Interrogation: Javier Bardem

Javier Bardem (Pic:Rex)

Your new film, Love In The Time Of Cholera, is a wonderful love story. Tell us more about it…

Javier Bardem: It’s based on a novel, and I think it’s the ultimate love story. It’s about a guy who really falls in love when he’s 14, and at 75 he still feels the same way, as if he’d seen her the day before. It’s not how love exists in the real world, but we all like to think that’s how it exists. That’s why we’re always fighting for it.

How are you with women?

JB: How am I with women? I am the same way I am with men. It’s all about how you relate to people and how you consider yourself. I think the most difficult love begins with one’s self. How you treat yourself is something you bring to your relationships.

How do you feel about doing nude scenes?

JB: I’m getting so old – it’s more uncomfortable to do those scenes now than when I was 20. I mean, I don’t have a big problem with nudity on screen. But usually the days when you do those naked love scenes are the weirdest ones on set. Everyone is uncomfortable. You’re like, ‘Hi. How are you?’ Then the next minute you’re with an actress who you don’t know and you’re pretending to make love to her in front of all the crew. The acting challenge is pretending things are OK.

How do you break the ice?

JB: I don’t tell jokes. I really do respect the actress. I don’t want to do anything that will put the other person in a more uncomfortable position. I think it’s about making the woman feel OK. Although I’ve also done nude scenes with men and they usually don’t really worry about it at all.

Can you watch yourself on screen?

JB: I can, as long as it’s been a long time since I did the movie. I still can’t watch No Country For Old Men, because it’s too recent and I know what I was trying to achieve. Also, all the way through you’re like, ‘Omigod, omigod, here comes my nose and my funny, stupid eyes. Look at that big face…’ I mean, I have my ego, but it’s weird to see yourself on screen, man.

You’re currently working with your girlfriend Penélope Cruz in Woody Allen’s film, Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Is it a comedy?

JB: (Laughs) I don’t know, it should be with that title, right? It really depends on how he puts it together. I think it’s a very Woody Allen movie, though, as it’s about relationships. We’ll see how it ends up.

What’s it like working with your girlfriend?

JB: She is a wonderful actress. I’ve been a big fan of her work for a long time. She has this ability to draw you in on screen. As for my personal life, I don’t like to talk about it.

How do you feel about being labelled a sex symbol?

JB: It’s ridiculous. It just makes me laugh, because I look in the mirror and I don’t see a sex symbol. I just see a guy who looks like he’s been beaten with a baseball bat. I mean, is this the face of a sex symbol? They say that because I work in the movies. Take Brad Pitt – now there’s a sexy man. If Brad Pitt was a plumber, he’d still be a sex symbol and he’d be a sexy plumber.

Do you miss your anonymity?

JB: It’s not that bad. It gets harder to take the subway in Spain now, but, yes, I do. A part of being an actor is I people watch. I like to observe their behaviour, watch their reactions on the street and see how they talk to each other, and that’s impossible when they are looking back at you. I used to enjoy taking the train and watching people in their own minds, struggling with themselves, and now I have to choose my time to ride the train when it’s not too crowded. It’s a pity, yes.

Your parents are actors and you dedicated your Oscar to your mum. Was it inevitable you’d follow them into the business?

JB: Yes, it’s true, although I wanted to become a painter for a while. I think it was because I was lazy. The earliest memories I have from my childhood are of my mum getting ready to go on stage. I must have been about five and I would watch her vomiting backstage on opening night, and then the next minute she became Isabella, the Queen of Spain. At the time I remember thinking, ‘What kind of schizophrenic job is this?’ Now it all makes sense.

Have you acted with your mum, Pilar, before?

JB: Yes, a few times. The first time was on Las Edades de Lulú (The Ages Of Lulu, 1990). On the first day of shooting in my life I was in my underwear, dressed as a woman, punching a woman’s head against the wall while my mother, who was playing a whore, was screaming, ‘Don’t kill her! Don’t kill her!’ I thought, this will be nice dinner talk at the family table.

Is it true you’re a bit of a hypochondriac?

JB: I used to be, but I’m not that much any more. There was a time when I thought I had throat cancer and I went to see Pavarotti’s doctor in Vienna. It cost me a lot of money, which I didn’t have at the time, and this doctor spoke to me in German, so I didn’t understand a word. I was almost in tears, because I thought this man was telling me bad news about my throat and it was all in German. I made him write everything down in English, and basically he wrote, ‘It’s fine. That’ll be £250.’

What are you working on next?

JB: I may do a musical in English. Is that weird, or what? Good, I always try to be an uncomfortable soul. But it may turn into a comedy after I’m done with it…

Love In The Time Of Cholera is in cinemas now

Javier’s reality check

What was the last domestic thing you did?

I made my bed this morning, even though I’m staying in a hotel, which is kind of odd.

What is a brolly?

Isn’t that a short word for an umbrella?

Who are Posh and Becks?

The soccer guy, David Beckham, and his wife. He’s good on the field. Aren’t they everywhere these days?

You played a psychotic killer in No Country For Old Men. Are you a pussycat in real life?

Of course. I hate violence. When I hold a gun, I feel death in my hands, but it’s fun to pretend in the movies.

Words: Peter Symth.


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