Mrs. Playmen and the Man Behind the Camera

With a quiet intensity and a gaze that blends charm and introspection, Giuseppe Maggio has established himself as one of the most captivating acting talents of his generation in Italy. Born in Rome in 1992, Maggio combines a classical education in literature and philosophy with a deep passion for performance — a fusion that has shaped his distinct artistic identity. From his debut in Amore 14 to his breakout role as Fiore in Netflix’s Baby, Maggio has built a career defined by depth, curiosity, and an ongoing pursuit of authenticity. His work reflects a commitment to exploring the human condition through characters that balance vulnerability and ambition.

Now, the actor takes a new and transformative step with his latest role in Netflix’s new series Mrs. Playmen, premiering today. Set in 1970s Rome, the show tells the story of Adelina Tattilo — the visionary woman behind Italy’s first erotic magazine — and a generation that dared to defy social conventions. In the series, Maggio plays Luigi Poggi, a young and ambitious photographer whose artistic hunger mirrors the restless spirit of that era. Through this character, the actor once again demonstrates his ability to embody complexity — blending sensuality, rebellion, and sensitivity in equal measure — making Mrs. Playmen not only a story about liberation, but also a reflection of the creative spirit that continues to define Giuseppe Maggio’s career.

Starting from the beginning — what first inspired you to pursue acting, and how do you feel your background in literature and philosophy has shaped your artistic sensibility beyond formal training?

Studying literature and philosophy helped me develop a critical taste and a constant search for beauty. My work as an actor is built on that principle. For me, beauty is not purely aesthetic —beauty is feeling, freedom. It’s an inner vibration. And the camera reveals instantly if that vibration is real or if you’re just “showing.” So every role, for me, is the pursuit of a sincere frame — not perfect, but true.

Your first major role was in Amore 14 (2009). Looking back, how do you see that debut today, and what would you tell your younger self, the Giuseppe Maggio of that time?

I look at it with gratitude. When you’re that young, you don’t know yet the weight of a camera or the responsibility of a character. I’d tell my younger self: “don’t rush, don’t try to prove anything.”

Time is an ally. Craft needs time. And the innocence of that moment is part of who I am today.

Throughout your career, you’ve moved between film, television, and even writing — with your book Ricordami di te. How do you balance these different creative expressions, and what place does each one hold in your artistic identity?

I don’t separate mediums. I think the same need moves them all. Acting, cinema, writing —they’re just different tools to explore the same questions. Sometimes an idea needs a character, sometimes it needs silence on a page. Moving between formats protects me from being static. It forces me to reinvent my language every time.

In Netflix’s Baby, you portrayed Fiore — a dark and complex character that gave you international recognition. What did that experience teach you, and what was it like to work within a global platform such as Netflix?

Baby taught me about responsibility. When a series travels globally, you feel that echo —suddenly, choices you made on a set in Rome resonate in Brazil, in Poland, in Spain. Netflix opened my imagination to scale. And Fiore taught me something personal: never judge the darkness of a character. Try to understand the fracture that produces it.

Now you’re part of Mrs. Playmen, a series exploring Italy’s cultural revolution of the 1970s, where you play Luigi Poggi. What drew you most to this project, and to this character in particular?

What fascinated me about Mrs. Playmen is that it shows Italy exactly at the moment when the country starts to fracture — morally, socially, culturally. And Luigi Poggi is right inside that fracture. He’s a photographer genuinely free from prejudice: he looks at bodies and people with curiosity rather than judgement. He lives his sexuality in a fluid way, outside rigid definitions — and that makes him feel extremely contemporary. That freedom, that complexity, and that vulnerability inside him… that’s what made me want to play him.

The show deals with themes like female emancipation, breaking social taboos, and the tension between tradition and modernity in Italy. As a contemporary actor, how do you personally connect with these ideas, and how did you integrate them into your performance?

Emancipation is always uncomfortable, because it threatens the order we know. For Luigi, this discomfort is his entire arc: on the surface he wants control — inside he’s fascinated by the freedom he pretends to condemn. I tried to play him as a man afraid of his own interior truth.

What kind of preparation did you undertake to portray Luigi Poggi in that specific historical and social context — did you research the era, study photography, or immerse yourself in the 1970s creative scene of Rome?

I watched archives, interviews, political debates — not to imitate, but to get the rhythm of that time. And I worked a lot on body language: men in the 70s held their bodies differently, especially in relation to power and gaze. In parallel, I learned to shoot on analogue film and to develop photos in the darkroom. I needed to understand the physical gesture of photography at that time — the slowness, the precision, the patience of waiting for an image to reveal itself. That changed the way I inhabited Luigi’s gaze.

Looking ahead, after Mrs. Playmen, what kind of roles or projects would you like to explore next? Is there any particular challenge or story you still dream of taking on?

I’m drawn to characters who break — and then reinvent themselves. I’m interested in stories that question masculinity, not celebrate it as an armour. I’d love to explore more international projects. Ithink the most exciting challenge now is to portray men who are allowed to be complex,

contradictory, fragile — and still powerful in that fragility.