From Bangkok to Broadway
Minutes later, she steps onto a Broadway stage, becoming the first Thai woman in history to lead a major production. The weight of it all is not lost on her.
'I genuinely can't believe it,' she says. 'Being able to represent my own country in this way has been nothing short of a dream come true.'
But Myra's story isn't just about being first. It's about opening the door wider, so more voices can walk through it.
From the Bangkok stage to Broadway's bright lights
Myra's path to the spotlight didn't begin in New York but in a shopping mall in Bangkok. At 13, she captivated the kingdom by winning the very first season of Thailand's Got Talent. Such a victory could have turned her into a local celebrity, but she chose not to settle.
While others might've chased red carpets, Myra headed to Berklee College of Music in Boston. She honed her skills, pushed herself and embraced the grind by touring internationally with Miss Saigon, voice acting as Moana in Thai and taking on every opportunity with curiosity.
'I used to be so shy and afraid to speak my mind,'
she admits.
'But every experience since that first stage has helped me grow not just as a performer, but as a person.'
No boxes, no boundaries
As a Southeast-Asian woman entering a historically white industry, Myra has had to navigate a stage that wasn't built with her in mind. She's felt the sting of typecasting. She's heard the subtle (and not-so-subtle) doubts. But she never let those moments define her.
'We're often seen as the 'diversity pick' but we're more than an ethnic quota,'
she says, calmly but firmly.
What she craves isn't tokenism. It's freedom to play roles that aren't bound by race or stereotype. People of Asian descent should be able to portray any role – not just the Asian-specific ones.'
Instead of shrinking herself to fit in, Myra's made it her mission to take up space without apology and to make sure others know they can too.
A career built on quiet discipline
To the audience, Broadway looks glamorous. But behind the velvet curtain is a world of physical endurance and mental strength. Eight shows a week. No excuses. No shortcuts.
'It's quite masochistic, I suppose,' she laughs, half-serious. 'But I actually thrive in that kind of pressure.'
Years of training have sharpened her ability to keep showing up even when she's exhausted, even when doubt creeps in. She relies on discipline, sure. But she also leans into ritual: gym, steam, prayer, sai sin. These small, sacred things tether her to something larger than the industry. They make every performance a full-circle moment.
Choosing joy over perfection
For all her achievements, Myra's greatest act of rebellion might be the simplest: learning to say no. 'I've turned down things that felt scary to walk away from,' she says. 'But doing that made room for the things I truly love.'
She's done chasing the 'next level.' Instead, she follows a sense of alignment and purpose. Lately, that pull is pointing her toward film.
'The process, the medium, everything about it – I just love it,'
she says with a quiet grin.
She's not in a rush. Her story's not a checklist. It's a slow, intentional unfolding.
Wherever she goes, she carries home with her
Myra doesn't hold tightly to places. She's lived in Bangkok, Boston, New York and yet, none of them are quite 'home' in the traditional sense.
Home is where my people are,' she says.
'My family. My friends. That's what grounds me.'
Still, she keeps her roots closely braided into her everyday life. The sai sin in her hair. The prayers whispered before curtain call. The values instilled in her from childhood: humility, gratitude, grace. Those things stay with her, wherever she lands.
At 27, Myra Molloy has already made history. But it's not the headlines that matter most to her but it's how she feels inside.
'For a long time, I tied my self-worth to my career,' she says. 'The moment I let that go, I became so much happier.'
Now, she defines success not by applause, but by joy. By doing the work she loves, with people she respects. By creating space for others and staying open to what's next.
One day, she hopes to write a musical with something about sisterhood, maybe inspired by her younger sister. But she's not in a rush. 'I want to stay open. Curious. Grateful. If you're not having fun, what's the point?'
And if she could go back and whisper something to that shy 13-year-old girl standing under the lights in Bangkok, it would be simple:
'Trust yourself. This is only the beginning.'
At a time when authentic representation on stage feels more important than ever, Myra isn't just breaking barriers but she's smashing them with grace and grit. As she carves out space for herself and others, she redefines what representation and artistry look like. If there's one thing she wants everyone to know, it's to trust your journey, because the possibilities? They're endless and Time Out can't wait to see what she does next.
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The Guardian
2 hours ago
- The Guardian
Drink it up! Daniel Day-Lewis films
The movie of the Broadway musical of Fellini's 8½ is one of only two duds on the Day-Lewis CV. Surrounded by dazzling female actors (Nicole Kidman, Penélope Cruz, Judi Dench, Sophia Loren), he ends up making heavy weather of Guido, the bewildered auteur caught at a creative impasse. A light touch eludes him: he's no Marcello Mastroianni, that's for sure. John Schlesinger's bisexual love-triangle drama gave Day-Lewis his film debut at the age of 14. He is briefly shown sauntering along a row of parked cars, scratching the paintwork with a broken bottle. The delinquent behaviour, the insouciant look, the south London setting: this could be a teenage snapshot of Johnny from My Beautiful Laundrette. Ten minutes or so of screen time doesn't give Day-Lewis much chance to make an impression as the debonair ex of young Nanou (Imogen Stubbs). He finds her in France, where she has fallen in with a would-be terrorist, but says 'au revoir' shortly after. 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Telegraph
2 hours ago
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Daily Mail
21 hours ago
- Daily Mail
James Corden reveals he is 'terrified' of starring in Broadway play ART and 'woke up sweating' worrying about his performance
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