In person, Lee Pace exudes an almost freakish calm — a certain blend of contentedness and confidence that makes it seem like he’s uncovered some secret knowledge. He comes off, in the most Platonic sense, deeply chill.

In search of this apparent zen myself, perhaps, I ask him what’s most exciting in his life right now. He’s about to hit the road for a slew of events celebrating the release of one of this fall’s most anticipated films, The Running Man, in which he plays the villain opposite Glen Powell. “I mean, I’m such a boring person,” he responds, grinning, turning toward me on an Upper East Side bench. “My garden.”

He continues, “I’ve been listening to the Ron Chernow biography of George Washington. And as he was fighting the Revolutionary War, it would be, like, the eve of one of the great battles, and he’s writing a letter to his property manager or architect, someone back at Mount Vernon, suggesting a hedge or wanting to plant a row of trees.” He pauses, looking into the distance as a uniformed soccer team marches by, weaving through bikers and joggers. “He had this incredible refuge of thinking about that farm and his home while he was away fighting that war. And I was listening to this and thinking, ’Yeah, me too, I do that same thing. I think about my farm so much when I’m away.’” 

When I ask Pace if he likes playing the enemy — he’ll also voice a villain in the upcoming season of the popular Invincible series — he laughs. “It’s enjoyable to me to play characters,” he says. “This was never an intention; it’s more just what happened, how I was cast. They’ve been insanely diverse. I mean, I’ve played an elf, I’ve played an alien, an assortment of humans… and I look at it all and, I’m like, ‘Hasn’t this been a surprise?’”

Pace is thoughtful and circumspect when talking about his craft. At one point, he mentions that it took him years to shake off the aftereffects of playing Joe Pitt, a closeted Mormon Republican lawyer, in the 2018 Broadway production of Angels in America opposite Andrew Garfield. “[He’s] a beast of a character who has these punishing experiences. But we survived it,” he says of playing Pitt. “Once you get to the end, you’re like, ‘Well, damn, that happened.’ But given years of hindsight and reflection, it feels like a privilege.” He uses a visceral metaphor to describe the impression his characters leave on him. “I recently came to think about [my roles] as growths inside of me,” he says as we stroll down Madison Avenue. “Some of them are minor growths that you don’t even notice anymore. Some of them are big; some of them can be painful. Some of them are pretty wonderful and kind of weird, grotesque things that you carry with you in a fun way.” It’s clear that Pace’s past experiences influence his career decisions, helping to nurture what’s under the soil, what might bloom down the line.

Perhaps it makes sense that Pace’s garden — its roots, its hominess, its consistency — is so important to him. He grew up mostly in Texas, in a suburb near Houston. “When I go back, it’s such a nice place to be from,” he says. “I definitely feel the Texan me. But for most of my life we were moving around.” The family went back and forth between Louisiana, and even to Saudi Arabia for a time. “I’m not really from anywhere,” Pace concludes. 

It’s hard to imagine a terrain where he wouldn’t be able to find his footing. But Pace says that these days he feels most comfortable in New York, although it’s rare that he’s here for a month straight without having to leave for work. “I’ve been in New York in one form or another since I was 17. So I can’t imagine being anywhere else,” he says. “There are times when I love it, and there are times when it’s a really frustrating place to live, crowded, changing in ways. I guess that’s part of getting older: things change.” 

It’s clear that, no matter where he might be filming or what red carpet he might be walking down, that garden, that farm upstate, is a fixture at the back of his mind — a fundamental part of his essence at this point in life. I ask Pace how things have shifted in his 40s, if some of this sense of comfort has come with age.

“It’s a privilege to age,” he says. “And 40 is… you’re an adult. If you’re still carrying some illusion that you’re in your youth, you need to mature. You have life experiences, you know your preferences, you know the people you want to be around. When you’re young, you’re still trying people on, you’re trying to figure it out. My instruments are more attuned now to the company I want to keep.”

They are also, perhaps, more attuned to the way he presents to the world. Which is to say, Pace has relaxed a bit into his personal style. “I have four pairs of jeans, and they all look the same,” he says. “I wear a lot of white T-shirts and jeans and sneakers. And I will wear the same thing again and again. There are times I look in my closet and I’m like, ‘What is all this shit?’” 

Before Pace jumps in a cab headed downtown, I mention that, as a feeble start on a version of a garden, maybe I’ll buy flowers for my apartment in the near future. Pace’s face comes to life, and he tells me about his favorite kind, African marigolds. “If you keep the water fresh on them, they’ll grow and grow and grow,” he says. “The buds will come; new flowers will emerge out of the green.”