What should we think of the beef between Guy Pearce and Kevin Spacey?

L.A. Confidential, a classic noir film released nearly thirty years ago—a legend we thought had been cemented in cinematic history—has recently taken an unexpected turn in its afterlife.

One of the film’s three leading actors, Guy Pearce, is currently in the spotlight. His performance in The Brutalist has earned this seasoned actor his first-ever Oscar nomination. During an awards-season interview with The Hollywood Reporter, he became visibly emotional when recalling his experience filming L.A. Confidential, choking up in front of the host and the live audience.

The source of his trauma? His co-star Kevin Spacey’s inappropriate behavior. Pearce had mentioned this back in 2018 during an Australian talk show, describing Spacey as a "handsy guy." However, he later clarified that while he had felt uncomfortable with Spacey’s behavior, he had not been sexually assaulted or harassed and even apologized for bringing it up.

Yet, Spacey's past behavior still weighs on Pearce. In his Hollywood Reporter interview, he revisited the subject, though he still refrains from labeling himself a "victim." But Spacey’s advances had made him deeply uncomfortable:

I tried to brush it off, thinking, ‘Ah, that’s nothing. Ah, no, that’s nothing. I did that for five months, and really, I was sort of scared of Kevin because he’s quite an aggressive man. He’s extremely charming and brilliant at what he does. He holds a room remarkably. But I was young and susceptible, and he targeted me, no question.

Pearce and Spacey did not share extensive screen time in L.A. Confidential. Pearce’s primary scene partner was Russell Crowe, and their chemistry was palpable. Their “good cop, bad cop” dynamic made them a perfect detective duo, and their friendship, forged as fellow actors from the same region (Pearce is Australian, Crowe is from New Zealand), has endured to this day.

However, both on-screen and behind the scenes—though we may not have witnessed it, we can easily imagine—the power dynamic between Spacey and Pearce was unmistakable. In the film, Spacey’s character, Jack Vincennes, is a star detective, while Pearce’s Ed Exley is just a rookie. Off-screen, Spacey had just won an Oscar, while Pearce was merely an aspiring Hollywood newcomer from New Zealand. If Spacey was indeed as aggressive as Pearce described, it's not hard to imagine the oppressive nature of their relationship.

It’s evident that Pearce has struggled to move past this experience, yet he was too intimidated by Spacey’s Hollywood influence to speak out. It wasn't until 2017, when Spacey was accused of sexual misconduct and subsequently canceled by Hollywood, that Pearce gradually began to share his story: "I don’t want to dwell on my conflicts with him, but I also don’t want him to get away with what he gets away with.”

Of course, all of these claims come solely from Pearce. However, after Spacey publicly responded to Pearce on Twitter, the situation became clearer—Spacey all but confirmed that he had indeed set his sights on Pearce.

In his response, Spacey employed two strategies:

Attacking Pearce for speaking out in public: "If you felt uncomfortable, you should have told me directly, and we could have resolved this privately. Taking it public only makes you look like a crybaby."

Dismissing Pearce’s emotions: "If you were so unhappy, why didn’t you confront me then? As a matter of fact, you even visited me on the set of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil the following year to ask for acting advice. Does that fit your ‘victim narrative’?"

Rather than clearing his name, Spacey’s counterattack only solidified suspicions against him. His approach follows a textbook pattern used by perpetrators of sexual misconduct:

Invalidating the victim’s emotions: Abusers refuse to acknowledge the psychological harm they cause, denying the reality that victims often take years to process and come to terms with their trauma.

Attempting to control the conversation in private: Abusers prefer to engage with their victims in private settings, where they can regain dominance and keep their actions hidden from public scrutiny.

As outsiders without direct evidence, we cannot conclusively determine Spacey’s guilt. However, from a psychological perspective, his reaction aligns disturbingly well with the behavioral profile of an abuser. Even though he was recently acquitted of sexual assault charges in a UK court, the fact that Hollywood has almost unanimously abandoned him speaks volumes—industry insiders likely know more than the general public.

Looking back at L.A. Confidential, I realize that Spacey truly was a great actor. He portrayed a jaded yet secretly righteous detective with remarkable nuance. And yet, in real life, he seems to be the complete opposite of the character he once so convincingly played.

Spacey’s appearance in his response video also paints an unflattering picture. He is seen in a bleak, sparsely furnished room, disheveled, with an unkempt beard and tattered clothing. His demeanor and words are laced with bitterness, making for an unsettling image.

Let me reiterate my stance on Spacey: He was a great actor. His iconic performances—whether as John Doe in Se7en or Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects—should not be erased from film history. But he is now an actor I no longer wish to see. As a human being, his repulsiveness rivals that of the villains he once portrayed.

I do not oppose art, and Spacey was—perhaps still is—an artist. But I deeply resent filth being paraded before my eyes. And I reserve the right to turn away from it.