Photographer: Allie Hine
Stylist: Madison Reynolds
Interview: @ouchmagazineny
Hollywood has long been built on aspiration, but you've said audiences are craving something far more honest now. What does "real" look like to you on screen, and why do you think that shift is happening at this particular moment?
I think there are really two camps happening at once. With so much happening in AI right now, audiences either want real, raw, and authentic, or they want old-school Hollywood, and I don't think that's a coincidence. When so much of what we see created or manipulated, people start craving proof of something real on one end, and the untouchable fantasy Hollywood was built on at the other. There's no real in-between anymore; both sides feel like a reaction to the same thing.
On one hand, there's been a huge shift on social media toward honesty, influencers aren't chasing the perfectly filtered photo anymore, they're talking straight to camera, in real time, with an actual point of view. People want candid, they want to know what's really going on, and that appetite has absolutely bled into film and television. There's a real hunger for naturalness, for performances and stories that feel attainable rather than untouchable.
But at the same time, there's a whole other audience craving old-school Hollywood. They want real film, real people, real craftsmanship, but they also want the timeless imagery Hollywood built its whole identity on: the glamour, the star power, the epic, larger-than-life stories, the fantasy of it all. I think being able to have both is great. If you want to lean into one, you can. If you want to lean into the other, you can too. Or you can be a bit of both.
Across your upcoming projects—from The Razor's Edge to Bad Day and The Spot—there's a thread of women who endure, adapt, and surprise themselves. What keeps drawing you back to characters who find strength in the messiness rather than the triumph?
Real life is messy, and honestly, that's the fun of it. Rolling up your sleeves and digging in is where you actually grow, where you learn, where you become your best self. The trick is just to keep going, don't give up. You'll eventually win, and then, almost immediately, you'll face another challenge. Personally, I thrive in mess. The second I clean one thing up, there's already another one waiting. Maybe that's art imitating life here, or life imitating art, either way, it's exactly why I'm drawn to characters who have to fight for their strength rather than characters who already have it all figured out. But who actually has it all figured out, truly? Send me their contact, their email, their Instagram, whatever it is, I need to know their secret.
You've worked in casting, production, photography, coaching, and now run WV4 Productions. How has seeing the industry from so many different angles changed the kind of stories you want to tell—and the kind of creative leader you want to be?
Honestly, it's less about a creative shift and more of a practical one. Working in so many of these positions has made me deeply aware of production value as a whole, what things really cost. When I write now, I'm thinking about budget in every single scene. I know exactly what I can and can't do, and strangely, that's incredibly freeing rather than limiting. Knowing what things cost hasn't limited me as a creative, it's a practical viewpoint that lets me build step by step instead. Seeing production from the inside out has given me more confidence across the board, because I see how the whole machine works, not just my piece of it. It doesn't box me in creatively, I can still write my dream script, I'm just realistic about what it would actually take to get it made. That awareness has also given me a real appreciation for what a miracle it is that any project gets made at all, every role on set matters to that outcome, which is exactly why I try to treat everyone, no matter their position, with real respect.
As a creative leader, I'm surprisingly practical and grounded. I work hard, and I genuinely enjoy the collaborative process of making art with other people. I'm focused, but at the core of it, I truly love making people smile.
The entertainment industry has been forced to rethink itself after the strikes, and many artists have spoken about feeling isolated or uncertain. How do you hope WV4 Productions helps create a more collaborative, less fear-driven version of Hollywood?
When times get tough, I put my head down and just do the work. I can't give in to gloom and doom, and honestly, I've always reframed hard times as opportunities and made the most of them. I'm generally not a complainer, and I try not to feed negative talk. I look for the best in a situation, almost by default at this point. Since the strikes, I've actually had the best two, almost three, years of my career. It's a mindset I've trained myself into over time, and it just keeps proving me right.
There will always be people who believe in mindset, and people who think it's fluff. Everyone takes away what they take away, and I can't control that. The best thing I can do, really the only thing, is show up collaborative and optimistic, and maybe that inspires other people to do and feel the same. That's really all I can offer through the work, and through WV4.
Authenticity has become something of a buzzword, but you've built part of your career around helping people feel comfortable enough to be themselves on camera. What do you think people misunderstand most about authenticity, especially in an industry built on performance?
