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    Milo Ventimiglia on the ‘Honest Deception’ of ‘The Company You Keep’

    In his first regular TV role since the hit series “This is Us,” the actor plays a character who is himself a kind of actor: a charming con man.Milo Ventimiglia reached television stardom during the age of cable and streaming dominance. But his signature shows, including “Heroes,” “Gilmore Girls” and “This Is Us,” have all aired free of charge on network TV.And that’s just the way he likes it.“I’m a product of broadcast television,” Ventimiglia said in a recent video call. “I like the idea that anyone can turn their TV on and watch the show.”“People want to give exclusivity,” he added. “I prefer inclusivity.”Ventimiglia’s newest venture, “The Company You Keep,” based on the Korean series “My Fellow Citizens!,” follows suit, but with a twist on his usual handsome charmer persona. Premiering Sunday on ABC, the series tells the story of Charlie Nicoletti, the main talent in a family of Baltimore con artists that also includes his sister, Birdie (Sarah Wayne Callies); his dad, Leo (William Fichtner); and his mom, Fran (Polly Draper). It’s Ventimiglia’s first starring vehicle since the hugely popular “This is Us” ended its six-year run last year. (He is also an executive producer.)A smooth operator and skilled thief, Charlie finds himself facing changes bad and good as the series opens. The family, which owns a neighborhood bar as a front for their capers, has just been burned on a job, owing mostly to Charlie’s carelessness. The consequences are dire. Reeling from his mistake, Charlie falls into the arms and bed of Emma (Catherine Haena Kim). They’re a very secretive couple, especially with each other. She is a C.I.A. agent. He’s a con man.Unbeknown to them, their jobs are about to converge. It’s love, and lust, at first sight. Trust, however, is another matter.“It’s a different kind of communication when you are playing two people that are fundamentally in love, but there are a lot of obstacles to their being together,” he said. “I think it mostly comes down to communicating vulnerability.”Reeling from a mistake, Ventimiglia’s character, Charlie, falls into the arms and bed of Emma (Catherine Haena Kim), a C.I.A. agent.Eric McCandless/ABCVentimiglia, 45, was drawn to Charlie’s duality. “As a barkeep, he’s unremarkable, a simple neighborhood guy,” he said. “But as a con artist, he has to adapt and change shape and become somebody else believably, as a real human being, not a caricature.”Ventimiglia discussed the art of the con, moving on from “This Is Us” and why he looks to help military veterans however he can. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.What was the transition from “This Is Us” like?I brought over about 90 percent of the “This Is Us” crew. For me, it was always them that made the show. It wasn’t just the subject matter. It wasn’t just those beautiful Dan Fogelman scripts that he and the writers crafted. It was the different departments, everything from camera to grips, electric, art departments, transportation, craft services, the folks that were feeding us. There was a lot of magic in that show, and I loved bringing that team over. I miss Fogelman, and I miss aspects of production. But because of the crew, there was no real loss.That was such a beloved show. Why do you think it struck a nerve in so many viewers?I think it had a commonality. Viewers were able to see themselves inside of a lot of the characters. It wasn’t built for one lane. It didn’t fall under any particular genre. It was just a show about everyone.The original title was “36,” which was the birthday that Jack and the three kids were celebrating. But Dan Fogelman kept toying with this idea: This is us and us and us. And it just makes sense. That’s what the show was about. It was about all of us, every single one of us. That always felt like the appeal: Everybody could relate to the life that was lived in those characters.I Imagine people often identify you with Jack.I remember once I was getting off a plane and a guy stopped me and said, “Hey, you’re that guy from that show.” I said: “Yes, sir, I am. Nice to meet you.” And he goes, “Man, you’re my Tuesday night.” I thought, wow. Every Tuesday, this guy sits down and he hangs out with me and my co-stars on the show. There’s something really rewarding about that when you know an audience member is giving you time.How do you approach playing a con man? It’s interesting that the word “con” comes from “confidence,” which Charlie definitely has.To be an actor, you’ve got to be confident in what you do, but you can’t cross that line and be cocky because you get knocked right down. And you’ve got to be confident as a con man to get people to do what you want need.With the cons that we’ve been setting up, and the characters that Charlie plays within those cons, it’s exciting and it’s fun. It’s given me an opportunity to stretch, not just playing one part, but playing several parts through a season.