This interview contains spoilers for Sunday night’s episode of “The Righteous Gemstones”.
The first thing to know is that the testicles are fake – in one of the shots, at least. Anyone who watched Sunday night’s episode of the HBO televangelist family satire, “The Righteous Gemstones,” knows which shot.
Near the end of the episode, the sixth of Season 3, Tim Baltz’s character, BJ, gets into a fight with a naked man who has splashed across a suburban front lawn. When BJ seems to be getting cold, his eyes dart around and he reaches out, touches, twists. Neighborhood children watch in horror.
In an instant, the usually mild BJ has great success in hand. Her nemesis, philandering Christian rock guitarist Stephen (Stephen Schneider), goes down on his knees and pays a cruel price for his affair with B.J’s. husband (Edie Patterson).
It was a difficult scene to film, Baltz said last month via video from his home in Los Angeles, and not just because of the endless takes. He also did most of his own stunts — and accidentally got punched in the face a few times.
“There were a lot of little quick decisions that could have hurt us, or barely avoided injury,” Baltz said of shooting the scene, which took an entire day. He added: “That was the worst day of work I’ve ever had.”
Baltz grew up in Joliet, Ill., near Chicago, and he has the kind of boyish blond looks, deadpan delivery and cheery Midwestern affect that can be hard to tell if he’s giving you away. (Given the circumstances, I believed him about the shoot.) That affect is one reason he is so convincing as BJ, a sensitive soul who lets his wife dress him in shiny pink romper and who Rollerblades in full protective gear: Hard to believe anyone could Really be earnest; BJ keeps surprising you because he is really is.
“Despite being an atheist or a non-believer, he’s the most religious and religious character on the show,” Baltz said. “Which is strange,” he added, for a character who married into a family of preachers.
BJ might also be the most meme-worthy character on “Gemstones,” which is saying something for a show created by and starring Danny McBride. Baltz talked about the character, his costumes and the true value of BJ’s fight. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
First things first: How did you choreograph that, uh, decisive shot?
That fight scene took a whole day to film. When we got outside, we were worried about losing the light, and as the camera looked up, the camera was moving, I had to get these fake testicles. I’m looking at Stephen, who’s barely covering his own junk, and I’m like: “Okay man, here we go, and we’ve got to fix this for the camera, too.”
There was a stuntman involved for at least some of your parts, right?
Yes. My stunt double for the show was a guy named T. Ryan Mooney, who looked surprisingly like me. Same body type, too. I honestly don’t think I look like BJ in real life, but I’ve never felt more like myself than when I watch a guy who looks like me and has my body type do crazy stunts, and do it’s his. to live. This is a type of bleaching. But aside from BJ getting dumped making the lattice or when he’s being dragged down the brick steps to the front yard, every shot you’ll see, I did.
Stephen looks like a champ as he made the whole part naked. What are your conversations about the scene?
He is really good. She wrestles with whether she should go au naturel or use a prosthetic. It ended up being the last shoot day of the season for both of us, so there was a lot of buildup and anticipation. Stephen would come into town every few months to film stuff, and I’d say, “Let me take you out to dinner, man, because we’re going to have a great day.” And then in the middle of the season, he was like: “I’m going to do it. I’m going to strip. I just think there are so many challenges in life, and I see this as a challenge.”
Maybe he needs to get your permission.
I mean, the intimacy coordinator actually called several times to prepare me. But to me, it’s more like: “Okay, this guy is really weak at this. So every time he comes into town, we’ll meet each other so we can be friends like this.” And honestly, it really worked. In the end, I consider him a dear friend, this naked person I have to fight.
You’ve played with this image of graceful vanity over the years. How much of that do you feel?
I grew up playing sports — I was hypercompetitive. I’m not really like that [B.J.] to everyone. If I can relate to the character in any way, it’s the kindness and the generosity that he has, and I think a lot of people see that as a mark in our society.
When you book something, lean into it as much as you can whether it’s a good character or a scary person. But this one in particular you need to understand, Where does unconditional love come from? And how do I get in touch with it? In this season that’s really being tested for the first time, and it’s being tested so hard that he thinks he needs to change who he is. And the fight scene is the culmination of that.
After the match, BJ tells Judy, “I hope you like me now.” Does he feel worse about beating Stephen than he does about beating himself?
I think he was more hurt by the betrayal of his own values. Danny always said: “When you play BJ, he is the eyes of the audience within the show. He looks at family the way we all look at family.” I carry that with me the whole time. So that moment was, “Not only did you deceive me, but you made me betray myself.”
Do you think there is any part of standing up for himself that he does in a positive way?
I think. It’s an amazing character evolution. When I first read it, I was excited because I think it lays that card on the table for him. I think parts of our culture see something like this as a rite of passage, or something you have to rise to the occasion to do. So in that sense, he does. But when he comes back, you might as well look at the last line that says, “I’m not the same, so I hope you like what’s changed in me.” You can’t go back after that.
It’s like a more complicated George McFly moment.
That’s right. The sliding-door part of that [“Back to the Future”] trilogy you see what happens if he does not punch, and his life is miserable. And then if he throws the punch, everyone is saved and the family is OK. With that, I think BJ probably looks at it and is like, “No, that’s a door where I can go back and forth from what I see fit right now.” Actually, his values were, “You shouldn’t do that.” He was forced to do so, and he rose to the occasion. But if given a choice, he probably won’t.
Can we talk about clothes? There is a wonderful dimension to them, and I always wonder what that means.
There is a mixture of several things. First, I think he starts out as Judy’s kept man; it was her wardrobe for her, and she was a little out of place. And then I think he gets more comfortable with it and starts taking bigger swings. Also, if you walk down King Street in Charleston [S.C., where the series is filmed], you will see men dressed like that. Maybe not that rich, but the color palettes — a lot of pastels.
Lots of salmon.
Before I actually explored Charleston and saw some of these outfits, I thought, “Whoa, this is really out there.” And then in the real world you see it, and these people are no joke. They continue with their regular lives. I always say that if BJ is a Christian holiday, it’s Easter because of pastels. And it’s my job to be comfortable and live in those clothes without making them the point of a joke.