On a farm in the outskirts of Los Angeles, sunlight dappled across a natural stage composed of haystacks, an old barn, and wooden fences. Walking further inside, one would find stage curtains and various chairs—it was like a physical studio that existed solely for photo shoots, with set designs from different production teams mingled together, creating a strong sense of organized chaos. François had a piece of apple in his mouth, playfully teasing a donkey right in front of him—an idea he had proposed himself. On set, he was both the performer frozen before the camera and the creator behind it. He actively engaged in communication with every member of the team, whether regarding scene composition or wardrobe adjustments, always hoping to deliver the best possible result through collaboration.
In today's era dominated by algorithms and attention, most characters are quickly defined: hero, villain, scumbag. Audiences are increasingly accustomed to understanding a person within seconds and rapidly making emotional judgments. Yet some actors deliberately disrupt this efficient labeling model — they make characters ambiguous, complex, impossible to casually categorize. François Arnaud is precisely one of the finest among them. Before rising to global fame for his role as "Scott" in Heated Rivalry, his life was pieced together from two completely different sets of geographical coordinates and lifestyles.
A Young Man's Seafood Platter
François Arnaud was born in Quebec, Canada—or more precisely, he belongs to Montreal. Because the winters there are windy year-round, his most profound childhood memory is wearing heavy snow pants in the pre-dawn light, waiting for the school bus. The sun is always especially stingy in January, and the bitter cold of growing up was always accompanied by a lingering seasonal melancholy. At the same time, he would travel to France almost every summer. The bright sun of southern France and the sea breeze of Brittany gave him a "migratory bird" lifestyle completely parallel to his North American life, filled with European aesthetics. Different friends, different interests, different cultural contexts—all of this made him realize early on: identity is not singular.
As a child, François Arnaud was not the kind of "natural-born performer" who would actively put on shows at family gatherings to entertain the elders. Quite the opposite—as a boy, he was quiet, introverted, even somewhat solitary. While his peers were all discussing Harry Potter, he insisted on reading Victor Hugo. Even though he couldn't fully understand it at the time, the moment he opened the book, he felt: "This is me." This subtle attempt at being "different" also manifested at the dinner table. This boy from North America would voluntarily order a large platter of varied, complex-to-eat local seafood when in France. His parents thought he was a little gourmet, but in reality, he was merely using his tastebuds to curiously explore whether that Europe—filled with history, architecture, and aesthetics—was truly his world.
At age nine, a film struck him—
Cyrano de Bergerac starring Gérard Depardieu. After returning home, François Arnaud began frantically memorizing those gorgeous, proud, and tragically colored lines from the play. "I think this is also why I ultimately became an actor, rather than a writer." François Arnaud knew that he had too many destructive and creative things inside him that wanted to be expressed, but he needed others to help him write those lines.
During adolescence, he began frequently visiting the independent cinema Cinéma du Parc in Montreal, sometimes three times a week. They screened various European films there and also held director meet-and-greets. Those films gradually shaped his aesthetic sensibility and gave him a certain "European vibe" that he later carried. But what was truly interesting was that he later lived in the United States for a long time. Thus, the young man who once thought of himself as "European-like" suddenly realized one day: he had actually long since become a North American.
This sense of rootlessness gives François a very special understanding of "identity." "
True identity is not something superficial like an accent." He can freely switch between Quebec French and French French, and can enter completely different states by using different languages. When filming his first Spanish-language movie, he even discovered: without deliberately acting at all, the new language would naturally change a person's rhythm, sense of humor, and way of communicating.
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Sometimes I don't even need to turn on the sound; just by looking at the movements in the video, I know which language I was speaking at the time." People who grow up between different cultures often realize earlier that there is no absolutely stable "self." And the profession of acting gives François a reason to constantly enter different personalities. Within a safe framework, he can dismantle his heavy psychological defenses from reality and complete an "inward exploration."
Making a Living by Understanding Humanity Is a Luxury in Itself
When Heated Rivalry went globally viral, people first talked about its boldness, audacity, and desire — only later did they slowly realize that what truly made it addictive was actually the sheer intensity of the emotions themselves: the mutual pulling, dependence, vulnerability, and hurt between the characters. "Many people thought it was just a series full of sexy elements, but later discovered it was actually very tear-jerking and very sincere." In François's view, the series unfolds its storyline in a way different from traditional narrative structures — each episode is like interpreting the same story from a different angle. And this multi-perspective narrative perfectly aligned with his inside-out acting philosophy.