That's actually a hard question to answer, because I don't think authenticity and performance are opposites. You can absolutely have an authentic performance, a great actor can perform authentically, and what reads as "authentic" is honestly pretty subjective from person to person. I think there's a whole cultural wave right now demanding that everything be "authentic," and that word gets used so often it's become hard to actually parse out what people even mean by it. I think that's the real misunderstanding: people treat authenticity like it's the opposite of craft or preparation, like the moment you're skilled or polished, it stops being real. But for me, authenticity is actually a mixture of confidence, relaxation, preparedness, and experience. When those things are in place, it naturally comes through. It's not the absence of performance, it's what good performance is built on.
Your life seems to exist in two very different worlds: film sets and a regenerative farm in Maryland. Do those spaces actually have more in common than people might assume?
Between New York, Georgia, and visits to my family's farm in Deep Creek, Maryland, I'm genuinely living in a few different worlds at once. Running a farm is a lot like running a film set. You work every day, long hours, there are a hundred moving parts, and anything can go wrong at any moment. And you have to genuinely love what you do, because that's the only thing that gets you through it. My sister Julie, who runs the farm, truly loves what she does. It's hard, physical work, but it leaves a real impact, on the environment, on people's health, on the land itself. She loves creating meals and events, bringing people together around something real. Honestly, that's exactly what most filmmakers aspire to do too: create something that leaves a mark and brings people together around a shared experience.
Conversations around sustainability can often feel overwhelming or all-or-nothing. Your approach feels more empathetic. How do you talk about regenerative farming in a way that invites people into the conversation instead of making them feel judged?
I never bring it up unless someone asks first. I genuinely hate giving unsolicited advice. It's a talk less, show more approach. When people meet me and I'm looking and feeling great, they get curious, and they ask. That's when I'll tell them all about the farm, what I eat, everything my sister has taught me, including her product, Lather, which has become a real staple for our family. It's a lotion made from pig lard! If I can drop a little nugget here or there that helps someone, that's wonderful, but health is such a deeply personal thing, everyone is making their own decisions, and I really do honor that.
You support animal rescue, community-centered agriculture, and storytelling that reflects real lives. Is there a common thread connecting the causes you champion and the roles you choose?
Honestly, I think it comes back to being from Pittsburgh. I'm a salt-of-the-earth person at my core, and I think that shows up in almost everything I gravitate toward. I love animals, volunteering at animal shelters has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, even though some of what I saw there was genuinely upsetting, neglect cases, injuries, animals overlooked again and again. Regenerative farming comes from that same place for me: it nourishes the land and the body, and it does the least harm to the animals involved. I don't think any of this is some grand cause I've adopted, it's really just an extension of who I already am. And I think that's true of the roles I choose too. I'm drawn to characters who are real, a little rough around the edges, unpolished in an honest way, not because I'm trying to make a statement, but because that's genuinely what feels true to me.
You trained under Bill Esper, perform with The Collective NYC, and have steadily built a career across film, television, and commercial work. Looking back, what advice from your early years has stayed with you—even as Hollywood continues to reinvent itself? Bill Esper was the greatest teacher I ever had. Most of the actors in The Collective NYC actually studied at the Esper Studio too, so there's a real shared language among us. Bill's the one who first said that it's a miracle any project gets made at all, a line that's stuck with me ever since and shaped how I've approached every set I've walked onto. But his biggest lesson, the one that's truly timeless, was moment-to-moment truth in acting. No matter how many times Hollywood reinvents itself, whether it's the rise of streaming, AI, or whatever comes next, truthful, moment-to-moment acting will always be what actually reigns.
When audiences watch your work over the next year, what do you hope they walk away feeling—not about Ava as an actor, but about themselves?
Honestly, my hope is simple: that people feel like their time wasn't wasted, if they walk away inspired, tickled, or just plain entertained, any one of those feels like a win. And maybe they also walk away feeling, "hey, I want to see more of her." That would be nice.
Without giving too much away, what was it about The Razor's Edge that made you say yes? Was there a particular moment in the script—or in your character—that lingered with you long after you finished reading it? Without giving too much away, I've always loved a complicated father-daughter relationship. There's something in showing all of that love, alongside the messier, more conflicted feelings that come with it, the protectiveness, the resentment, the loyalty that holds even when things get hard. Being able to play through all these emotions really drew me to the script.
