Toronto-based actor Ryan Allen has built a reputation for versatility and truth—equally at home in film, television, and theatre, and just as convincing in sharp comedy as he is in grounded drama. This September, he returned to the Toronto International Film Festival with Being Heumann, directed by Academy Award–winning filmmaker Sian Heder and selected to open the 2026 festival. Based on the true story of disability rights activist Judy Heumann and the landmark 1977 San Francisco sit-in that sparked a national movement, the film sees Allen portray Willy Dicks, a real-life figure who helped transport activists from San Francisco to Washington, D.C., and supported them once they arrived. We caught up with Allen to talk about his journey as an actor—and the responsibility of stepping into a story with this much weight and purpose.
Hi Ryan, thanks for taking the time to speak with Occhi Magazine. When did film and television stop being something you watched and start feeling like something you could actually belong to—and what was the first “yes” that made it real?
I was very fortunate that my very first movie was Get Rich or Die Trying, where I was directed by multi-time Academy Award nominee Jim Sheridan and Academy Award winner Viola Davis was my mother. So from day one it very much felt like a community I belonged to.
Early in your career, what did you think the industry rewarded, and what did you later learn it actually rewards (for better or worse)?
My initial belief was that the industry rewarded beautiful people. It just felt like the nicest-looking people worked the most. Nowadays I’d say it’s the people who are beautiful on the inside who are working a lot. Being kind, thoughtful, and respectful on set is what makes people want to continue to share space with you.
You’re known for versatility across comedy, drama, film, TV, and stage. Was that range a deliberate strategy, or did it come from necessity—saying yes, staying working, staying visible?
It comes from endless curiosity. I was curious about opera singing, so I trained to become a professional opera singer. I was curious about Shakespeare, so I trained in classical to perform Shakespeare professionally. I was curious about martial arts, so I trained in Muay Thai for 8 years to do my own stunts on set. They say curiosity killed the cat, but for me, curiosity gave me 9 lives.
Who were the mentors who shaped how you move through this business, and what’s one lesson they gave you that still guides you when you’re choosing roles now?
I was on a series called Rogue, with one of my favourite actors, Martin Donovan, and he said to me over lunch, “Take the work seriously, but not yourself, and be kind to people”. That simple advice has stuck with me and worked thus far!
A lot of actors talk about craft, but fewer talk about survival. What were your earliest “industry lessons” that had nothing to do with acting, such as set politics, audition psychology, rejection, money, or identity?
Save your money!! Nothing is guaranteed. I remember starting jobs so broke that I’d have to take extra food from craft so that I could eat on my day off.
In Being Heumann, you portray Willy Dicks—a real person whose allyship had a tangible impact on a historic movement. What responsibility did you feel stepping into someone’s real-life actions, not just a fictional arc?
I didn’t really feel any extra responsibility; I’m always going to do my best, otherwise what’s the point? I did feel extra gratitude because it’s such an honour to play a real person who had such a positive impact.
Willy’s contribution is woven into select moments, but those moments are crucial to the activists’ journey. How did you make him feel fully human and specific without overstating his presence in a story led by disabled activists?
The process was simple. Learn as much as I could about the man and what he did, then listen to my scene partners when Sian Heder yelled action, and react honestly until Sian yelled cut.
What did you learn about what real allyship looks like from playing Willy—especially the unglamorous parts: logistics, consistency, showing up, taking direction?
In the film, we see a lot of Willy physically having to help people in wheelchairs get in and out of their chairs. It was physically very demanding and required trust and communication. Two things that can usually help any situation.
What did the project teach you about Judy Heumann and the 1977 Section 504 sit-in that you didn’t know before – did any part of that history change how you see activism today?
I didn’t realize just how long the sit-in went on, and learning that really put the level of perseverance and determination into perspective for me. These were people who were fighting for basic rights and accessibility, and they had no guarantee that anything was going to change, but they stayed committed to it. I think that’s what really stuck with me. It made me think differently about activism today and how real change often doesn’t happen quickly. It takes people continuing to show up, speak up and push forward, even when they don’t immediately see the results of what they’re fighting for.
Working with Sian Heder, what was the tone on set when handling material with this kind of historical and emotional weight? Did she direct you differently because the story carries real-world stakes?
I loved working with Sian. She directs with a warmth and kindness without sacrificing specificity. With material that carries this much historical and emotional weight, that created an environment where you felt supported, but you also understood the responsibility of what we were portraying.
As an actor, how do you balance emotional truth with ethical truth when the story involves disability rights history—what questions did you ask yourself to make sure you weren’t “performing importance” instead of serving the reality?
As an actor, I try not to think much about importance. I just try to be as truthful in the moment as possible and trust that my director and editor can use that to piece together something “important”.
The film is was a highlight of TIFF, and you’re doing it in your home country. What does that moment represent for you personally?
It’s great! I love my home and my family, so getting to have this moment here in Toronto makes it even more special. Because it’s my hometown, I get to invite some of my family to experience it with me, which means a lot. And I also get to play tour guide for some of my colleagues who are coming in from out of town, which is always fun. There’s something really special about celebrating a project like this at TIFF and getting to do it at home, surrounded by people I love.
Where can our readers find out more about you?
You can follow me on Instagram at @mr.ryan.allen
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