For years, Guilherme Hasselmann lived between two paths. At 18, he moved to the UK to study Business Management and build the kind of stability his family wanted for him, while quietly researching the industry, taking acting classes, filming self-tapes, and waking up at 6 a.m. on weekends to train at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. What appeared to be his “Plan A” — earning a degree, finding a corporate job, and building a secure life — was something he would eventually realize had been Plan B all along.
Now, after leaving his corporate career, moving to London, and committing full-time to acting and content creation, Hasselmann is entering the riskiest chapter of his journey yet. With his current visa running through the end of 2027, the Brazilian actor reflects on rejection, exhaustion, discipline, creating opportunities without industry connections, and his ambition to help open doors for other Brazilian performers internationally. “Every obstacle I’ve faced isn’t just my story. […] When I can make it, truly make it, that means something beyond me.”
Your journey begins with a very human choice: listening to your family’s fears, taking the safer path, and only later realizing that acting was still calling you. When did you understand that your “plan B” had taken the place of your real plan A?
I think I understood it the moment I became truly independent. Moving to the UK at 18 to study Business Management was when I managed to, for the first time, have full control over my own time, my own decisions, my own risks. And that’s when everything started to manifest. Growing up moving between countries, the passion was always there but it existed more as a burning feeling than actual actions. My parents wanted security for me, which I completely understand and appreciate — so talking openly about how I can make it as an actor was never a conversation that came up, and honestly, maybe that was for the best. Because not talking about it just made the fire grow and my desire to want to prove to them and myself that I can do it even more. So by the time I arrived in England my “Plan A” of studying business and getting a corporate job was still active. Afterall I was grateful to have had the chance to go to uni and get a degree in which all of this made me learn so much more about myself too. But with that I could finally start making moves on the real Plan A. So that’s when I started looking up classes, researching how the industry works, understanding the business (ironically) of it. And what looked like Plan A from the outside — finish the degree, get the corporate job, build a stable life — was actually my Plan B the entire time but was necessary to give me the means to continue having the time in this country to build that dream from a more accessible place.
You studied at the University of Essex, but acting became a parallel certainty that never went away. What was it like to live between a course that was not truly your dream and, at the same time, quietly building the career you actually wanted?
The honest answer is that it wasn’t so much about time — my schedule at Essex was flexible enough that I could, majority of the time, fit in auditions, self-tapes, and classes in parallel. What it actually cost me was energy. There’s a specific kind of drain that comes from trying to give 100% to two completely different worlds. I remember getting a last-minute audition for projects like Camp Rock, Carrie, or Star Wars, where for huge projects like this I need to properly prep. I would want to have time to be deep in the script, researching the project, analysing the character, the director’s past work, and more, but then I would have an 8,000 word essay in the weekend on Cooperative Marketing Strategies in Organisational structures for example. I can manage my time, sure. But having two things that weigh heavily and splitting that at the same time was the exhausting bit. There were moments like being called for an in-person audition for the lead role of House of David, and having a lecture at the same time for example. I would skip the class because the audition matters more — but then comes the weight of what you missed, or having to lie about being sick, and I genuinely hate lying. These were small things individually. But accumulated over three years, that constant switching between two lives that demanded completely different versions of you — that’s what wore me down sometimes.
Waking up at 6 a.m. every weekend to study at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art shows a remarkable level of discipline. What did that period teach you about commitment, vocation, and resilience?
Resilience and adaptability have always been part of who I am — moving between five countries before 18 will give you those qualities. But that RADA period taught me something more specific: what it actually costs to stay committed when everything around you is pulling in the opposite direction. While 99% of other students were still awake from a Friday night, or sleeping it off, I was on a train to London for a full day of intensive classes that nobody had demanded of me but myself. I felt like the odd one out amongst everyone I was around. Apart from when I got into that room at RADA. Where I felt so connected to my soul for doing what I love to do and when I had others to talk about it too that would understand! What that period really installed in me was a complete absence of hesitation when something asks something difficult of me logistically too. You want me on set at 4am and it’s a two-hour journey to get there? I don’t care, I will find a way to get there, and 10 minutes earlier too. Because I learned early that in this industry you never quite know what you might be giving up by saying no. So I put myself out there as much as I possibly can, because even when it doesn’t lead directly anywhere, just being in rooms with people who care about the same things makes everything more worthwhile, plus network is everything!
Coming from a family with no background in the creative industry, you had to figure out the business on your own, researching agencies, filming tapes, and emailing people yourself. What did that more solitary phase teach you about initiative and persistence?
Looking back I still don’t fully know how I did it. I just know that one thing led to another.
It started with watching interviews — actors, casting directors, industry people — and constantly listening to things or conversations I didn’t understand. What’s Actor Access? Who is XYZ person? How do casting directors see you? Apparently you need an agent. And how do you get an agent without credits? So it became about selling myself — making tapes at home, writing emails, showing up in people’s inboxes just introducing myself and asking for a chance. Some replied. Most didn’t. But I kept showing up. I’d find myself more curious and deep in IMDb Pro at midnight, tracking which casting directors worked on which kinds of projects, mapping out who made what, trying to reverse-engineer some actors path’s just so I can understand more how things might work… What surprised me then — and still does — is that there is no rulebook. No guaranteed way in. And as long as you’re respectful and authentic, nothing actually stops you from going after it. That fearlessness, combined with genuine hunger, is what eventually landed me representation with two very reputable agencies — one in the UK, one in the US. But here’s what I’ve learned since: the more I understood about the industry, about networking, about how things work professionally, the more careful I became. And careful started to look a lot like slow. Younger Gui was emailing everyone with nothing to lose and pure passion driving him — and it worked. The more professional I got, the more I second-guessed that instinct. It’s a realisation that I’m carrying into this next chapter. I have until the end of 2027 on my current visa to make something extraordinary happen — enough to qualify for a Global Talent Visa so I can continue building my dream from an accessible film industry location like London. That deadline, that very real pressure, has reignited exactly the fearlessness I had at the beginning. I just gotta continue showing up now, but harder.
