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Clayton Davis
Chief Awards Editor
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Robert Aramayo is kicking back, eating a doughnut.
A red box of SK’s Donuts sits open on the table between us, lid flipped back, “Best Donuts in Los Angeles, Est. 1989” stamped across the top.
I joke with Aramayo before the mics are hot: This is why I booked the interview. I wanted some free food. He laughs, tears off a piece of a glazed and settles in as we sit outdoors on Variety’s rooftop. He’s four days into a Los Angeles trip for meetings, the kind of week where you shake a lot of hands. Nobody tells you what they’re for, and he’s doing it as the reigning BAFTA best actor victor for a movie most of America hasn’t gotten around to yet.
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