The day we meet Jannis Niewöhner is sunny, perhaps one of the sunniest of the year so far. He’s joining via video call, relaxed, with a cheeky smile and a fresh, steaming coffee in hand. A modern kitchen hums in the background. Just like any regular person on a regular morning. But Niewöhner is, at least in a way, not quite “any regular person”. Since his TV debut in 2002, he has become one of the best-known names in the German film industry, built on complex and mesmerizing performances in films like 4 Kings (2015), Confessions of Felix Krull (2021), and Hagen (2024).
The movies he usually stars in resist easy categorization. But if you had to try, you might say they’re drawn to social ambiguity, to characters who are neither simply good nor simply evil. Roles that make you dream, roles that make you fear, roles that make you grieve, and roles that leave you wondering what actually makes a person “good” or “evil” in the first place.
At the same time, his latest performance is a different kind of challenge altogether: as Viktor in Mia Maariel Meyer’s 22 Lengths (2025), Niewöhner works almost entirely in silence. That means no big speeches, no grand gestures. Just expressions, subtle interactions, and small details that reveal the pain swimming just beneath the surface. It’s not an easy character to inhabit. And yet (or perhaps precisely because of that) it earned him the nomination for Best Supporting Actor at the 2026 German Film Awards.
So, while the Krefeld-born actor continues to sip his coffee, we sit down to dive into a conversation about growing up in the film industry, about the nomination and the ceremony this week. We talk about freestyle swimming, about big words like “empathy” and “humanity,” and about which of his films you’d have to watch to truly understand him.
AMELIE BACHERT Hi Jannis, what do you get up to when you have time off?
JANNIS NIEWÖHNER Sports, seeing people. Yesterday I went to the theatre. And I’m currently taking voice training.
AB That sounds pretty relaxed. What show did you see?
JN It’s about two East German brothers, born just after reunification in this tiny nowhere town. You watch the far-right scene around them, the pull of it, the way it creeps in. It’s a story you’ve seen before, like in This Is England (2006). But what was interesting is that it doesn’t happen at 18 or 19. They act out a bit, the way any teenager does. Then there’s a jump to their mid-to-late twenties, and that’s when the anger surfaces. And because you’re really living with them for two hours straight, while watching the play, you come away with this gut-level understanding of where all that rage actually comes from. It’s scary and fascinating at the same time.
AB Interesting. And incredibly relevant right now. So, are you personally passionate about film and theatre as well?
JN Totally, yeah. But like everyone, I think, I’m overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff out there. And then you always have to find the right moment for the right film.
AB You started acting as a child. What was it like seeing yourself on TV for the very first time?
JN It was exciting, of course. It was a Tatort. But what I really remember is an interview for a local village magazine. They picked the headline: “He bought a used racing bike for 300 euros with his first paycheck.” That somehow really annoyed me. I don’t even know why, but that’s the first thing that comes to my mind.
AB Since then, you’ve celebrated so many premieres. It’s really impressive. Do you still get nervous before walking a red carpet?
JN Yeah, definitely. But you have to distinguish between different kinds of nervousness. A lot of people experience it as fear or something unpleasant. For me it’s usually more of an excited anticipation.
AB In a few days you’ll be back on the red carpet for the German Film Awards. How does it feel to be nominated for Best Supporting Actor?
JN I’m really excited for the ceremony. It’s just incredibly nice to be nominated, especially because it’s such a strong year with so many films being honored. The whole diversity of German cinema, with all its different voices, is represented and celebrated that evening. Being part of that feels really special.
AB The role you’re nominated for, Viktor in 22 Lengths, carries a lot of grief. It’s a very complex character. What first grabbed you about Viktor when you read the script?
JN What fascinated me was that he functions through stillness. I immediately knew it would be a challenge because this guy keeps such a distance from everyone around him. From Tilda, for example, but also from the audience in a way. You get very little information about him. Sometimes just a single word or sentence. Otherwise, it’s mostly looks and this kind of coldness. But at the same time, you still have to feel that underneath there’s something very warm, intense, and deeply painful. A pain that’s only allowed to break open at the very end of the story. That really drew me in.
AB What was the biggest challenge during filming?
JN On the one hand, it was about telling so much through silence, about conveying so much about a character with so little dialogue. On the other hand, freestyle swimming, honestly. I never learned it as a kid. For two months before the shoot, I trained nonstop just to learn how to do it, and I barely managed. It was really frustrating because other things I’d had to learn before, like fight scenes or horseback riding, always came pretty quickly and naturally. But with freestyle swimming, in the water, there’s something in me that just can’t fully let go. I also can’t do that thing where you float motionless on the surface. That always annoys me so much.
