Kylr Coffman Lets His Punk Flag Fly in Nimrods
The actor behind the film’s green-haired agent of chaos on being a former emo kid and channeling the Green Day punk ethos.
by Prabhjot Bains
- Published on
“Welcome to Paradise!” bellows Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong, excited and trepidatious about the prospect of forging his own path, voice, and identity. It’s a timeless, iconic lyric from the band’s lauded oeuvre that reverberates through Lee Kirk’s Nimrods and its bumbling odyssey about three teenagers—Tommy (Mason Thames), Fred (Kylr Coffman), and Chad (Ryan Foust)—who trek to Los Angeles, mistakenly believing their band, Analog Dogs, is opening for Green Day on New Year’s Eve. Yet it’s this very mantra that also defines Kylr Coffman’s vivid screen presence, as he beats to his own rhythm as the green-haired Fred, Analog Dogs’ unpredictable, lively bassist, delivering a dynamic, sincere, and full-bodied turn that feels less like a performance than an extension of the punk ethos itself.
Billed as a “Green Day comedy,” Nimrods cleverly shies away from being a literal origin story of the band, instead channeling their zany spirit and early, rough-and-tumble days on the road through the fictional Analog Dogs. Their wild hijinks, idiotic misunderstandings, and clashing personalities conjure a road trip that both evokes and feels remarkably true to the formative moments that made Green Day what it is. But for Coffman, Nimrods also served as a distillation of his own lived experiences.
“I grew up in small-town Oklahoma as a former Emo kid… playing in garage punk bands,” Coffman says, “If you told me at 14, when I dyed my hair green, that I would be making a movie with Green Day, I would’ve been like ‘what?!” This culture of D.I.Y, Indie rock and the pop-punk ethos—it’s where I grew up. It gave me a home and a family when I felt I didn’t have one.”
Yet it was also important to Coffman that the film, and his performance in particular, not slip into pale imitation of Green Day or punk culture more broadly. “I never once read this as ‘oh, funny character roles’; I read them as real people I grew up with, and it was very important that it wasn’t a caricature—like Halloween punks with mohawks and chains or caricatures of the Green Day dudes either.” He adds, “I felt so lucky I grew up the way that I did because it allowed me an understanding of this world that I didn’t have to do too much research into.”
Coffman explains, “It was very important that I honoured this world. Growing up, I didn’t have money, but I was able to start a band, and it was mine. It felt like it was us versus the world and no matter what we could make some noise and speak some truth to power… I felt Ryan, Mason, and I, in this [fictional] band, Analog Dogs, did that in this movie.”
Though the prospect of channeling such energy and power through Fred was initially up in the air. “I wasn’t originally up for the role of Fred; I was up for Chad—little Chad-ski with the glasses—I grew up playing drums, not bass, when I was in bands, so I was up for the drummer character.” Coffman continues, “I remember being in the audition with Lee Kirk and Mason, and they said, ‘Hey, just read for Fred maybe,’ and we ended up having so much fun that they called me back and had me read for Chad just for formality”
A fortuitous moment that not only allowed Coffman to channel the character that meant the most to him, but to delve deeper into the subculture that shaped him. “I remember reading the script and thinking whoever gets the role of Fred is the luckiest actor,” says Coffman, now giddily leaning forward in his chair, “because what that character gets to do with Green Day on stage… I can’t believe somebody trusted me with that.” He adds, “It feels like fate every time I see it; it’s a testament to whatever’s meant for you will happen.” It’s a perspective that reverberates throughout Nimrods’ heartfelt, bumbling road journey, where youthful naivety, hard-won experience, and the belief that something bigger awaits all boisterously collide.
The approach to building and shaping Fred was informed as much by Coffman’s pop-punk influences as it was by an internalized process of drawing from the experiences that shaped him. “It was subconscious; I’m such a curious actor that I don’t have a conscious process,” He giddily explains. “I kind of follow my gut and what I need to do to build up this life…so for this role, when they dyed my hair green, I was off this planet, I was an agent of chaos.” He continues, “Everything I got in trouble for growing up was exactly what Green Day hired me to do in this movie—make a lot of noise, say dick jokes, take mushrooms, be a menace… so luckily the way I grew up gave me a lot of insight into this.”
