Alicia Vikander

In Ex Machina (2015), Alicia Vikander’s Ava seems to weigh the effort of each reply before she gives it. She pays such careful attention to Caleb that a conversation starts to feel like an offer of understanding. We felt protective of her, then uneasy about how readily we had taken her side, because that listening had been enough to persuade us. Vikander makes the exchange tense without reducing Ava to a collection of mechanical gestures. We keep looking for a feeling we can recognise and finding reasons to look again.

Her international emergence came with Anna Karenina (2012) and A Royal Affair (2012), followed by the broader recognition of Ex Machina and The Danish Girl (2015). The subsequent work moves between studio action and independent films. Hope (2026), Na Hong-jin’s creature feature, earns our recommendation chiefly for its well-staged pursuit sequences. Across these changes, Vikander’s controlled movement and small shifts of expression remain the habits we notice most.

Alex Garland gives that approach room in the conversations in Ex Machina, allowing Ava’s attention to work on us without immediately explaining it. Vikander’s precision never becomes a straightforward imitation of a machine, which keeps the questions about her interesting. The screenplay is less disciplined: it sometimes explains too much, and the plotting becomes foreseeable. Those weaknesses matter in a thriller, but her performance keeps us involved even when we can see where the writing is going. We would rather stay with Ava’s careful responses than have another question spelt out.

There is a limit to what that control can do. In Tomb Raider (2018), her Lara Croft can seem too poised, with a reserve that puts some distance between us and the lighter material. We admire the care, but would welcome more ease when the role calls for it. For an introduction to Vikander, start with Ex Machina and watch how little she needs to do to secure our sympathy. Be careful about deciding what that sympathy tells us about Ava.