The Conrad Fishers of the Stage: 8 Brooding Icons Who Steal Every Scene
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Hay Brunsdon
Conrad Fisher may be the brooding heartthrob of The Summer I Turned Pretty, but he’s far from the first. The stage has long been littered with moody, complex characters who make silence seem louder than words and keep us guessing.
Inspired by Conrad, we’ve rounded up the theatrical equivalents of the sulkers, the impossible-to-reads, the ones who gaze out at the ocean, carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, send mixed signals, flash stormy stares, bottle up their feelings, and vanish at exactly the wrong moment.
Jay Gatsby – The Great Gatsby
The West End’s original secretive sad boy in a tux. Gatsby doesn’t brood in silence so much as throw lavish parties while quietly dying inside. Beautiful house on the ocean (tick). Looks amazing in a tux (tick). Kinda quiet and melancholy at parties (tick). He’s Conrad if Conrad had a trust fund.
The Phantom – The Phantom of the Opera
If you think Conrad is moody, try living under an opera house in a mask writing angsty organ music. The Phantom is basically Conrad with better vocal range and slightly worse boundaries. Brooding? Absolutely. Problematic? Also yes. It’s a case of “bump into me at midnight on the beach” vs “let me abduct you and take you to my underground lake”? Let’s face it, we’d probably be keen for either. P.S. Both great oarsmen.
Alexander Hamilton – Hamilton
Neither are strangers to a classic SLT (Sibling Love Triangle). Less of a brooder, more of a bottle-it-up-and-self-destruct type. He doesn’t sulk on the fourth of July — he sulks in essays. And like Conrad, he burns bridges instead of asking for help. Tragic? Yes. Preventable? Also yes.
Javert – Les Misérables
The brooding is an industrial strength here. Javert doesn’t do feelings, he does law. His emotional repression is so intense it literally drives him off a bridge. If Conrad is the tide, Javert is the dam that eventually bursts.
Cal – Titanique
Moody, controlling, deeply insecure — but with better tailoring. He’s Conrad’s darker cousin: the one who bottles things up and then throws the bottle at someone. Same energy, less redeeming features.
Hades – Hadestown
If Conrad had a kingdom of the dead, he’d probably run it like Hades. He’s cold, he’s moody, and he’s very much into DIY (well more building walls than fixing up the summer house but you get the drift.) Hasn’t seen Persephone for ages? Tick. Would sulk silently for approx six months instead of texting her? Double tick. Brooding level: subterranean.
Nate – The Devil Wears Prada
He pouts instead of talking, sulks when Andy prioritises her job, and somehow convinces himself he’s the victim while the world spins around him. Emotional bottling? Check. Avoids confrontation? Double check. Basically, brooding energy with a side of guilt trips.
Uncle Scar – The Lion King
No stranger to sibling rivalry, that’s for sure! He paces cliffs, monologues to himself, and represses any family affection. Scar is basically Conrad with a mane and a flair for the dramatic exit. Bottles up resentment like it’s a fine wine. Mastermind of side-eye and brooding stares. Would rather plot from the shadows than have an honest conversation — mood swings included.
So the next time you’re swooning over Conrad Fisher, remember: the stage is full of men who would rather brood dramatically than actually say how they feel. Although, we would totally be on board should they decide to make The Summer I Turned Pretty a musical!