AB I can’t do freestyle either. I get it. 22 Lengths is also based on a novel with a huge fan base. Do you feel extra pressure with an adaptation like that?
JN No, probably because I’ve already done several adaptations, I don’t really think about it anymore. In the end, you can never make everyone happy anyway. And if you only do something to please other people, it won’t turn out good because nothing personal is left in it. That thought actually helps me not give it too much weight.
AB Your filmography also includes a lot of historical and even mythical figures: Goldmund, Felix Krull, and Siegfried. What draws you to characters like that?
JN I don’t even know, it’s interesting because I wouldn’t say I consciously focus on those kinds of roles. They somehow just came to me, and of course I enjoyed playing them. What always interested me was when there was an attempt to portray these supposed heroic figures in a more fractured way and give them a certain vulnerability. Sometimes that worked better than others. But I’m also very interested in playing other roles.
AB Is there a role you’d absolutely love to play right now?
JN That’s always hard to say because you can only really describe a role once you’ve read it. But right now, I’m interested in playing more people who fail and who get hit harder by life. I’ve played that before too, but I think I’d really enjoy going back to it. People who are chaotic and don’t really have their lives together. People who are complex in their humanity.
AB Do you have an example?
JN One of the most incredible performances for me last year was Sam Rockwell in the third season of The White Lotus (2025). There’s this scene where he reconnects with an old friend and basically tells the story of his whole life. The scene is unbelievably well written, it’s in a fantastic series, and then it’s performed so incredibly well too. He’s not really doing much, he’s basically just sitting there talking. But everything happening inside that character, and the way he tells it, is amazing. Getting to play something like that would be such a gift.
AB Yeah, that scene was really impressive.
JN Totally.
AB The German Film Awards are one of the biggest honors in German cinema. As you said yourself earlier, they represent the entire diversity of the industry. Are there topics you think film and television should address more strongly?
JN I do feel like a lot of productions today try to include as many social issues as possible. Sometimes almost too many, to the point where the focus on one clear theme gets lost. For me, the greatest strength of film is that it brings us together as people because we get to follow characters over a longer period of time and connect with them, even if they initially seem far away from us. I think it’s important for compassion, forgiveness, and understanding each other to also understand where people come from, without necessarily approving or condemning their actions. In the play I saw yesterday, which I told you about, you follow someone through their life until they become someone who beats people up and makes far-right podcasts. And that’s exactly what’s valuable about it, not to justify it, but to understand where it comes from and to still recognize something human even in those actions.
AB Yeah, that’s the only way we can really understand others and learn to deal with different opinions, to also find solutions.
JN I think film should keep showing that. At the same time, the way social media works today sometimes leads to characters only being allowed to be “good” people because audiences need to identify with them. But I think it’s important that characters are allowed to be flawed or even evil, while we can still see their humanity.
AB Do you believe film can actually change things fundamentally or structurally?
JN Very much so, because film was always really my medium. The way other people read books or find something else that changes them, for me it was always film. I’d come out of films feeling like they’d given me energy for life. Sometimes it was a pure joy for life, sometimes even a longing for drama or sadness, simply because film can give everything a certain grandeur. Even the bleakest scene gains a kind of meaning through it. That’s always how I felt about it. No matter how dark the story was, I usually came out of films feeling more courageous about life. And then there’s the empathy film can create, making you understand people better and approach them differently because of that. So yes, I absolutely believe in that power. It’s a power of humanity.
AB You basically grew up in the acting world, so audiences have been able to follow that journey. Is there something people misunderstand about you today?
JN Well, of course they misunderstand me in some ways because they only see the films, or maybe just a small part of them. Most people haven’t seen all my work, just one film or a few scenes. And then you quickly form an image of someone. Or that image comes from interviews, video interviews, podcasts, whatever. Naturally a lot gets projected from that. And sure, you’re also always in a certain mode in those situations. I do try to be honest and speak from myself, but there are still many things I consciously keep away from the public. Those are probably things people can’t really guess about me.
AB Lastly, I have one slightly abstract question for you. If someone could only watch one of your films to best understand you both as an actor and as a person, which would it be?
JN Ah, that’s a really good but also difficult question. Naturally, there’s something of me in all my roles. As an actor, I’d maybe say Beat (2018) and Je suis Karl (2021) because they’re such opposite characters. In Beat there’s this joy of performance, this larger-than-life energy, throwing yourself completely into the role and the physicality of it. That definitely says something about me too. And Je suis Karl is a very dark character, but also the one with the strongest inner contradiction. Someone capable of warmth while also being completely cold, emotionally dead, even cruel. That extreme contradiction in people really interests me, both as an actor and probably as a person too. But that’s not how I would describe myself, of course.