Barry is a show that pulls you in. It’s about Barry Berkman, ex-Marine turned hitman, who accidentally wanders into acting while on a job in Los Angeles. A mix of dark comedy, crime and deep character moments, it keeps you guessing. Barry juggles his two worlds, wrestling with his morals and dreams of a new life. This leads to some crazy and funny moments. With sharp writing and amazing performances, Barry hits that sweet spot of humor and drama. It’s no wonder so many people love it.

Meet the characters from Barry

Barry Berkman

Barry is this weird, bruised quiet storm — a hitman who really, really wants to be an actor and also maybe a decent person (mostly on weekends). He’s intense and broken and frighteningly good at not blinking when things go sideways, but then he’ll melt into a pathetic, almost embarrassing attempt at normal life — like trying to cook pasta and starting to judge his own posture. There’s this constant tug-of-war between the guy who can kill with a calm face and the guy who practices monologues in the bathroom mirror until he cries, and both sides feel true. Also he sometimes smiles in public and it freaks people out, and he definitely keeps weird little rituals that make no sense to anyone but him.

Gene Cousineau

Gene is the grand, slightly greasy heart of the acting world — part guru, part con man, full of hammy advice you’ll both roll your eyes at and secretly follow. He can be unbearably self-centered (of course) but somehow he also has this strange protective streak, like he’s allergic to seeing potential wasted, which is adorably hypocritical. Loves the theater with a capital T, collects hats or masks or something dramatic, hums showtunes when he’s nervous, and will absolutely tell you the right thing at the wrong time. He claims to live by art and truth but his moral compass tends to wobble depending on who’s clapping, and yes he will sometimes weep in an elevator for reasons he can’t explain.

NoHo Hank

NoHo Hank is sunshine in a suit — infectiously cheerful, bewilderingly kind for a gangster, and somehow more terrifying for being so cuddly about it. He’s meticulously polite and weirdly philosophical, loves pastel ties and peonies, and will offer you tea before he orders a hit (who does that?). There’s this adorable cognitive dissonance where he’s brutally efficient at violence but also organizes team-building brunches and gives pep talks like a middle school soccer coach. He laughs at his own jokes, apologizes when you hurt his feelings, and keeps a pocket notebook of good names for businesses and maybe a list of people to forgive someday.

Sally Reed

Sally is messy genius energy — brilliant, ambitious, and emotionally naked in a way that’s thrilling and exasperating at once. She writes these searing monologues and then drinks too much wine and texts mistakes to everyone she knows, which is both a creative process and a public health hazard. She wants the truth and hates dishonesty (except when she’s the one lying, which is awkward and human), and she’s equal parts empathetic and fiercely self-preserving. Also she collects vintage stationery for reasons that feel very romantic and then never uses it, and sometimes she can’t tell if she’s performing or being herself — which is the point, kind of.

Fuches

Fuches is the small, shifty brain in the shadows — part consigliere, part dad who lost his manual on how to be a human being, and full of brittle, bitter loyalty. He’s manipulative in the way a survivalist is manipulative: always strategizing, always a little shamed, always ready to twist a truth into a weapon or a comfort depending on the night. He’ll preach tough love and then cry about a sandwich, and he’s both cowardly (runs when things get hot) and obsessively devoted to Barry in a way that’s unsettlingly tender. Also he keeps weird little tokens (I’m pretty sure there’s a tiny truck in his pocket) and will never admit he’s scared of cats even if it’s obvious.