He never starts by designing external physical movements or facial expressions, but first seeks the thread within the character's heart.
"I've always been more drawn to those whose intentions were good, but who ultimately messed everything up." As an actor, what interests him more is: why does a person do these things? Rather than simply judging them.
"The more you understand yourself, the more you'll discover: humans are actually quite similar. Each of us harbors various different forces within." This understanding also constitutes his approach to acting.
Heated Rivalry undoubtedly changed the lives of all its participants. In recent months, his daily life has begun to shift: on public transportation, at events, on the streets, people suddenly recognize him. But these sudden waves of attention seem not to have shaken his anchor of self-perception. In today's entertainment industry, "going viral" often means a personality reshaping—actors are quickly consumed, labeled, and even private emotions become public content—but François has always maintained a certain distance. He doesn't resist being seen, yet he is not obsessed with "being seen."
Therefore,
Heated Rivalry is by no means his endpoint, but rather more like a door suddenly pushed open. Behind it lies a bigger world and more complex characters. In the miniseries
Alice, he plays a cynical, power-hungry capitalist — a role completely different from his previous on-screen image.
In the film
Someone's Daughter, he plunges headfirst into a bottomless moral gray zone. It is a cat-and-mouse game about redemption, justice, and punishment.
"This film discusses some very cruel things: is 'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' right or wrong? Where are the boundaries of cruel behavior?" When talking about new roles, a creator's excitement flickers in François's eyes. He is never satisfied staying in his comfort zone; instead, he craves scripts that make him feel "uncomfortable" but enable him to grow.
For him, the rewards of acting have always belonged to the work itself. Whether on a multi-million-dollar blockbuster set or in a cramped basement avant-garde theater, the dedication and reverence he invests are equally unwavering. Being able to earn a living by "understanding himself" and "understanding humanity" — in François's eyes, this is in itself an extremely luxurious privilege.
He enjoys finding a pure collaborative atmosphere on set where "the best idea wins"—where everyone can speak freely and collectively deliver the most ideal result. He even admits, with a touch of endearing contradiction:
"I actually kind of wish I could have a screenwriter in my daily life to help me organize my language at all times. I like it when someone tells me what to do — even though deep down, I absolutely love to rebel."
Facing an unpredictable future, this Canadian man — who has waited in the heavy snows of Montreal and baked under the fierce sun of southern France — chooses to move forward with an exceedingly light-hearted posture.
"It's hard to predict what will succeed, so I choose to face life's surprises with humility, kindness, and... a little bit of madness."
L'OFFICIEL HOMMES in Conversation with François Arnaud
The intimate and emotionally intense scenes in Heated Rivalry resonated deeply with audiences. Did participating in this level of emotional and physical performance change your understanding of self-expression or emotional safety on set?
I've been very fortunate—most of the sets I've worked on throughout my career have made me feel safe. I know that's not the case for every set in the industry, and the set of Heated Rivalry was especially relaxed and enjoyable. Moreover, from early in my career, I've been involved in projects that place great importance on and protect actors' privacy.
When developing a character's wardrobe, how much of your own style do you incorporate?
Actually, quite a lot. Sometimes you read a script and immediately know what the character should look like; other times you need to feel your way around, but in the end, the character usually becomes a blend of "myself" and "the character as I imagine them.
In real life, my personal style used to be quite fixed: jeans, a T-shirt, plus a French work jacket—very much like a painter (laughs). Perfume was the same way. Back then I'd think: "This is how I want the world to see me." But gradually I discovered that a person can actually have many different facets. Trying out different states is actually really fun. And I particularly like working with collaborative directors. Film is inherently a collective creation—an excellent director will steer the direction but also be willing to let everyone play to their strengths. I also love listening to costume designers' opinions. Everyone discusses together, and ultimately the best ideas are the ones that stay.
How do you define success as an actor? Is it based on audience feedback, awards, or inner fulfillment? Has this understanding changed over the course of your career?
That definition is always changing. I have so many things I want to try; I just hope to keep having opportunities to attempt them. Usually, I hope to receive better scripts — scripts that genuinely ignite my creative passion. Right now there are so many mediocre, utilitarian projects out there, so trusting your intuition is important. I've always believed that the most personal projects are the ones most likely to resonate with a wide audience. Perhaps that's naive, but I stand by it.