“At 45 years old, I feel like I’m just getting started,” Ventimiglia said. “That’s a good feeling.”Carlos Jaramillo for The New York TimesCharlie is kind of an actor in that sense.Totally. Either that or I’m realizing that acting is absolutely a con. When I was a little younger, I used to joke and say, “I lie for a living.” Then it turned into, “I wear makeup and read lines for a living.” Now, in a way, I’m back to what feels like an honest deception.How do you think the secrecy of the characters translates to the performances?It’s funny, in real life, romantic partners tend to under-talk things until they realize they need therapy. On set, we’re over-talking things for absolute transparency and communication to find the best possible solution that works for [Kim’s] character, my character, and then ultimately the show.You have worked with and supported several veterans organizations, including the U.S.O., Team Rubicon and America’s Gold Star Families. What is the source of that passion?My dad was a Vietnam War veteran, so I think I always had this understanding of the community from that point of view, and from studying the war. But having never served in uniform, I asked myself how I could serve the community. The work is never done. But I think it’s a community to which we owe a lot of gratitude. I nearly went into the Navy when I was 18. I had this grand idea that I was going to be flying jets because I grew up on “Top Gun.” But then I took a different path.When did you know that you wanted to be an actor?I’d always put on plays and stuff when I was a little kid. And I remember when award shows still felt glamorous, and I would hear Whoopi Goldberg talk to the camera at the end of the Oscars, when she was hosting, saying, “Maybe one day you’ll be on this stage.” That inspired me. I’d see an actor putting on a character, and then I’d see him putting on a different character. You’d see Michael Keaton as Mr. Mom. Then you’d see Michael Keaton as Batman. You’re like, Oh, it’s Batman. But no, it’s Mr. Mom.It was all an understanding that these people are playing different roles, and that is the profession of acting. How do you do that? How do you make those roles so convincing that you get to do the next one? It’s weird. At 45 years old, I feel like I’m just getting started. That’s a good feeling. More

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    Best TV Episodes of 2022

    TV in the streaming era is an endless feast. This year, series like “Barry,” “Ms. Marvel,” “Pachinko,” “Station Eleven” and “This Fool” offered some of the best bites.TV can be a lot of different things these days. So can a TV episode: It can be a “chapter” of a visual novel, a revelatory stand-up special or a straight-up sitcom installment.You’ll find all of those and more in our choices of some of the best individual pieces we’ve sampled this year. Television in 2022 may have been all about the binge, but sometimes what you remember most about a feast is simply that one perfect bite. JAMES PONIEWOZIK‘Amber Brown’ (Apple TV+)Season 1, Episode 3: ‘No Place Like Two Homes’Aw man, I loved this light tween drama about a sixth grader whose parents are newly divorced. In the show’s third episode, Amber (Carsyn Rose) is trying to build up the courage to audition for the school play — she hopes to follow in her father’s drama-club footsteps so they can bond more now that he’s moved back to town. “Do you think he likes me?” she asks her best friend. Of course, her friend says. He’s your father; he loves you. “Well, I know he loves me,” Amber replies. “I just wonder if he likes me.” It’s this kind of brutal, beautiful poignancy that makes the show so special. (Streaming on Apple TV+.) MARGARET LYONS“710N,” from the third season of “Barry,” included some of the year’s