Meet the proud parents of ‘M3GAN,' Adrien Morot and Kathy Tse, who welcome us to their design shop

Los Angeles Times

14-05-2025

Just north of Magic Mountain's roller coasters, hidden within the vast, anonymous industrial parks of Valencia, lies the secret lab where the murderous doll M3GAN was born.
'Born' is putting it a touch dramatically — but only a touch. Though she's taken on a prankish life of her own since the 2022 runaway horror hit made her dance moves iconic, M3GAN is a product of several teams, primarily the animatronic makeup and design company Morot FX Studio, but also a human actor, 15-year-old Amie Donald, several puppeteers and a swarm of technicians performing in concert like a group of modern dancers.
And while the nondescript row of beige offices I pull up to doesn't scream 'secret lab,' that's not far off either. Just last night, Christian Bale was here, testing out some face-changing prosthetics for his forthcoming role in 'Madden,' about the Oakland Raiders football legend. Nicolas Cage dropped in a day earlier. Both will be returning in the days ahead.
'You want a popcorn?' asks Adrien Morot, 54, the shop's boyish proprietor in a baseball cap. It's a Saturday in April — the only available time he has in a typically job-crammed week to show us some of the new work he's done on 'M3GAN 2.0,' due in theaters June 27.
There's a noticeable pride Morot takes in touring me around his geek's paradise: a two-level office crammed with shelves of scowling latex heads, furry creatures and a pair of giant gators overlooking it all. You see posters for horror movies like Eli Roth's 'Thanksgiving' as well as more elegant, perhaps unlikely gigs: Darren Aronofsky's 'mother!' and the Bale-starring 'Vice,' for which the actor was transformed into Dick Cheney. (Morot's task: turning Steve Carell into Donald Rumsfeld.)
Scattered pizza boxes left on workbenches lend to the air of dorm-room fantasy but Morot is quick to open one up: no leftover slices, only delicate pieces of fabricated skin applications. Pizza boxes are perfect for those.
'I have to admit that, especially for somebody like me that grew up just doing this — this was my hobby, really — there's never a day where you don't come into the shop feeling: This is so cool,' Morot says.
Once upon a time, he was a kid in Montreal, horror-obsessed, making his own creations. 'F/X,' the deliriously fun 1986 thriller about a special-effects man on the run, is one he watched as a 'dumb 16-year-old, very cocky, like a teenager thinking that I was better than everything,' but also a movie he can recount beat for beat.
Also picking her way through the shop is Kathy Tse, Morot's longtime creative partner and wife. Soft-spoken, with a mind for specifics that complements and protects Morot, her presence immediately makes the space feel more like a serious studio shared by two contemporary artists. She explains that Valencia was 'family-friendly' and a better real-estate value.
'Because we have good chemistry — we have trust — we work well together,' Tse, 44, says. 'That is so important when you are under duress, under stress. And because of that, they always end up calling us back.'
Hollywood has called back, noticing them in a big way. The Oscar they won for the fleshy organic work they did with Brendan Fraser on 'The Whale' is nowhere to be seen. It's in a closet somewhere, Morot admits, sheepishly.
'Winning an Oscar has never been in the list of accomplishments that I was seeking, truly ever,' he says. 'My only goal that I was really dying for was to have one of our creations on the cover of Fangoria magazine. That's the only thing.' (They line the shop's business office.)
Tse steers us around to the notion of a certain intimacy they like to work at, a realist aesthetic that might be called the Morot house style.
'What was great about the Oscar that year was how Brendan and Adrien really bonded,' she adds. 'They were like brothers, with the constant support and dirty jokes and texts going back and forth. I think that was such a nice, beautiful relationship. To this day, they still text.'
'That's always how we saw our work,' Morot says. 'We're there to help the actor if we can with what we produce — to help them find the character.'
And with that, the pair take me up to the second level of their shop, followed by their border terrier, Jasper, and there she is, the girl of the hour.
'M3GAN 2.0' is exactly the sequel fans will be wanting. It embraces the essential ridiculousness of the concept — a vicious AI in the robotic body of a pissed-off tween — as well as the folly of tech bros who would move fast and break things before heeding some fairly obvious warnings.
It's more of a comedy. The laughs are constant (yes, M3GAN sings another of her awkward songs). Also, reading the room, the filmmakers realize that we've come to love her and want to root for her. To that end, she's been turned into something of a force for good, drafted into doing battle against a military-grade AI called Amelia, also built into the body of a young woman.
For the sake of our visit, Morot and Tse have set up two full-size M3GANs, one from the first movie, another from the upcoming film, the latter more muscular and a good several inches taller. That change was motivated by the realities of their human actor.
'Amie, she keeps growing so quickly and within a year grew over two inches,' Tse says. 'The first one she was yay high and then six months later, she grew. We had to readjust all of our dolls.'
Says Morot, 'She is such a joy to work with — a real trouper. And I think that everybody was enamored with her and it just made sense to bring her back in the second movie. So I think that the script was altered or adapted to make sure that she would fit within the story.'
