Interview with actor and activist Thomas Sadoski
A conversation about his acting, humanitarian work, life in the Hudson Valley, and upcoming film “Lilly.”
Actor and humanitarian Thomas Sadoski has a career that spans stage, television, and film. You may recognize him from his compelling role in Aaron Sorkin's celebrated series The Newsroom, his memorable appearance in the action thriller John Wick, or most recently, his powerful portrayal in Lilly — the moving biographical film chronicling equal pay champion Lilly Ledbetter's courageous journey that culminated in the landmark Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act of 2009.
Yet Sadoski's impact extends far beyond the screen. His passionate humanitarian work with organizations like War Child, which provides protection, education, and support to children in conflict zones, and INARA, delivering critical medical care to children injured in war, reveals the depth of his commitment to creating meaningful change in the world.
I spoke with Sadoski on a recent Monday about his life in the Hudson Valley, how it's influenced his creative and humanitarian work, and more. I was struck by his thoughtfulness and authenticity, and his deep care for his family and community.
What first brought you to the Hudson Valley?
My wife had found a place up here before we'd met, so I kind of married into it. But once I got up here, it was a no-brainer.
(Sadoski's wife, the actress Amanda Seyfried, has had a home in the Hudson Valley for years.)
I grew up in rural Connecticut, before moving to Texas in my childhood. This is just an hour-and-a-half drive from where I grew up, so it felt like a homecoming in a lot of ways.
It's a great place to be, not only to raise kids, but to have an opportunity to sit and create.
You live on a working farm. How does that lifestyle shape your sense of balance between your public life and private life?
Particularly in this business, having something that puts your feet back on the ground — literally and figuratively — is profoundly important. I probably don’t avail myself of every opportunity to get down and dirty with taking care of the animals, but being close to it and doing some of it matters.
I’m a huge Jim Harrison fan — the poet and author — and I feel like I’m touching a bit of what he talked about. When you put yourself in communion with the world, both the big picture and the small, there’s something profound about being out in nature, going for walks, discovering birdsong, making peace with the bears on the property. It really dials you in to what matters.
You don’t end up building your house on a ghost, like a lot of people do in this industry. It wants you to believe the externals it creates are real or valuable — but they’re not. This life out here is balancing. It’s a foundation.
How does being based in the Hudson Valley shape your work, creatively and logistically?
It’s not hard to get to New York or L.A. if needed. But being based here forces you to be more intentional about the projects you choose, why you’re choosing them, where they’ll take you, and for how long.
When I was younger, I scrambled. I jumped at everything. Now, with some distance and perspective, I ask: Is this where I want to spend my time and energy? Are these the people I want to be around?
Living up here has informed that. It’s changed my values, and by extension, the stories I want to tell. I’m less interested in doing something derivative or working with people whose values don’t align with mine. The work I want to do now is about small, honest human moments and real connection.
I don’t want to do a superhero movie — not that anyone’s offering — but even if they were, it wouldn’t interest me. Being here, grounded, in this community, has changed the kinds of stories I want to be part of.
Thomas stars alongside Patricia Clarkson in the movie Lilly, about equal pay advocate Lilly Ledbetter.
How did Lilly get on your radar?
They called me up and said, “Patricia Clarkson wants you to do this movie with her,” and I said, “Okay.” You don’t say no to Patty Clarkson — not if you love this work the way I do.
It was an honor. She’s an extraordinary actor and artist, someone I’ve looked up to for a long time. Having her come to me and ask was a beautiful moment.
I would’ve said yes anyway, but when they told me the film was about the life of Lilly Ledbetter, I was all in. These are the kinds of stories I want to tell — an inspirational story about an American hero far too few people know enough about.
Especially now, when everything feels so unmoored, being able to lock in on someone who sacrificed for all of us — it’s meaningful. It was an immediate yes. I didn’t even read the script. They said, “Patty Clarkson, Lilly Ledbetter,” and I said, “Let’s go.”
The story is so much about fairness and systems. Were there any moments during the filming that spoke to you personally?
Absolutely. We shot in Georgia, right in the middle of the pandemic. Then we had to shut down — for a year. And everyone said the same thing: independent films don’t come back after that. Studio films rarely do, and indies almost never.
But the one person who wasn’t rattled was Lilly. She said, “Yeah, it’s going to take a long time. It took me a long time to get where I got. From when I was first fired to when the Fair Pay Act was signed — it was years of work.”
She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t scared. And she told us not to be either. That kind of unshakable belief set the tone. It was like, “We owe it to her. We’re coming back.”
And we did. A year later, we made it happen. And she got to see the film before she passed. That meant the world. It was powerful.
You're bringing Lilly to Saugerties later this month with the Woodstock Film Festival. What does it mean to you to share that kind of story in the community you're a part of?
It goes back to that question of what kinds of stories you want to tell, about whom, and for whom. This is the kind of story that, I think, will really land with people up here.
