"One shouldn't stubbornly cling to a single dream: sometimes life has a better one for you."
Can Yaman doesn't fully believe in "sliding doors": he thinks they should be embraced, yes, but not that they are merely the fruit of chance. "I am not a man who relies on luck. I rely on study, discipline, sacrifices: freedom—true freedom—only arrives that way," he recounts, sitting on the sofa of a villa outside Rome, in the backstage of this shoot, with the calm of someone who has learned to know himself.
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Do you think that in 2025 we have abandoned the "alpha male" model?
"I've never gotten too deep into these discussions, but I know there is also talk of the 'sigma male.' He is a man who doesn't enter into useless competitions with others, doesn't need to show himself as strong at all costs, and has rediscovered his tenderness. Sandokan, for me, is a sigma male, not an alpha."
And Can Yaman?
"In this, I resemble Sandokan. I know: looking at me, I might seem like the classic alpha male. But in reality, I am the opposite. I don't need to prove anything; I don't live on competition or aggression. I am much more interested in calm, in kindness."
What is your relationship with your beauty?
"It is something I don't think about. I use it for my craft, certainly: I started working thanks to my face. But I don't trust beauty: in real life, what I do doesn't depend on how I look. If I had let everything revolve around that, it would have been a problem. I train every day for discipline. In fact, sometimes beauty can even become an obstacle."
[Image Description: Tank top and trousers, Dolce&Gabbana. Rose gold watch, Patek Philippe.]
In what sense?
"In Turkey, I started with romantic comedies. Until I was 29 or 30, I couldn't do anything else, even though inside I knew I could give more. It’s a common problem for many American actors too: Matthew McConaughey said he turned down 14 million for a rom-com just to change paths, and then Dallas Buyers Club arrived. at the last Venice Film Festival, Dwayne Johnson said that for years he was seen only through his physicality. I was reckless: I left Turkey, I came to Italy looking for another career, and then Sandokan arrived. Now I am filming an action series in Spain. I dream of a James Bond future, but I know that if new doors open, it is because I have worked seriously. Freedom comes from courage, but also from knowledge."
What is your idea of success?
"It's complicated. If you are a person of value, if you have something to offer others, success comes on its own. The director of Sandokan, Jan Michelini, told me a phrase I have made my own: 'We are only responsible for the present.' Today you do what you must do, tomorrow you will do what you will have to do. If you live like this, life puts surprises in front of you: you just have to seize them. This is my mentality: wait, but be prepared."
And when success arrives, does anything change?
"I am the same person I was twenty years ago. But we all must evolve: change shouldn't be scary. Now Sandokan will come out: it will arrive in America, in England, and maybe I will have new fans. Life will change, sure, because every job takes you in a different direction. But my essence, no, that doesn't change. I grew up in a family that gave me love; I have solid foundations. I don't have childhood traumas to compensate for with success."
How do you protect yourself today from such massive exposure?
"Managing the public versus the private is a sacrifice that all famous people make, not just me. For me, however, it is more natural because I have always loved solitude. I know how to keep myself occupied; I have many hobbies. I consider solitude a prize."
What is love like at 36?
"You don't do the follies of your twenties anymore. You grow up, you become a different person. Today I seek simplicity, home, tranquility. In love, what matters is how you are within the four walls: if you can spend three months locked in a house with someone and laugh every day, then she is the right person."
Would you like to have children?
"This year I’ve thought about it more than usual. But my life is complicated: I am always traveling, living on sets. Now I am in Spain, then I return to Rome. Finding a base is difficult, and also finding a woman who can follow this rhythm. Sometimes you love each other, but you live in different cities. Sometimes I find myself wondering: if I had a son, where would he grow up? What language would he speak? I don’t have simple answers.”
Do you like living in Rome?
"I've lived here for five years. For me, the city isn't what's important, but the home, and wherever I go I manage to make that place home. After living in hotels, I moved near the Colosseum, but it was a mistake: too much exposure. At 30, I liked that madness, the feeling of conquering a new world. Now I seek serenity. I live in a more secluded area; no one knows my address. Not because I don't love my fans—I love them very much—but to protect myself. Being Turkish helped me: we are practical people, we adapt quickly. And in this, Italians and Turks are similar."
What is your relationship with your parents today?
"My father lives in Bodrum with my uncle; he loves being alone, like me. My mother is there too now: she retired and became passionate about tango. She has become incredibly good; she organizes festivals, and many of my fans even become her students. She has her cats. We are far apart, but always close at heart."
What makes you proudest?
"My work, my family. I am proud of everything, even my zodiac sign—I am a Scorpio. Being proud is a choice: not complaining, not playing the victim. I always look for the positive side, even in sacrifices."
Now that we are at the end, I have to ask: your last interview was four years ago, right here with Vanity Fair. Then nothing. What holds you back from telling your story?