most thrilling action sequences.HBO‘Barry’ (HBO)Season 3, Episode 6: ‘710N’More than one scene from this stunner — a high-speed motorcycle chase through a traffic jam, a high-firepower shootout at a car dealership — would have been the high point of any other series. But there was more to “710N” than simply showing off Bill Hader’s directing chops. The action sequences, simultaneously thrilling, slapstick and bathetic, served the larger purpose of “Barry,” to tell the story of an antihero without celebrating his antiheroism. (Streaming on HBO Max.) PONIEWOZIK‘Black Bird’ (Apple TV+)Season 1, Episode 4: ‘WhatsHerName’Dennis Lehane’s mini-series was a showcase for the fine and distinctive actor Paul Walter Hauser, who plays Larry Hall, a convicted kidnapper and suspected serial killer who is close to having his convictions overturned and walking free. It is nominally the story (based on an autobiographical novel) of another convict, played by Taron Egerton, who makes a deal to befriend Hall and compromise him. But Hauser’s soft, sibilant, weirdly sexy performance is all that matters. In the fourth episode, Hall is put in charge of cleaning up after a prison riot (itself a shocking yet poetic spasm of violence, as directed by Jim McKay), and Hauser conveys a deep, narcissistic satisfaction that puts cleanliness next to beastliness. (Streaming on Apple TV+) MIKE HALEShauna Higgins, left, and Dearbhaile McKinney in “Derry Girls.” An episode this season flashed back to when the parents on the show were rebellious teens.Netflix‘Derry Girls’ (Netflix)Season 3, Episode 5Lisa McGee’s rowdy Northern Irish comedy used a high school reunion to turn its clock back from the 1990s to the 1970s, visiting the adolescence of its Derry Mums. The half-hour brought in a new cast to play its adult characters as punk-era teens, but McGee established such a voice and sense of character over three short seasons that you could instantly recognize the elders in their younger versions (and see their daughters in them as well). The tart, heartfelt episode underscored how teenage rebellions, like some political ones, cut across generations. PONIEWOZIK‘Fleishman Is in Trouble’ (FX on Hulu)Season 1, Episode 7: ‘Me-Time’This limited series worked hard to re-create the pyrotechnics of Taffy Brodesser-Akner’s 2019 novel, from the upside-down shots that mimicked the topsy-turvy imagery of the book cover to a copious use of voice-over. (Brodesser-Akner, who created the series and wrote this episode, is a staff writer for The New York Times Magazine.) Here, it pulled off the novel’s signature reversal — telling the title character’s divorce story from the perspective of his wife — using the tools of the screen, in particular a wrenching performance by Claire Danes, an emotional volcano who has rarely erupted better. (Streaming on Hulu.) PONIEWOZIK‘Genndy Tartakovsky’s Primal’ (Adult Swim)Season 2, Episodes 7-9: ‘The Colossaeus’ (parts I, II and III)In its second season, “Primal” expanded its scope and time frame, dipping into 19th-century England for an episode and introducing various other clans to our cave man and dinosaur protagonists. But it was this three-part blood bath, culminating in a triumphant slave rebellion at sea, that exemplified the show’s tender nuance and also its unrelenting savagery. It was a reminder that while cartoon violence can be exhausting and meaningless in live-action shows, it can still be mesmerizing and meaningful when done where it belongs. “Primal” is almost entirely wordless, and its characters rarely rely on gesture; instead, their ideas are communicated through expression, breath and attention. And yet, few other shows are able to capture passion and pain with such precision, an entire life story told through one furrowed brow. (Streaming on HBO Max.) LYONSIman Vellani, right, with Aramis Knight, plays a teenager with superpowers in “Ms. Marvel.”Disney+‘Ms. Marvel’ (Disney+)Season 1, Episode 5: ‘Time and Again’This “Spider-Man”-like series about Kamala Khan (Iman Vellani), a Jersey City 16-year-old in a working-class immigrant family who discovers that she has superpowers, is the most charming and likable of the Marvel shows for Disney+ so far. The obligatory flashback episode revealing how Kamala came by her powers was set during the partition of India and Pakistan; the incorporation of that fraught history could easily have led to something labored