MY GUESS IS that most employees at the Beverly Hills Hotel know who all the big-name movie stars are, but when I arrive at the hotel restaurant and there’s some confusion about the reservation, I find myself unable to say the relevant name. A simple “I’m here to meet Javier Bardem” would instantly clear things up, but the name-drop feels … entitled? Arrogant, somehow? I wait at the bar, worried I’ve soured the interview before it even starts. I’m expecting Bardem to be intense and demanding. He is, after all, scarily good at playing scary people.
Silly me. When Bardem arrives a few minutes later, he puts the lie to all that life-imitating-art nonsense. If I feel any unease at all, it’s because I’m naively surprised at how deferential, how accommodating, he is to me. Table or booth? Inside or outside? Heat lamp or no heat lamp? “Please, whatever you like,” Bardem says, in that distinctive baritone. “However you are comfortable.”
We end up on the chilly but sun-dappled patio, in a mint green booth under reams of ivy. His publicist has warned me that Bardem doesn’t like to talk about his family, but within minutes he’s mentioning his wife’s recent trip to India, for a documentary she’s filming. When I note that he talks about his wife as if I don’t know who she is, a sly smile brightens his face. “Well, you never know,” he says. We all know who she is. (Don’t we? She’s Penelope Cruz.)
In person, Bardem is light, funny, playful with his words and expressions. He uses hand gestures to make up for the occasional English word he can’t quite find. As we talk, it becomes clear he’s also a man of commitment. This is evident in his decades-long body of work, from his early performance as Cuban author Reinaldo Arenas in Before Night Falls to his chilling, Oscar-winning portrayal of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. Although his latest role—as Stilgar, a Fremen tribal leader in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two—isn’t a starring one, it still packs a Bardemian wallop. Stilgar didn’t have much to do in Part One, but in Two, he’s the steady drumbeat behind Paul Atreides’ messianic rise to power on the scorching desert planet Arrakis.
Bardem’s commitment, I learn, doesn’t stop at acting—it stretches all the way into our lunch. I don’t know how else to say it, but this man is committed to sitting here, in this booth, with me, having a conversation. It’s not intensity, per se, but presence. What some people these days call mindfulness. Bardem’s eyes don’t skip around the patio or wander away; his hands don’t absently fumble to check his phone. His focus is so all-consuming that we forget we’re at a restaurant, fail to order food, and barely remember to hydrate. He anticipates questions before I can ask them. He knows just when to tell a story. His favorite themes seem to be family and faith, and when we realize we’ve both lost our mothers, the conversation takes a hard pivot to grief. If he believes in anything, he says, it’s in the power of people to help and heal each other.
At one point, Bardem has an elbow propped up on the banquette, his head resting against an open palm, the ivy mingling unnoticed in his hair. He’s describing a guided meditation he did years ago, during the filming of Biutiful, that brought him real peace and insight. As he talks, his voice is hushed and his eyes are locked on mine. Even an interrupting waiter can’t break the connection. At this moment, it feels like the story he’s telling is an extension of his acting practice. Later, it occurs to me he brought it up to soothe our shared loss.
Near the end of our not-quite-lunch, I realize I’m in a kind of daze—as if I’ve been wandering the desert myself, without a stillsuit. We are both, in fact, quite parched, but getting another drink would be committing to time Bardem doesn’t have. He makes moves to leave, but lingers at the booth. There are always more stories to tell.
Hemal Jhaveri: We were originally supposed to meet in Daytona, where you were shooting an F1 film.
JAVIER BARDEM: Yeah. That film was supposed to finish last year, but then the strike happened.
Are you an F1 fan?
Not really. I’m not very much into cars myself. They asked me to read a script and I thought, “Hmm, that’s interesting,” because it’s really heavy on the people that are driving those cars. They’re risking their lives, no doubt, but that pressure, I was fascinated by it. How brutal it is in the sense that you either win or you fucking lose and you’re out, with these people that are mostly in their early twenties.
They’re very young.
I started to dig into this Netflix series, Drive to Survive. And then I was hooked on it. Then we went to Silverstone to shoot and I was starstruck. And Brad [Pitt] is driving a real car, an F2 car. An F2 car goes fast.
You’ve never worked with Brad Pitt before, right?