"Even if I seem very confident, interviews give me anxiety. Talking about myself, in an era where everything is decontextualized, is complicated. It has happened that some sentences were cut, used against me. So, you learn to protect yourself. I chose to speak little and let my work do it. As footballers say: I will answer on the field."
Can Yaman doesn't fully believe in "sliding doors": he thinks they should be embraced, yes, but not that they are merely the fruit of chance. "I am not a man who relies on luck. I rely on study, discipline, sacrifices: freedom—true freedom—only arrives that way," he recounts, sitting on the sofa of a villa outside Rome, in the backstage of this shoot, with the calm of someone who has learned to know himself.
Thirty-six years old, born in Istanbul, he has become a global phenomenon who moves crowds in airports and blocks city streets. He could have been many other things: an athlete, an international lawyer, the leading star of Turkish soap operas. He smiles, the way one smiles at the versions of oneself that never came to be.
"Can I give you an example?" he continues. "I wanted so badly to be a footballer; I still think about it today. But I know my limits: my body tends to get injured. I am big, 100 kilos, whereas footballers weigh a maximum of 70. If I had obsessed over football, maybe today I would be a mediocre player in a minor league. Instead, life—or God, or destiny—surprised me with another path."
Now Yaman is at another turning point. After more than five years of waiting and training, he is ready to don the robes of Sandokan, in the new international blockbuster series produced by Lux Vide with Rai Fiction, airing from December 1st on Rai1. It is a role that could change everything, all over again.
But be warned: his Sandokan is not the one we remember. He is a modern Sandokan, a kind pirate, emotional, complex, who knows fragility and does not fear it. A man who resembles—more than we could have imagined—Yaman himself. He will admit this in these pages, almost with effort, as he is a man who does not like to talk about himself.
Let’s rewind the tape: what is your first memory as a child?
"I have a photo where I am one year old, holding a comb in my hand. My grandfather always carried it in his pocket; he had given it to me as a toy. My mother says I cried a lot, and that comb was the only thing that calmed me down. I was very agitated, but never a brat: when they explained something to me calmly, I understood it and didn't make the mistake again. Once I was tearing leaves off plants, and she told me they were living beings: from that moment on, I never did it again. Even then, I needed to understand the logic of things."
When you were born, your parents were very young.
"My mother was 22, my father 27. I am an only child; they separated when I was five, so I never remember them together. But they remained friends, and my life was serene. I always received affection; I never lacked anything. We lived on the outskirts of Istanbul, on the twelfth floor of a residential complex overlooking a small forest: there were football and basketball courts."
Were you passionate about sports?
"My father's first gift was a ball. He and my uncles were footballers; one even coached Beşiktaş. My mother, on the other hand, cared deeply about education. By elementary school, I had already learned English. I chose the Italian school because they only accepted 80 students a year, and I wanted to be one of them. In high school, I realized that languages could open enormous doors. I was selected as one of the 36 best Turkish students for an exchange program in the United States: I lived for a year with an American family. Afterward, I chose law."
Why law?
"My father had advised it, and I always listened to him. I dreamed of becoming an international lawyer. Acting came by chance. After graduation, I started working in a law firm: twelve hours sitting in front of a computer. It wasn't for me; I needed to move, I was depressed. I remembered that at university they suggested theater courses to improve body language: I signed up, then I took private acting lessons. I thought it was a hobby. Then the auditions came."
Do you remember the first one?
"With a female director. She told me I was too groomed, too muscular, too handsome for the role. She asked me to 'ugly myself up,' to lose weight. I did it. At the second audition, she said: 'Now, yes, you are perfect.' From there, I never did another audition. In Turkey, if a series works, you become famous after two episodes."
What is the Turkish television system like?
"Extremely hard. You work 16, 18 hours a day: you sleep four and go back to the set. Every week you shoot 150-minute episodes; you become a war machine. It is a Darwinian system: those who can't handle it disappear, those who remain become solid. Back then I was young, bold. After DayDreamer was broadcast in Italy, I went on vacation to Naples with my father. It was 2019. In front of the hotel, on the seafront, everything stopped for seven days: the fans wouldn't leave, even at night. I would go out with my father and we would spend five hours taking photos. The vacation became a continuous 'meet and greet' (laughs). That was when I realized how loved I was."
Is that when you decided to move to Italy?
"I arrived for Sandokan five years ago. Then the pandemic broke out, and I stayed in Rome. In the meantime, the series was postponed, and I filmed two seasons of Viola come il mare and El Turco. All that preparation—horse riding, combat—served me for Sandokan. Filming lasted only four months: the only way was to arrive extremely prepared. It is a once-in-a-lifetime role. I hope I did a good job."
Did you draw inspiration from Kabir Bedi’s Sandokan?