and stiff, but in the hands of the writer Fatimah Asghar and the director Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy it was ingenious and surprisingly moving. (Streaming on Disney+) HALE‘Pachinko’ (Apple TV+)Season 1, Episode 7The penultimate episode of this Min Jin Lee novel adaptation, set in and around the 1923 Yokohama earthquake, is staggering in its scope and rendering of cataclysm. But it’s equally, quietly devastating in how its expands the depiction of a key character: Koh Hansu (Lee Minho), introduced in the series as a menacing, charismatic gangster. Laying out how he began as a young math tutor with hopes for a legitimate life, then fell onto his path through disaster and circumstance, “Chapter 7” connects him to the series’s other Korean exiles making hard choices in an unwelcoming Japan. (Streaming on Apple TV+.) PONIEWOZIK‘Rothaniel’ (HBO)A lot of “confessional” comedy has ground itself into a rut in recent years. But the comedian Jerrod Carmichael breathes new life into the paradigm with this lyrical and restrained special, in which he comes out as gay and explores his fraught relationship with his family. Carmichael weaves together sorrow and humor, insight and fear, love and disappointment, unraveling family secrets and allowing for messy and unresolved truths to all exist at once. (Streaming on HBO Max.) LYONSAn episode of “The Simpsons,” seemingly about Lisa and Bart in the scouts, gave way to a rapid-fire series of gags.Fox‘The Simpsons’ (Fox)Season 34, Episode 3: ‘Lisa the Boy Scout’A seemingly routine episode of “The Simpsons” is hijacked by hackers (wearing masks that are a frightening combination of Guy Fawkes and Homer Simpson) who demand a $20 million ransom; until it is paid, they will broadcast a stream of “Simpsons” outtakes “so ill-conceived, so idiotic that their exposure would destroy the value of the very I.P. itself.” Luckily, no one pays, and we get to see a lovingly assembled panoply of blackout sketches, written by Dan Greaney and directed by Timothy Bailey, ranging across 34 seasons of characters and animation styles. One highlight: a two-hander for the Sea Captain and Groundskeeper Willie whose dialogue consists entirely of “Yar” and “Aye.” (Streaming on Hulu.) HALE‘Slow Horses’ (Apple TV+)Season 1, Episode 3: ‘Bad Tradecraft’Based on Mick Herron’s Slough House novels, “Slow Horses” — set in a fictional MI5 office where out-of-favor agents pass their time doing busy work — is in one sense a sendup of John le Carré’s moody, cerebral tales of the postwar British intelligence services. But it’s also a completely credible spy thriller, with complicated, believable twists and well executed action. The first season’s third episode, written by Will Smith and directed by James Hawes, best encapsulated the show’s seesawing mix of sardonic humor, deft characterization and sometimes brutal suspense. (Streaming on Apple TV+.) HALE‘Station Eleven’ (HBO Max)Season 1, Episode 9: ‘Dr. Chaudhary’TV’s sweetest apocalypse story began just before the holidays last year, so it was the gift that kept on giving in early 2022. The penultimate episode, which found Jeevan Chaudhary (Himesh Patel) impersonating a doctor in a big-box-store-turned-birthing-center, was an inventive expression of the show’s oddly hopeful vision: the first sparks of humanity’s future being kindled amid the mundane ruins of its past. Like the traveling actors who make the backbone of this story, Jeevan puts on a performance that ends up becoming real and restorative. (Streaming on HBO Max.) PONIEWOZIKAn episode of “This Fool” used “Austin Powers” references to make a point about the importance of change.Hulu‘This Fool’ (Hulu)Season 1, Episode 5: ‘Sandy Says’The closing seconds of this episode-long homage to “Austin Powers” were perhaps the most satisfying payoff I saw this year. “Sandy Says” exemplifies the tricky tone “This Fool” is able to strike, combining the structure of traditional sitcoms with the style of auteur comedies, hitting a sweet spot of goofy and clever. Luis (Frankie Quinones), newly out of prison, is in annoying-eighth-grader mode with his constant “Austin Powers” references, and the episode is packed with shagadelic Easter eggs before Luis explains part of why the movie means so much to him. “I’m tired of wasting time living in the past,” he says. “Ideally, we’ll change. The world is ever-changing, homey. I gotta change with