When M3GAN is running or doing one of her viral swirly-arm dances, it's performed by Donald, a young actor from New Zealand, wearing a mask designed by Team Morot. He shows me the mold. 'That's her face on the inside,' he says. 'That's a negative impression of her face. It's quite heavy, actually.'
But when it's a medium shot or close-up, you're seeing an animatronic puppet operated by several people. Usually Morot is working the mechanisms in the eyes and lubricating them — he can speak excitedly at length about 'eyeball pivot' — while Tse is manipulating arms and doing a fair amount of hand-acting.
'In my naiveté, I never quite understood just how much this was basically an elevated Muppet movie,' says 'M3GAN' director Gerard Johnstone, calling from the editing suite at Blumhouse's post-production facility in Koreatown, where he's finalizing the sequel's cut. He remembers learning about Morot and Tse's skills in 2019 before the pandemic hit and being convinced by their commitment to lifelike illusion.
'I found that hugely inspiring,' the director says. 'I thought, Why are we making something that looks like a toy when these guys can make things that look human? Wouldn't that be really fun if we went further into the uncanny valley than we've ever gone before? And Adrien and Kathy were the perfect people to partner up with on that.'
Tse's M3GAN designs, these days rendered by a phalanx of digital printers (a single head can take up to 50 hours), became proof of concept and helped green-light the first film, not an everyday occurrence.
In the room with us in Valencia, the dolls eyes' are hypnotic, carrying a trace of malevolence. 'There's a presence,' Tse offers.
Watching them finesse each strand of M3GAN's hair, every neck tilt and eye motion for our photo shoot, Morot and Tse look like nothing more than devoted stage parents, grooming a promising theater kid. It's a natural thought that begs an obvious question.
'Oh, for sure,' Tse agrees, owning up to parental affection for her creations. 'Look how we care about our dolls. There's so much pride and you're protective of making sure that they look good, that they're well cared for.'
The pair have a 20-year relationship, tying the knot around the time they were working on the first 'M3GAN,' a watershed moment for them.
'I was a young flower at the time when we first met,' Tse says without a trace of sarcasm. 'He was doing a film and I was just graduating from university. I was working in banking and we met that way. So he was already working in film and he brought me into it, actually.'
'I could have went into banking,' Morot cracks.
In each other, they found kindred spirits of perfectionism, going on to corner the Montreal makeup market, which was then booming with Hollywood shoots. Years of work came without days off or vacations.
But they knew a relocation to Los Angeles was inevitable. In the 1990s, Morot had given the town a shot, apprenticing with other designers, learning his craft and drinking in the city until he needed to move back to Canada for family reasons.
'I was really bummed when I had to move back,' he says. 'For me, L.A. always felt like home. When I landed here at 21, I was like, oh, my God, everything is here.'
It's not lost on them that their specialty has come to represent something increasingly rare: an actual craft with an emphasis on real-world tactility in a moment when digital spurts of blood are becoming the norm. Prosthetic makeup effects have become a last stand, a bastion of the old ways.
'This is a massive extinction of the entire movie industry,' Morot says, alarmed. 'We're losing the human process behind it. That's going to be a tragedy because we're going to lose the communal experience of movies. We're already there with all the streaming platforms and YouTube, where people are all on their own, silo-watching. There's no longer the watercooler discussion about what show is in right now because everybody's watching their own thing.'
Tse strikes a more pragmatic tone. 'I think you have to in a way embrace it,' she says of AI. 'Some parts of the industry will unfortunately lose work, but then you'll have to find your way into another area.'
'M3GAN' and 'M3GAN 2.0,' for all their enjoyable sci-fi nuttiness, are expressly about these questions of AI's prominence. They may be horror movies with training wheels, but they're also teaching PG-13 audiences to maintain a healthy skepticism about the future. Their lineage goes back to '2001: A Space Odyssey' and the prescient 1970 nightmare 'Colossus: The Forbin Project,' about two AIs that take over the world's nuclear arsenal, a plot that reemerges in the new 'Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning.'
'The reason I did 'M3GAN' was out of frustration as a parent,' says Johnstone. 'I was bringing my children up in this age of devices and trying to figure out where the balance lies and seeing everyone around me kind of accept it and thinking, Wait, there's got to be a middle ground here. Why aren't schools having a conversation?'
If Morot and Tse, both at the bleeding edge of their field, end up making AI palatable for a younger generation, with M3GAN as their mascot, they're at least doing it the old-school way, with tools that inspired them from the start. They've brought out a mechanical head for me to see — it's actually the first doll they ever built (just without the skin) and it has a rather large speaking cameo in the new movie: an unsettling scene about rebuilding in an underground bunker and saving the world before it's too late.
'We were lucky,' Tse says — by which she means, lucky that they saved this prototype for the moment. The glistening jawline and lidless eyes are giving unmistakable Terminator vibes. Morot cradles the head, still that boy dreaming of Fangoria covers.
It's the kind of thing you hold onto in a lab in Valencia.