Scoot McNairy’s latest film, Blood for Dust, is a chilly slice of American desperation set in 1992 Montana—a landscape so bleak and frozen it might as well be another character. “It’s a mood,” McNairy says with a laugh. “Beautifully shot, yeah—but it’s really about a guy doing what he has to do to survive.”
That guy is Cliff, a traveling salesman sinking under the weight of bills and bad luck, who’s pulled into a dangerous scheme by an old colleague, played by Kit Harington. “He’s your everyman,” McNairy explains. “A guy backed into a corner, forced to take desperate measures to provide for his family. I’ve always been fascinated by that—what a person will do when they’ve run out of options.”
For a film drenched in cold air and bad choices, it’s striking how much stillness drives McNairy’s performance. Cliff barely moves, barely speaks, yet everything’s written on his face. “One of the greatest things about film is that you can just think it, and your eyes will tell you what’s going on,” he says. “That’s hard to lean into. You want to do something, but if you’re thinking it, the audience can see it. I’m trusting that more now than ever.”
The trust pays off—Cliff is both invisible and magnetic, a ghost wandering through a moral wasteland. “He’s out of his element but trying to keep his composure,” McNairy says. “His stillness is shock—he’s never seen this world before, never been around these kinds of people.”
One of those people is Ricky, the smooth-talking criminal played by Harington. “Kit was awesome,” McNairy grins. “I’d watched him for years, and seeing him bring this character to life—it just energized me. He’s lovely to work with, but his Ricky is loud, magnetic, dangerous. Cliff’s the opposite—small and quiet. That contrast really worked.”
The cast runs deep: Josh Lucas, Stephen Dorff, and Ethan Suplee all drop in for memorable turns. “It was humbling,” McNairy admits. “These are guys whose work I really respect. To have them come support a film I was leading—it meant a lot.”
Director Rod Blackhurst, known for the Amanda Knox documentary, brought a documentarian’s precision to the project. His cinematographer, Justin Derry, helped turn the Montana wilderness into something both stunning and suffocating. “They’ve all been working together for ten years,” McNairy says. “That’s why it feels so cohesive—they know each other’s rhythms.”
The move to Montana wasn’t the original plan. “We were supposed to shoot somewhere desert-like,” McNairy recalls. “Budget stuff shifted it to Montana, and I’m so glad it did. You can’t fake that cold. I love being outdoors. Even if it’s freezing, it helps—it gives you something real to react to.”
For McNairy, who grew up in Texas, that connection to the outdoors runs deep. “Anything outdoors, man. Even a porch,” he says. “We were always outside—fishing, exploring, mudding trucks. Even on Blood for Dust, I’d pull into the lot and do a couple donuts before work. Couldn’t help it.”
That love of the natural world even influences his career choices. “I did a show that was entirely on a soundstage,” he says. “Everyone knew if I had a break, I’d be on the other side of the door, outside. That job taught me—I need to be out there.”
Setting the film in 1992, he says, was a deliberate way to strip away the noise. “It got rid of cell phones, which was huge,” he laughs. “Everyone had to figure out why the character couldn’t just call. This story needed that isolation. And it made sense—what people could get away with back then, running drugs, running cash, it fit the time.”
The music, too, keeps the story grounded. “Rod and the composer, Nick, nailed it,” McNairy says. “They didn’t lean on big songs. They went for a score that just pulls you deeper into that world.”
It’s tempting to call Blood for Dust a neo-Fargo, but that’s selling it short. “It’s easy to make that comparison—cold weather, crime, murder—but it’s its own thing,” McNairy insists. “You can feel the cold, smell the barn dust. It’s got that grit.”
He’s not slowing down anytime soon. Next up is Speak No Evil, a remake of the Danish horror film, opposite James McAvoy. “My character’s mesmerized by his,” McNairy says. “He thinks, ‘If I could just be like this guy, everything would be fine.’ It’s that same fascination with control and collapse.”
Then there’s Nightbitch, the long-awaited Amy Adams film directed by Marielle Heller. “It’s so different from what people are expecting,” McNairy says. “Amy’s phenomenal—just phenomenal—and Marielle’s a force. I can’t wait for people to see it.”
He’s also rooting for a comeback—not his own, but independent cinema’s. “After the strikes, budgets went down, sure,” he says, “but I think we’re about to see another ’90s-style wave of great indie films—movies that only exist because someone decided to just go make them.”
McNairy pauses for a second, as if letting the thought settle. “I hope that’s what’s happening,” he says. “You won’t see the results for a year or two, but it’s out there. People are shooting now, not waiting for permission.”
And if all else fails, there’s always a truck, some mud, and a porch.
Watch the interview above and then check out the trailer below.
