the sake of a friendship. . . I don't know. Yeah, those three, I'll leave you with.
The finale of "Grotesquerie" airs 10 p.m. Wednesday on FX and streams the next day on Hulu.