Take politics and culture out of it; if anyone’s going to understand Lilly Ledbetter’s story, it’s a working-class community. Folks here get how easily working people have been taken advantage of throughout this country’s history.
You need people willing to step up from small towns and communities to make a difference. That ripple effect can be massive. Lilly is a story about scrappy, working-class people doing what they can with what they’ve got — taking on institutions designed to steamroll them — and winning.
Her life happened in rural Alabama, but the values are the same. I grew up in a rural, working-class community. I live in one now. The accents may differ, but the rules don’t. She’s a hero for people who know what that life is.
There's another side to the work you do — you're involved with War Child, INARA, and several other humanitarian projects. Has living in the Hudson Valley, with its slower pace and different kind of community, changed the way you process or carry that portion of your work?
In a lot of ways, yes. Having space — real physical and mental space — after coming back from an active combat zone or a humanitarian crisis is huge. Re-entry here is gentle. It’s not like landing in the middle of Times Square.
Most of the work happens in cities — D.C., big metros — but living here means I get to choose when I enter that environment. That sharpens your thinking. It makes you more deliberate about how you approach people, how you advocate, how you ask for help.
In the city, there’s a scramble. You waste a lot of time and energy throwing stuff at the wall. Up here, I can think. I can process. I can run ideas by people who genuinely listen.
That’s something special about this place — people are willing to hear the stories you bring back. They take time with them. They sit with the weight of it.
You’re not often going to find folks here who can change the direction of an organization with a single check, but what you will find is people who care. And that matters. When I’ve been on the ground in these places, what people want more than anything is to know their lives — and their deaths — aren’t happening in anonymity.
Folks here help erase that anonymity, just by showing up and listening. That’s real work, even if they don’t realize they’re doing it.
How do you think about impact? There's one side, telling stories like Lilly, but also being on the ground in places like Yemen working with refugees. How do you think about personal impact?
I try not to think about it too much, honestly. My job — both as an artist and as someone doing humanitarian work — is to get myself out of the way.
I'm not a doctor. I’m not saving lives on the ground. My role is very specific: to be an apolitical listener. That comes from my life as an artist. I can sit with people, absorb what they’re telling me, let them know they’re seen and heard, and carry those stories back with accuracy and integrity.
My job is to keep the mirror clean.
Of course it affects me. I have opinions that are shaped by what I’ve seen, by the work I’ve done. My moral and ethical compass is constantly evolving because of those experiences.
But when I translate that into my work — whether it's advocacy or acting — I try to lead with neutrality. The only real exception is when I encounter injustice or human suffering on a massive scale. That outrage, I won’t apologize for.
Still, I’m proud that I’ve been able to sit down with people I fundamentally disagree with and find common ground on some of these issues. I’ve done that in humanitarian settings, and I’ve done it through the shows I’ve been in. That’s part of the job.
I get to have my opinions, but they have to be in service of something larger.
Has the experience of fatherhood changed the way that you choose your projects, in acting or advocacy?
Absolutely. If I’m going to take time away from my kids, it has to really mean something. It has to be a story I care about, or it has to involve people I admire and want to learn from. That’s shifted the goalposts in terms of what I’m willing to even look at.
Same goes for advocacy. I have to be really clear about when I’m going into dangerous places and why — because now there are little people depending on me.
At the same time, I want my kids to understand what the world looks like outside of this little bubble. That there are people everywhere who need help, and that it’s on us to pay attention.
I want to give them what my grandmother gave me: a sense that you’re supposed to be of service, that you build community, and that you offer whatever you can to people who need something.
So yeah — it’s changed everything. It’s made me more thoughtful, more selective. And it’s inspired everything I do in equal measure. Honestly, I’m growing just as fast as they are.
What do you hope to see for the Hudson Valley creative scene in the next five years?
I’m amazed by the number of craftspeople and folk artists here — you can't sling a rock without hitting four or five artists — and I’d love to see that part of the community get real support from the state. There’s good work happening on film tax credits, but the turnaround is glacial. That delay makes it hard to compete with places like New Jersey or Georgia, even though we have everything we need right here.
I’d love to see major companies invest in this region. There are so many opportunities — and we shouldn’t have to rely only on local hustlers. I grew up punk rock, so DIY is in my blood, but there’s only so much DIY can do when it comes to getting Netflix or Disney to build studios here.
The state needs to put more money and muscle behind the arts. Cultures aren’t remembered for their wars or bank accounts. They’re remembered for what they did with their resources. Look at the Renaissance.
Investing in arts and culture is investing in the health of a community—short-term and long-term. I'd love to see more of that here.
You can see a screening of Lilly followed by a Q&A with Patricia Clarkson and Thomas Sadoski at the Orpheum Theatre in Saugerties on Thursday, May 22, hosted by the Woodstock Film Festival. Get your tickets here:
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