it. That’s what ‘Austin Powers’ is all about. You know, I used to think that movie was a comedy. But now I know, it’s a tragedy.” (Streaming on Hulu.) LYONS‘This Is Us’ (NBC)Season 6, Episode 4: ‘Don’t Let Me Keep You’“This Is Us” did a lot of traveling over its six-season run — through multiple family trees, across the divide of death, from the future to the deep past. But it was often at its best when focused on one story, here Jack’s (Milo Ventimiglia) trip to Ohio to attend his mother’s funeral and reckon with the legacy of his abusive father. It’s a showcase for Ventimiglia, who anchored a big-feeling show through his reserved portrayal of a father, husband and son driven to fix things. (Streaming on Hulu.) PONIEWOZIK More

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    How TV Shows Are Moving Past the Coronavirus Pandemic

    Remember the coronavirus pandemic? Some shows, faced with an unpredictable reality, prefer to put it safely in the past.“Sex and the City” always existed in a fantasy version of New York City, but in its HBO Max sequel, “And Just Like That,” there’s a different sort of illusion at work. In the opening scene, Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker), Charlotte (Kristin Davis) and Miranda (Cynthia Nixon) are waiting for a table at a very crowded, very indoor restaurant.“Remember when we legally had to stand six feet apart from one another?” Carrie quips.And just like that … Covid is over. At least it is in this show’s Manhattan, as well as in a cohort of other series that try, wishfully, to press the epidemiological fast-forward button.In the real world, the Omicron variant may be driving case counts into the stratosphere, but on TV, the pandemic is playing dead. In the Season 11 premiere of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Larry David’s HBO comedy of ill manners, chaos breaks out during a party (specifically, a premature funeral) at Albert Brooks’s house when Larry finds a closet stuffed with Purell, toilet paper and KN95 masks, exposing the “Lost in America” director as having been a “Covid hoarder.”You know — during the pandemic. The one that is definitely over.For nearly two years now, representing (or avoiding) Covid on TV has been a choice among bad options. Most shows ignored it altogether. A few, like “Social Distance” on Netflix, made the pandemic a direct subject, earnestly if clunkily.But maybe most awkward have been the series that acknowledged Covid existed but declared or implied it was over long before Covid decided it was over. NBC’s time-skipping “This Is Us” played the pandemic’s greatest hits throughout Season 5 — quarantine, video calls, pandemic unemployment — but this week’s Season 6 premiere suggests that the show has moved on. Season 2 of HBO Max’s “Love Life,” a story that spans several years, includes one pandemic episode, then begins the next in a version of 2021 where an audience is sitting unmasked in New York’s La MaMa theater.Some prime-time series about doctors, police and other emergency workers made fitful efforts to depict Covid, but their mask discipline sagged over time. “Grey’s Anatomy,” for instance, brought the pandemic full-on to Seattle Grace hospital in fall 2020. By fall 2021, it opened with the disclaimer that it now “portrays a fictional, post-pandemic world which represents our hopes for the future.”In the most recent season of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” Larry David, right, outed Albert Brooks as a “Covid hoarder.”John P. Johnson/HBOThese are all understandable choices, and maybe the only creatively practical ones. But they make for some potent cognitive dissonance. When I watched a “post-pandemic” “Grey’s” episode recently on Hulu, it opened with a pre-roll ad urging me to get a booster shot.For programs that simply try to show how people live daily life, the pandemic’s challenges are both subtler and more pervasive than those presented by past catastrophes. After 9/11, there was no need for homeland-security alerts to impinge on “Friends,” and the subsequent fixation on terrorism was even a natural driver of plot for action thrillers.The pandemic, on the other hand, quelled action. Covid touched every aspect of mundane life. Masks limited facial expression. Real-life distancing practices meant that the basic engine of sitcoms — people in a room or a bar or an office, talking — was now fraught with angst.Very