When actor Tom Bulpett talks about the future of performance, he isn’t looking backward with nostalgia—he’s looking straight into the unknown. As AI reshapes creative industries and traditional entry points disappear, Tom has become part of a generation redefining what it means to build a life in the arts. His journey—from neurodivergent kid using theatre as a communication tool to starring in Netflix’s Department Q—isn’t just about breaking in, but about staying true to the work when the landscape keeps shifting.
Candid, curious, and deeply reflective, Tom shares how technology is transforming opportunity, how live art can reclaim its place as a space for real connection, and why authenticity remains the one thing AI can’t replicate. His perspective bridges the practical and the philosophical: how to survive, create, and keep your humanity intact in an increasingly digital world.
This is just a preview of our conversation with Tom Bulpett. The full episode airs next week—don’t miss it.
How does Tom experience working across stage, screen, and voice — and does he have a favourite?
For Tom Bulpett, the best thing about his career is the variety. Stage, screen, and audio all feel related but distinct: theatre gives him the adrenaline of a live audience and the satisfaction of playing a full story each night; screen work feels “magical” in a different way, building performances shot by shot; voiceover asks him to communicate everything through sound and imagination. Rather than having one clear favourite, he moves in phases. Sometimes he craves being on stage; at other times, he loves being on a TV or film set or in a recording booth. His “favourite” tends to be whatever project he’s in at the time, and he feels lucky that each medium stretches different creative muscles.
What impact does he think AI is having on voiceover and entry-level creative work?
Tom Bulpett doesn’t think AI will erase voiceover completely, but he believes it has already eaten the bottom rung of the ladder. An audio engineer explained that, traditionally, voice artists built careers through a mix of corporate jobs, audiobooks, games, and more. AI has rapidly taken over the unglamorous corporate work — those safety videos and internal explainers that used to pay the bills and give newcomers credits. Without those stepping-stone jobs, it’s harder for new talent to gain experience and break in. He sees the same pattern in sectors like law and accountancy, where junior roles are vanishing. Tom worries that in 10–20 years, senior people will retire and discover there’s no trained mid-level workforce behind them. He suspects society will eventually find a balance, but expects a transition with unemployment and instability along the way.
Does AI also create space for live, communal experiences — including immersive theatre?
Tom Bulpett hopes that as more of life shifts online, people will seek out connection, and that the arts can meet that need. He points to the boom in tabletop-game cafés and the communities around “nerdy hobby” spaces, which he’s exploring through his production company Project Gamebox. That trend suggests people still want to sit in a room together and share experiences. He’s excited by immersive theatre, like The War of the Worlds Immersive Experience, where audiences are up close, moving through the story as characters. At the same time, he’s realistic about the pull of AI-generated “content” and short-form dopamine hits. His hope is that artists and producers curate against a world made only of content — using AI as a tool where it helps, but continuing to build live, flexible experiences that feel worth leaving the house for.
How does being a neurodivergent, autistic actor shape his life, his work, and his time on set?
Tom Bulpett was diagnosed as autistic around six or seven, and acting originally arrived as a form of therapy. As a child he would drift into fantasy worlds, and his parents noticed he communicated more easily and even made eye contact when “in character.” Theatre gave him rules, structure, and permission, which reduced the social overwhelm. For him autism is deeply sensory — that shiver down the spine when things are too much — and he’s learned strategies to manage it. Those inner worlds now help him go deep into characters, including William in Department Q, who has a traumatic brain injury. Tom did research, spoke with people with similar conditions, and used sign language and tics to show someone desperate to communicate without speech. The team embraced his ideas and shaped the role around them. On set, he mostly needs self-managed adjustments — headphones, music, short breaks — and is grateful when crews respect that.
What advice does Tom offer to people building a career in the arts, and what would he change about the industry?
Tom Bulpett is cautious about one-size-fits-all advice because the industry changes so quickly, but he has noticed patterns. The people who sustain careers do the “boring” work well and often: emails, follow-ups, writing and producing their own projects, managing spreadsheets and taxes, and showing up as organised, reliable collaborators. In a world where gatekeepers are weaker and you can build an audience online, those habits plus solid training can put you in front of broadcasters and funders in new ways. He warns against treating “becoming a TikTok star” as a plan; in his view, you become a robust artist first, then use digital tools to showcase work with substance. System-wide, he’d love to see early-career support similar to some European models, where artists get a funded runway based on their work and potential rather than their family’s wealth. That kind of backing, he believes, would let more people take creative risks and would repay society many times over.
Featured Image: (c) Netflix