Being represented first in the UK and then in the United States, and getting seen by major casting directors, seems to have taken your career to another level. What was it like to realize that your self-made effort was starting to open real doors?
I still have videos of myself just randomly dancing around my room after getting an audition email or when Brave Artist Management decided to sign me. That’s the most honest way I can describe what it felt like — pure, uncontrollable joy that made me feel like picking up the camera and recording it lol. But beyond the excitement, what it really gave me was something I hadn’t fully had before which was validation that I wasn’t just being delusional. I hadn’t studied acting at university. I had no industry connections, no family in the business, no conventional route in. All I had was faith in myself. And when people who do this professionally — people who see thousands of actors — started saying yes to me, something shifted. I hadn’t booked anything major yet. But getting the opportunity to audition in front of casting directors like Francine Maisler, Nina Gold, David Rapaport, Robert Sterne, Valentine Hendry, amongst others — that doesn’t happen by accident. That happens because somebody sees something. And recognising that, sitting with that, gave me a level of confidence that no rejection since has been able to fully take away.
In 2025, after graduating, needing to remain in the UK, and taking a full-time corporate job, acting slowly moved into the background without a conscious decision. When did you realize you were almost giving up without even noticing?
Being an Account Manager for the world’s largest beer company is no joke. It’s an incredible achievement and a privilege in that industry, especially for a 22 year old, but it is relentless. Between moving from Essex to Cambridge, adapting to a new city, a new job, a new life entirely, there was almost no energy left in me without burning out. And what acting needs more than anything is energy. Not just time — energy. The kind of creative aliveness that lets something real come through on camera. I noticed it in my tapes first. They were losing their spark. I started to feel like I was losing my talent, which was terrifying — but looking back, I wasn’t losing it. I was just completely empty by the time I sat down in front of a camera. You can’t perform from a place of depletion. It crept up slowly over that year. No single moment where I consciously decided to step back — it just happened through a thousand small prioritisations of everything else. That’s when I knew. I have one year left in the UK on my current visa without needing employer sponsorship. Four years already built here. And I am not leaving without having gone all in on building something real enough to qualify for a Global Talent Visa or really having my breakthrough.
Even without an agent, you kept working on projects such as BBC’s “Reputation”, campaigns, auditions, digital content, and even a short film you wrote and acted in yourself. What did that period prove to you about your ability to keep creating outside ideal circumstances?
This period proved something I keep coming back to: there is no rulebook. Yes, an agent opens doors — their reputation, their relationships, their access to projects you’d never find yourself. But their absence doesn’t close everything. I started self-submitting on Spotlight, emailing casting directors directly, and then did something I’d never thought to do before: I signed up with supporting artist agencies just to get myself on set. That’s how I ended up on the set of BBC’s Reputation, a drama still in production, directed by Mahalia Belo and starring Christina Hendricks and Naomi Harris. My role was small. But I treated it like it wasn’t — because I genuinely believe there are no small parts, only small actors. And apparently that showed. Naomi Harris, a Golden Globe nominee, mentioned that I was really good at what I was doing in the scenes and that she admired my dedication even though it was a very ‘small role’. Outside of set, I was writing and acting in my own short film, and starting a social media presence to help put myself out there more where I showcase my experiences and do other content to bring an audience to me.
Now, after resigning, moving to London, and choosing acting and content full-time, you say you are deliberately undoing at 22 the safe choice you made at 18. What does it mean to take that risk today, especially with your goal of bringing Brazilian actors to the biggest screens in the world?
Honestly? It’s terrifying. But it feels more right than anything I’ve done in a long time.
I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen. What I do know is that because of this choice, things are now more likely to happen. For the first time I will have 100% of my time — no split energy, no corporate deadlines running in the background, no switching between two lives. And if I managed to do everything I did while acting was running parallel to university and a full-time job, I genuinely cannot wait to see what becomes possible when it’s the only thing. But I’m also clear-eyed about the pressure. I have until the end of 2027 on my current visa. After that I need either a Global Talent Visa, get an employer to sponsor me, or to walk away from the UK — four years of groundwork, connections, and momentum built here. So I’m not romanticising this. I’m treating it like a ticking clock, because it is one. As for the Brazilian mission — it comes from something very simple. I don’t see many fully Brazilian actors breaking into the international market. Not many who came from Brazil with no connections, no acting degree, no passport that gives them infinite time to work in the US or the UK. Just faith and hunger and the willingness to figure it out. Every obstacle I’ve faced isn’t just my story. They’re the story of hundreds of Brazilian actors who want what I want and don’t know if it’s possible. When I can make it, truly make it, that means something beyond me.
Follow Guilherme Hasselmann on Instagram