occasionally, series have managed to capture this reality, as in the second and final season of HBO’s naturalistic comedy “Betty,” whose young characters skateboarded through pandemic-era New York in various states of matter-of-fact maskedness.The remake of “Scenes From a Marriage” split the difference oddly, opening with the fourth-wall-breaking image of the cast and crew working under Covid protocols, then letting its domestic dissolution play out sans masks. More often, TV has breezed past the situation, or wished it away. As long as a year ago, series were declaring early victory over Covid. NBC’s “Mr. Mayor,” which premiered last January, starred Ted Danson as the mayor of Los Angeles, a job in which managing public health is not a small detail. The pilot yada-yadas the pandemic away by having him mention that “Dolly Parton bought everyone the vaccine.” (A later episode does involve a lice outbreak.)To its credit, a series like “And Just Like That” is at least trying to acknowledge the pandemic, rather than shunt it offscreen. It just does so in the past tense.The Peloton on which Mr. Big (Chris Noth) takes his fateful last ride was a habit many other shut-ins of a certain income acquired during lockdown, which was also when he and Carrie began their evening ritual of listening to vinyl LPs. Anthony (Mario Cantone) runs a bakery, the offshoot of one more Covid-acquired sourdough hobby. And when Carrie calls Miranda out for her drinking in a recent episode, Miranda shoots back: “I am drinking too much. Yes. We all were in the pandemic, and I guess I just kept going.” Make mine a double.There’s a note of wistful, wishful thinking in all this retconning of reality — would that we could write a time jump into our own scripts! But there’s also the simple matter of timing. TV generally works on a faster schedule than movies or books, but it’s not instantaneous (and shooting during Covid tends to take longer).So TV creators — suddenly conscripted, like educators and restaurant managers, into making public-health decisions they never expected to be part of the job description — have been left to guess at Covid’s future like a hapless pop culture C.D.C.In some cases, what’s onscreen now is a time capsule from the heady early days of vaccine optimism. The post-Covid “Curb” season wrapped production a few mutations ago, in May, when the virus seemed to be fizzling into oblivion. (The executive producer Jeff Schaffer told The Hollywood Reporter that the season takes place “Right now, if everyone had the brains to get vaccinated.”) A “comfy chic” challenge in the newest “Project Runway” season, produced in spring, had contestants adapt “those awful couch clothes that we’ve all been living in for over a year,” presumably for a post-Covid future.This week’s season premiere of “This Is Us” suggests that the show has moved past the pandemic.Ron Batzdorff/NBC“South Park,” which released a two-movie “Post Covid” special on Paramount+ in November and December, has one of the quickest turnaround times in TV — the first installment was released just as Omicron was discovered and the second worked in a reference to the variant. But it put the “post” in its “Post Covid” premise by using time travel and alternate reality to depict a future in which humanity had — well, almost — beaten the virus. (Maybe the most far-fetched twist is its resolution, in which, with the series’s frustrating both-sidesing, vaxxers and antivaxxers shower each other with apologies for getting so worked up during the plague years.)Still, it’s striking that TV, whose strength is the ability to stay on top of the moment, has generally worked so hard to avoid the biggest thing to happen to its collective audience in the past two years. You could easily imagine face masks becoming a staple, even a cliché, of period dramas some day — a visual shorthand for “the turbulent days of 2020” the way a shot of the corner of Haight and Ashbury says “the ’60s” — even as future rerun-watchers puzzle at why they’re nowhere to be found in the TV of our own time.Maybe it’s only fitting that TV producers should muddle through this garbage storm like everyone else, unsure what the rules will be by airtime, wishing they knew where the pandemic fell on the spectrum between temporary emergency and permanent way of life. And I’m sure plenty of viewers would rather be reminded of anything else.But you’re reminded anyway, if only by the twinge of uncanniness from seeing TV characters act as if the pandemic were history, even as you’re still trying to get your hands on rapid antigen tests. I bet Albert Brooks has a ton of them. More

