The Idris Elba Effect

Last year should have been one of the most difficult of his life—after all, he sincerely thought he might die—yet the multitalented Englishman emerged from it as untouchable as ever

- By Tim Lewis. Photographs by Adama Jalloh

WHEN HE TESTED POSITIVE FOR COVID-19 IN MARCH 2020, Idris Elba was in New Mexico, just about to start shooting a western called The Harder They Fall with an all-killer cast that included Jonathan Majors, Regina King, and LaKeith Stanfield. Jay-Z was producing and lending a hand with the soundtrack; Netflix was footing the reported $90 million bill. Elba posted two live videos on social media from isolation in Albuquerque—one eight minutes long, the other almost eighteen—and they are notable for their lack of the composure and breeziness we have come to expect from him. He seemed, as the British say, to be bricking it. No offense to Tom Hanks, but it was when Covid-19 went after Elba—a man credible as both Nelson Mandela and the Norse god Heimdall, tipped at various points to be the first Black James Bond, an actor who seemed untouchable—that this shit got very real.

Elba, who is forty-nine, admits now that he sincerely believed his time might be up. But beyond the existential threat, he could see his world, which he had built from nothing, starting to unravel. The Harder They Fall shut down the day before it was due to begin shooting; no date was given for a return. “Having Covid at the time I got it, it was very, very early in its cycle,” says Elba. “So it was like, ‘Oh, shit, I’m going to die.’ I could have easily been a statistic: went to a hospital and my lungs failed and that’s the end of it. Very easily. I’ve had friends whose families have died”—Elba snaps his fingers—“like that.”