"We have never met. With great respect, I can say that I read all of Salgari's novels and watched the old works, but I wanted to create an authentic character. When I act, I draw inspiration from many things, but I don't imitate anyone. My Sandokan is a bit ascetic, a bit of a prophet, a bit of a savior of a people."
Do you see yourself in the definition "Tiger of Malaysia"?
"Today it's fashionable to say 'I feel like a lion' or tattoo a lion on your back, but it all seems very cliché to me: that idea of strong men who want to resemble a feline. I find it banal. We can call Sandokan a 'tiger' because he is physically agile, but he has his fragilities."
"Can I give you an example?" he continues. "I wanted so badly to be a footballer; I still think about it today. But I know my limits: my body tends to get injured. I am big, 100 kilos, whereas footballers weigh a maximum of 70. If I had obsessed over football, maybe today I would be a mediocre player in a minor league. Instead, life—or God, or destiny—surprised me with another path."
Now Yaman is at another turning point. After more than five years of waiting and training, he is ready to don the robes of Sandokan, in the new international blockbuster series produced by Lux Vide with Rai Fiction, airing from December 1st on Rai1. It is a role that could change everything, all over again.
But be warned: his Sandokan is not the one we remember. He is a modern Sandokan, a kind pirate, emotional, complex, who knows fragility and does not fear it. A man who resembles—more than we could have imagined—Yaman himself. He will admit this in these pages, almost with effort, as he is a man who does not like to talk about himself.
Let’s rewind the tape: what is your first memory as a child?
"I have a photo where I am one year old, holding a comb in my hand. My grandfather always carried it in his pocket; he had given it to me as a toy. My mother says I cried a lot, and that comb was the only thing that calmed me down. I was very agitated, but never a brat: when they explained something to me calmly, I understood it and didn't make the mistake again. Once I was tearing leaves off plants, and she told me they were living beings: from that moment on, I never did it again. Even then, I needed to understand the logic of things."
When you were born, your parents were very young.
"My mother was 22, my father 27. I am an only child; they separated when I was five, so I never remember them together. But they remained friends, and my life was serene. I always received affection; I never lacked anything. We lived on the outskirts of Istanbul, on the twelfth floor of a residential complex overlooking a small forest: there were football and basketball courts."
Were you passionate about sports?
"My father's first gift was a ball. He and my uncles were footballers; one even coached Beşiktaş. My mother, on the other hand, cared deeply about education. By elementary school, I had already learned English. I chose the Italian school because they only accepted 80 students a year, and I wanted to be one of them. In high school, I realized that languages could open enormous doors. I was selected as one of the 36 best Turkish students for an exchange program in the United States: I lived for a year with an American family. Afterward, I chose law."
Why law?
"My father had advised it, and I always listened to him. I dreamed of becoming an international lawyer. Acting came by chance. After graduation, I started working in a law firm: twelve hours sitting in front of a computer. It wasn't for me; I needed to move, I was depressed. I remembered that at university they suggested theater courses to improve body language: I signed up, then I took private acting lessons. I thought it was a hobby. Then the auditions came."
Do you remember the first one?
"With a female director. She told me I was too groomed, too muscular, too handsome for the role. She asked me to 'ugly myself up,' to lose weight. I did it. At the second audition, she said: 'Now, yes, you are perfect.' From there, I never did another audition. In Turkey, if a series works, you become famous after two episodes."
What is the Turkish television system like?
"Extremely hard. You work 16, 18 hours a day: you sleep four and go back to the set. Every week you shoot 150-minute episodes; you become a war machine. It is a Darwinian system: those who can't handle it disappear, those who remain become solid. Back then I was young, bold. After DayDreamer was broadcast in Italy, I went on vacation to Naples with my father. It was 2019. In front of the hotel, on the seafront, everything stopped for seven days: the fans wouldn't leave, even at night. I would go out with my father and we would spend five hours taking photos. The vacation became a continuous 'meet and greet' (laughs). That was when I realized how loved I was."
Is that when you decided to move to Italy?
"I arrived for Sandokan five years ago. Then the pandemic broke out, and I stayed in Rome. In the meantime, the series was postponed, and I filmed two seasons of Viola come il mare and El Turco. All that preparation—horse riding, combat—served me for Sandokan. Filming lasted only four months: the only way was to arrive extremely prepared. It is a once-in-a-lifetime role. I hope I did a good job."
Did you draw inspiration from Kabir Bedi’s Sandokan?
"We have never met. With great respect, I can say that I read all of Salgari's novels and watched the old works, but I wanted to create an authentic character. When I act, I draw inspiration from many things, but I don't imitate anyone. My Sandokan is a bit ascetic, a bit of a prophet, a bit of a savior of a people."
Do you see yourself in the definition "Tiger of Malaysia"?