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    Ron Cephas Jones Has Something to Prove Again

    The Emmy-winning “This Is Us” actor received a double-lung transplant after a secret battle with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Now he’s back onstage in “Clyde’s” on Broadway.In the spring of 2020, a recurring nightmare began tormenting the actor Ron Cephas Jones. A theater veteran known for his work on the NBC drama “This Is Us,” Jones is 64 and wiry, with short waves of black hair and an almond-shaped face. In the dream, he is delivering a monologue onstage — darkened room, white backlights — when he notices something amiss. Everyone in the audience is looking elsewhere, in seemingly every direction but his. Jones waves and shouts, trying to draw the crowd’s attention. But no matter how desperately he screams, no one registers his presence. He is there but not there, a ghost among the living.In the new Broadway play “Clyde’s,” where Jones plays a kind of spiritual leader to a beleaguered crew of recently incarcerated sandwich cooks, he is the show’s transfixing center of gravity — the very opposite of ghostly incorporeality. But when the nightmares began, Jones really was in mortal peril.In May of last year, he received a double-lung transplant after years of suffering in secret from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Jones spent nearly two months at the Ronald Reagan U.C.L.A. Medical Center in Los Angeles on and off a ventilator, learning to breathe and then eat and then walk again. The hope of one day returning to the theater was the fire that fueled his recovery.Uzo Aduba as Clyde and Jones as Montrellous in Lynn Nottage’s new comedy, “Clyde’s,” in which ex-convicts working at a truck-stop sandwich shop dream of remaking their lives.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“My whole life has been the stage,” Jones said recently, over lunch at a restaurant a few blocks from the theater where “Clyde’s” is running. “The idea of not performing again seemed worse to me than death.”Jones is the kind of actor who works like chipotle mayo — you don’t always think to look for him, but you’re happy when he shows up. About six years ago, after three decades of working on and off Broadway in New York, he began quietly lending credence to a crop of ambitious streaming-era dramas. He added a touch of warmth to Sam Esmail’s “Mr. Robot,” a note of vulnerability to Marvel’s “Luke Cage,” a foreboding undercurrent to Stephen King’s “Lisey’s Story.” But his biggest breakthrough — and two Emmy Awards, for outstanding guest actor — came from the ratings smash “This Is Us,” where Jones has played William, the biological father of Sterling K. Brown’s character, Randall, since 2016.On a series with no shortage of weepy story lines, William is a figure of singular pathos. The character, who is Black, bisexual, a former drug addict, an absentee father and has terminal cancer, would in lesser hands strain the limits of good taste. But Jones’s soulful performance — the weather-beaten brow, the voice like brushed wool — confers a lived-in texture and depth.The same year that Jones was cast as William, he complained to his doctor about difficulty breathing. An X-ray confirmed advanced emphysema, a pulmonary condition in which damage to the lungs deprives the blood of oxygen. Jones, who had been a two-packs-a-day smoker for most of his life, was told the disease was progressive — left untreated, his lungs would grow weaker and eventually collapse. He was advised to consider a transplant. But he shut down the idea after learning the risks involved. Even if his body accepted the new lungs, there was a 31 percent chance he would be permanently bound to an oxygen tank.From left, Jones, Bob Dishy, Tonya Pinkins and Zach Grenier in “Storefront Church,” about Bronx residents whose lives become tangled in unexpected ways, at the Atlantic Theater Company in 2012.