I knew him a little bit, but not much. I grew up watching Brad Pitt, and I think he’s an amazing actor. We had so much fun. He’s so open, he’s so in the game. He doesn’t care, he is like, “Bring it on.” And we played tennis and it was fantastic.
Every time someone talks about Brad Pitt, they go on and on about how handsome he is.
I mean, he’s 60 years old, and you cannot believe it. He’s handsome, but he’s more—of course, he’s handsome, but it’s about—well, you know what it is? It’s the energy. The behavior, the action, the feeling, the vibe. He comes to a set and everybody’s comfortable. He made me feel relaxed, like, in a second.
We’re already off-topic. We’re here to talk about Dune: Part Two. What was the process of shooting the movie like?
This one was different because the first one, it was a little role for me. The second one, it was more like being on the set and being with everyone and being there for a long time.
It always amazes me the amount of work and effort and sacrifice a lot of people are putting in for me to be able to say that line in that moment. For me to be able to just play a scene with Timothée in the middle of the dunes in Abu Dhabi, the amount of people putting themselves under the heat, constructing roads. A lot of people are putting themselves into very hard circumstances and situations for us to just be able to go there, step on the sand, and say the line.
But you do a good job of saying the line.
Well, if after all that you fuck it up, it’s like, “Man, you should be fired immediately.”
What about your relationship with your costars? You spent a lot of time with Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya.
Well, there’s a generational gap there. I’m 54, they’re, what, 27?
They’re in their twenties, yeah.
I was closer to Josh [Brolin], who I’ve known for longer. With Timothée, Zendaya, Florence, and Austin, I was always a spectator of their beautiful energy, of their beautiful commitment, of the way they were bonding with each other through their joy. I was a witness to that strength of spirit that all the youth can give you. And you go, “Wow, I love that. I can take a little bit of that.”
You share a lot of screen time with Timothée, particularly, in that your character Stilgar is a mentor for Paul.
I’m always saying that Timothée must have a very high IQ. He’s so smart. The way he behaves on set and with others, the way he carries his own weight, it’s very healthy. It’s very inspiring in the sense that I don’t see confusion, I don’t see manipulation. In Zendaya too, by the way. I don’t see any of the dark sides of the coin that success at that level brings. The opposite. I see clearness, I see honesty, I see transparency, I see commitment, and I see a lot of gratitude in both.
Talk more about Stilgar. He’s a devout man of faith. Almost a zealot.
He’s a fanatic. He really focuses on wanting to create this figure [of Paul], so his people, his tribe, his village, his group, can have something to hope for and fight for because they feel abandoned.
He’s almost fabricating it. He’s almost willing it into existence.
Yes. And I don’t agree with that. That’s the terms of fanaticism, and any fanaticism is bad. But it’s very appealing to play a character like that because there’s a moment where there’s no logic in it. There’s no common sense anymore.
I’m not sure we’re even rooting for Paul throughout the entire film.
I think the story goes to that place of, is the messiah real or is the messiah constructed, tailored to our needs? Is it because we have such a strong need that we create somebody to hold our hope with? That’s a good question about religion in itself.
Religion, faith—it’s such a through line in this movie. What about your faith?
For me, faith would be in each other. Faith would be, “I’m here for you, you’re there for me, and we better do this together because otherwise we’re not going to make it.” I’ve never been religious, but what I’ve seen very closely is my mom, who I was raised by. She was a divorced mother in the time where divorce was not allowed in Spain, an actress when being an actress was a little less than being a prostitute—with all the respect to the prostitutes. We had no money. I saw her working so hard and making sure that we have what we need. Not what we wanted, but what we need. There were hard times, but we survived because of her. That’s my faith. That’s what I believe in.
Your mother was a very famous Spanish actress.
I was very, very, very close to my mom. My mom passed away two years ago.
Oh, she did? I’m so sorry.
Yeah. It’s hard.
My mom passed away seven years ago.
Were you close to her?
We were very close.
Can you feel how close she is to you now?
Yes.
Even closer, right?
Yeah, I do feel like she’s still very close.
My father died when I was 26. And my mother died in 2021. It’s going to be three years in July. And when both your parents die, especially when your mother dies, you do go to a different level of orphanage. Like, “OK, I’m on my own.”
It doesn’t matter if you’re middle-aged.