"Today it's fashionable to say 'I feel like a lion' or tattoo a lion on your back, but it all seems very cliché to me: that idea of strong men who want to resemble a feline. I find it banal. We can call Sandokan a 'tiger' because he is physically agile, but he has his fragilities."
%20(4).jpg)
Do you think that in 2025 we have abandoned the "alpha male" model?
"I've never gotten too deep into these discussions, but I know there is also talk of the 'sigma male.' He is a man who doesn't enter into useless competitions with others, doesn't need to show himself as strong at all costs, and has rediscovered his tenderness. Sandokan, for me, is a sigma male, not an alpha."
And Can Yaman?
"In this, I resemble Sandokan. I know: looking at me, I might seem like the classic alpha male. But in reality, I am the opposite. I don't need to prove anything; I don't live on competition or aggression. I am much more interested in calm, in kindness."
What is your relationship with your beauty?
"It is something I don't think about. I use it for my craft, certainly: I started working thanks to my face. But I don't trust beauty: in real life, what I do doesn't depend on how I look. If I had let everything revolve around that, it would have been a problem. I train every day for discipline. In fact, sometimes beauty can even become an obstacle."
[Image Description: Tank top and trousers, Dolce&Gabbana. Rose gold watch, Patek Philippe.]
In what sense?
"In Turkey, I started with romantic comedies. Until I was 29 or 30, I couldn't do anything else, even though inside I knew I could give more. It’s a common problem for many American actors too: Matthew McConaughey said he turned down 14 million for a rom-com just to change paths, and then Dallas Buyers Club arrived. at the last Venice Film Festival, Dwayne Johnson said that for years he was seen only through his physicality. I was reckless: I left Turkey, I came to Italy looking for another career, and then Sandokan arrived. Now I am filming an action series in Spain. I dream of a James Bond future, but I know that if new doors open, it is because I have worked seriously. Freedom comes from courage, but also from knowledge."
What is your idea of success?
"It's complicated. If you are a person of value, if you have something to offer others, success comes on its own. The director of Sandokan, Jan Michelini, told me a phrase I have made my own: 'We are only responsible for the present.' Today you do what you must do, tomorrow you will do what you will have to do. If you live like this, life puts surprises in front of you: you just have to seize them. This is my mentality: wait, but be prepared."
And when success arrives, does anything change?
"I am the same person I was twenty years ago. But we all must evolve: change shouldn't be scary. Now Sandokan will come out: it will arrive in America, in England, and maybe I will have new fans. Life will change, sure, because every job takes you in a different direction. But my essence, no, that doesn't change. I grew up in a family that gave me love; I have solid foundations. I don't have childhood traumas to compensate for with success."
How do you protect yourself today from such massive exposure?
"Managing the public versus the private is a sacrifice that all famous people make, not just me. For me, however, it is more natural because I have always loved solitude. I know how to keep myself occupied; I have many hobbies. I consider solitude a prize."
What is love like at 36?
"You don't do the follies of your twenties anymore. You grow up, you become a different person. Today I seek simplicity, home, tranquility. In love, what matters is how you are within the four walls: if you can spend three months locked in a house with someone and laugh every day, then she is the right person."
Would you like to have children?
"This year I’ve thought about it more than usual. But my life is complicated: I am always traveling, living on sets. Now I am in Spain, then I return to Rome. Finding a base is difficult, and also finding a woman who can follow this rhythm. Sometimes you love each other, but you live in different cities. Sometimes I find myself wondering: if I had a son, where would he grow up? What language would he speak? I don’t have simple answers.”
Do you like living in Rome?
"I've lived here for five years. For me, the city isn't what's important, but the home, and wherever I go I manage to make that place home. After living in hotels, I moved near the Colosseum, but it was a mistake: too much exposure. At 30, I liked that madness, the feeling of conquering a new world. Now I seek serenity. I live in a more secluded area; no one knows my address. Not because I don't love my fans—I love them very much—but to protect myself. Being Turkish helped me: we are practical people, we adapt quickly. And in this, Italians and Turks are similar."
What is your relationship with your parents today?
"My father lives in Bodrum with my uncle; he loves being alone, like me. My mother is there too now: she retired and became passionate about tango. She has become incredibly good; she organizes festivals, and many of my fans even become her students. She has her cats. We are far apart, but always close at heart."
What makes you proudest?
"My work, my family. I am proud of everything, even my zodiac sign—I am a Scorpio. Being proud is a choice: not complaining, not playing the victim. I always look for the positive side, even in sacrifices."
Now that we are at the end, I have to ask: your last interview was four years ago, right here with Vanity Fair. Then nothing. What holds you back from telling your story?
"Even if I seem very confident, interviews give me anxiety. Talking about myself, in an era where everything is decontextualized, is complicated. It has happened that some sentences were cut, used against me. So, you learn to protect yourself. I chose to speak little and let my work do it. As footballers say: I will answer on the field."
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