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times“I was in total denial,” Jones said. “I told myself that it would pass, or that I was just getting older. I was afraid and didn’t want to change what I wasn’t ready to change.”For a year after his diagnosis, Jones continued smoking up to 12 cigarettes a day. He finally changed course in 2017, after an incident on the set of “This Is Us.” While filming a long outdoor scene with Susan Kelechi Watson, who plays William’s daughter-in-law, Jones became increasingly short of breath. He sensed his heart pounding and broke into a sweat. He felt as if he were underwater. After someone called an ambulance, an emergency responder resuscitated him using an oxygen tank. Denial was no longer an option.“You can see in his eyes that he made the right decision,” said the actress Jasmine Cephas Jones, Jones’s daughter and an original cast member of “Hamilton.” “I feel like I have my dad back.”Many of Jones’s characters, including Montrellous, the ex-convict he portrays in “Clyde’s,” are pacific, hard-luck men in pursuit of redemption. The playwright Lynn Nottage, who met Jones in the 2000s when both were members of the Labyrinth Theater Company, said she wrote Montrellous with Jones in mind.“He moves through the world like a cool jazz man, but is also generous and a nurturer,” Nottage said. “The same qualities that he brings to his acting are the qualities that he embodies in real life.”Jones at the Helen Hayes Theater, where “Clyde’s” is running through Jan. 16.Nina Westervelt for The New York TimesJones was first drawn to performance as a young man during the Black Arts Movement in the 1970s. Born and raised in Paterson, N.J., he took Route 4 to Harlem on weekends to see jazz at St. Nick’s Pub, or plays at the National Black Theater or Avery Fisher Hall (now David Geffen Hall) at Lincoln Center. After graduating with a theater degree from Ramapo College, in 1978, Jones immersed himself in the art scene in New York but was derailed when he developed a crippling heroin addiction. Encouraged by his mother, he moved to Los Angeles for a fresh start and spent four years working as a bus driver.Eventually, Jones turned to gambling and relapsed. He said he was arrested with 10 small bags of heroin and narrowly escaped a five-year prison sentence. A judge sent him back East — to a rehabilitation center in Albany, N.Y. — but the program didn’t take. Jones relapsed a second and third time. His mother, who had taken him in after Albany, kicked him out of the house and stopped answering his phone calls.“It was the tough love thing,” Jones said. “But it felt like everything I had loved was gone.”Jones hit rock bottom and said that for a while he slept on a bench in Eastside Park in Paterson. He was saved by an uncle who invited him to stay at his apartment in Harlem. It was there, in 1986, that he got clean for the last time.Jones and David Zayas in “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train.” Stephen Adly Guirgis’s portrait of lives behind bars debuted at the East 13th Street Theater in 2000.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIn 1990, he starred in his first play, “Don’t Explain” by Samuel B. Harps, at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe on the Lower East Side. By then he was a father — Jasmine was born in 1989 — and went on to a wide-ranging stage career, starring in Stephen Adly Guirgis’s “Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train,” John Patrick Shanley’s “Storefront Church” and “Richard III.”“Clyde’s” is his first appearance on Broadway in seven years. After his lung transplant, Jones was determined to prove that he could still perform at the highest level, and for the standard eight shows per week. In his review of the play for The Times, Jesse Green wrote that Jones perfectly embodies his character, balancing a “Zen imperturbability with subtle dashes of pain and sacrifice.”“It was kind of miraculous to see him up there so full-bodied,” said Nottage, who, though aware of Jones’s operation, said it was never discussed during rehearsals this summer. “You would never know that he had any kind of struggle.”“Clyde’s” opens with a monologue, in which Montrellous attempts to persuade Clyde, played by Uzo Aduba, to change the menu at her restaurant. On opening night late last month, when the curtain lifted and revealed a packed crowd, including many of Jones’s friends and family, he said he was so overcome with emotion that he nearly screamed his first line.“I was so eager that all of the air from my diaphragm just came rushing out at once,” he said. “I wanted to make sure that I could be heard.” More