In April, the trade papers learned that Frank Langella had been suspended and then fired from Netflix’s production of The Fall of the House of Usher. Netflix was adapting the Edgar Allan Poe short story into a miniseries, with Langella playing Roderick Usher. They had already filmed a chunk of the series when Langella was fired for what Netflix called “unacceptable conduct” on set. Langella was swiftly replaced by Bruce Greenwood and Netflix sources say that they will not use any footage shot with Langella. So exactly what was Langella’s “unacceptable conduct”? Well… we knew that it was something in the vein of sexual harassment or inappropriate behavior around a woman involved with the production. Now, weeks after his firing, Langella wrote out a pissy, ridiculous statement to Deadline. He blasted Netflix for “canceling” him and then he tries to explain what he did “wrong” while insisting that his behavior was actually perfectly acceptable. He made everything so much worse, OMG.

On April 14 of this year, I was fired by Netflix for what they determined to be unacceptable behavior on set. My first instinct was to blame. To lash out and seek vengeance. I interviewed crisis managers, tough connected lawyers, the professionally sympathetic at $800 per hour. Free advice was proffered as well: “Don’t play the victim.” “Don’t sue. They’ll dig into your past.” “Sign the NDA, take the money and run.” “Do the talk shows, show contrition, feign humility. Say you’ve learned a lot.” Apologize. Apologize. Apologize.

On March 25 of this year, I was performing a love scene with the actress playing my young wife. Both of us were fully clothed. I was sitting on a couch, she was standing in front of me. The director called “cut.” “He touched my leg,” said the actress. “That was not in the blocking.” She then turned and walked off the set, followed by the director and the intimacy coordinator. I attempted to follow but was asked to “give her some space.” I waited for approximately one hour, and was then told she was not returning to set and we were wrapped.

Not long after, an investigation began. Approximately one week later, Human Resources asked to speak to me by phone. “Before the love scene began on March 25,” said the questioner, “our intimacy coordinator suggested where you both should put your hands. It has been brought to our attention that you said, ‘This is absurd!’” “Yes,” I said, “I did. And I still think so.” It was a love scene on camera. Legislating the placement of hands, to my mind, is ludicrous. It undermines instinct and spontaneity. Toward the end of our conversation, she suggested that I not contact the young lady, the intimacy coordinator, or anyone else in the company. “We don’t want to risk retaliation,” she said. When I mentioned that it was certainly not my intention to … she cut me off politely and said: “Intention is not our concern. Netflix deals only with impact.”

When you are the leading actor, it requires, in my opinion, that you set an example by keeping the atmosphere light and friendly. Nevertheless, these were some of the allegations: 1. “He told an off-color joke. 2. “Sometimes he called me ‘baby’ or ‘honey.’” 3. “He’d give me a hug or touch my shoulder.”

“You cannot do that, Frank,” said our producer. “You can’t joke. You can’t compliment. You can’t touch. It’s a new order.”

[From Deadline]

There’s more in his crotchety essay, but let’s just keep it to the facts as he fully admits – he was told what he should and should not do by the intimacy coordinator and he fought with the coordinator. Then he touched the actress’s legs, which had not been part of the intimacy-coordination or blocking. He was also telling inappropriate jokes, calling women “baby” and “honey” and he was touchy and gropey with women off-camera. Again, he’s fully admitting that he did all of that, and he considers this an instance of cancel culture. I’m so glad that Netlix took a hard line on this and just fired him quickly. Holy sh-t.

Photos courtesy of Avalon Red.