Everything from key moments to small mannerisms was inspired by something Coffman experienced firsthand. He notes, “There’s a moment where I flip my bass up, and it says, ‘call me’ on the backside with green duct tape—that was something I learned from this local band when I was thirteen, fourteen… so it was nice to throw so much paint at the wall from things that inspired me as a kid.”
This internal, nostalgic process, alongside a rogue’s gallery of great bassists, allowed Coffman to breathe further life into Fred. “Mike Dirnt from Green Day, Fat Mike from NOFX, Cone from Sum41—my first concert ever—Sid Vicious…there’s so many amazing bassists that influenced me.” He continues, “When I met with Lee Kirk, he told me your character is the culmination of all of them when they were at their craziest, and it was never ‘you have to be Tré Cool, or Mike Dirnt, or Billie Joe,’ but inspiration was definitely drawn from all of them.”
Coffman drew on similar experiences and touchstones when building a raucous, heartfelt, and authentic ensemble with his co-stars. “Growing up in a band…I knew what the feeling was, being young, not having anything but this band, having this connection with friends that felt like its own thing.” He continues, “Despite all the odds, you can cure the world through music, and we captured that—Ryan, Mason, and I with Analog Dogs—it sounds like I’m being corny and cycling through media talking points, but I’m being so sincere because I’ve had that feeling in real life—and it’s there on screen.”
Coffman adds “Anytime we played music together for a scene, it was the three of us together and the rest of the world could just fuck off.”
Such intimate connections and dynamics made the Nimrods set one full of possibilities and improvisations— a quality Coffman took full advantage of. “The world that Lee Kirk and Green Day constructed was so rich, it made it easy to improv,” Coffman exclaims. “There was a lot of structure in place to facilitate the chaos… each take was so new, and once you’d understood your marks, it became a flow state.” He adds, “It was too much fun, so much so that I got into therapy as soon as the film wrapped because I needed help decompressing from Fred—my impulse control was out the window because my whole motto during this film was ‘ask for forgiveness, not for permission’”
A maxim that allowed Coffman, in his words, to “know exactly what Green Day fans want to see and what they would’ve done when they were young.” From unpredictable outbursts to impulsively hanging out of a window and flashing his nipple, Coffman notes “it was fun to be an agent of chaos, even if I probably got too lost in the sauce.”
It’s that very commitment to being in the moment that makes Nimrods an immersive, emotionally earnest experience that, while set in contemporary times, evokes an era when the people around us were all that mattered. “There is still a world outside of the internet out there,” Coffman notes. “I know it exists, I know other people feel…young people still crave experiences that don’t exist on a tiny screen.”
Such unfettered commitment to intimacy and authenticity is not only what allows Nimrods to be such a loveable throwback but a messy, chaotic snapshot of what makes Green Day, and punk rock itself, such a powerful catalyst for connection. “This movie has so much heart,” says Coffman, beaming. “That’s why I love punk rock, not because it’s played perfectly, but because it’s played passionately.”
Nimrods releases August 14th.
By Kenna Clifford
Inside the Western Canadian Music Alliance’s multi-day conference and the artists worth catching this year in Victoria.
By Glenn Alderson
It’s tough to make room for a music festival when the legendary Bay Area has so much else to experience.
By Prabhjot Bains
The prevailing cinematic currents, storylines, and must-watches of TIFF’s electric 51st edition.
By Aurora Zboch
Composer Jay McCarrol takes us inside the restless mind of a culinary icon before he became one.
By Melissa Brassard
The Vancouver International Film Festival returns with 162 features, a stacked VIFF Live program and plenty for music fans to get excited about.
By Rubaiya Sajjad
Cult bands, forgotten tapes, fake rappers and music legends collide in this year’s Music on Screen program.
By Glenn Alderson
The country music giant, master songwriter and patron saint of being exactly as much as you want to be has died at 80.
By Rudy The Raccoon
Questionable advice from the Great Outdoors Comedy Festival’s deeply unqualified raccoon mascot.
By Glenn Alderson
Fresh off its 30th anniversary, the pioneering coast to coast artist-development program brings one of its most eclectic classes yet to Toronto’s TD Music Hall.
By Glenn Alderson
The multidisciplinary artist returning to Up Here Festival conjures monsters, environmental mythology and a cautionary tale from the Northern Ontario landscape.