It doesn’t matter if you’re 55. I’ve been lucky that in both cases, there was not a disease that made them go very slow. I was lucky. I’m not religious, but I believe. I believe she’s out there. I believe in the spirits. I believe in the energies.
And you believe, as you said, in people.
It’s more in the will of people. I said many years ago, sometimes religion is a manipulation of feelings based on fear. I respect every kind of ideology and religion, as long as you respect mine or my lack of religion.
You mentioned shooting on location for Dune. Was it hard to be away from your family?
Penelope and I, we are very hands-on with the kids. It’s the most important thing. Right now, we calibrate our times of working. So, there’s always one of us with the kids. In my case, I never stay longer than two weeks out of the house. Never, never, never, never. Not even in Covid. I don’t ask for more money, I don’t ask for a bigger trailer, I ask, like, “I want to be with my family.”
Are your kids creative?
They are very creative. And no wonder. I mean, Mom and Dad doing what they do. They are really open to artistic stimulus. Painting, music, dancing, acting, and sports, as well. It’s in our DNA. It’s not just something that they do for fun. It’s something that it’s part of them. At the same time, if you ask me, “Would I like them to be actors?” I’m conflicted.
Would you like them to be actors?
It’s a tough one. I mean, Mama and Daddy have been, and are still, very, very blessed and lucky. There was a study done last week where only 7 percent of the actors in Spain can make more than … What was it? 10,000 euros per year.
Oof.
Only 7 percent. That’s a tough one.
Yeah, but they have nepotism in their favor.
What?
Nepotism? Like, with—
Upotism?
Nepotism. Mom and Dad are famous, so the kids have a little advantage.
Oh, yeah, yeah. Nepo babies. Yes.
Exactly.
Which in a way, I am. My mother was very recognized when I started as an actor. And also, my uncle was a legendary director in Spain and Europe. So, I had that, and that gave me the chance to meet people. Is it going to be easy for my kids to meet people and to have some chances? Maybe, maybe. More than other ordinary people from the street, sure. But then, the exam they’re going to go through is going to be very thorough.
Is it about being able to make a living that makes you apprehensive? Or is it more about the industry and where it’s going?
No, the living. The living, the living. The rest, you cannot control. I mean, you cannot control shit. In life, it’s there, ...
Silly me. When Bardem arrives a few minutes later, he puts the lie to all that life-imitating-art nonsense. If I feel any unease at all, it’s because I’m naively surprised at how deferential, how accommodating, he is to me. Table or booth? Inside or outside? Heat lamp or no heat lamp? “Please, whatever you like,” Bardem says, in that distinctive baritone. “However you are comfortable.”
We end up on the chilly but sun-dappled patio, in a mint green booth under reams of ivy. His publicist has warned me that Bardem doesn’t like to talk about his family, but within minutes he’s mentioning his wife’s recent trip to India, for a documentary she’s filming. When I note that he talks about his wife as if I don’t know who she is, a sly smile brightens his face. “Well, you never know,” he says. We all know who she is. (Don’t we? She’s Penelope Cruz.)
In person, Bardem is light, funny, playful with his words and expressions. He uses hand gestures to make up for the occasional English word he can’t quite find. As we talk, it becomes clear he’s also a man of commitment. This is evident in his decades-long body of work, from his early performance as Cuban author Reinaldo Arenas in Before Night Falls to his chilling, Oscar-winning portrayal of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. Although his latest role—as Stilgar, a Fremen tribal leader in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two—isn’t a starring one, it still packs a Bardemian wallop. Stilgar didn’t have much to do in Part One, but in Two, he’s the steady drumbeat behind Paul Atreides’ messianic rise to power on the scorching desert planet Arrakis.
Bardem’s commitment, I learn, doesn’t stop at acting—it stretches all the way into our lunch. I don’t know how else to say it, but this man is committed to sitting here, in this booth, with me, having a conversation. It’s not intensity, per se, but presence. What some people these days call mindfulness. Bardem’s eyes don’t skip around the patio or wander away; his hands don’t absently fumble to check his phone. His focus is so all-consuming that we forget we’re at a restaurant, fail to order food, and barely remember to hydrate. He anticipates questions before I can ask them. He knows just when to tell a story. His favorite themes seem to be family and faith, and when we realize we’ve both lost our mothers, the conversation takes a hard pivot to grief. If he believes in anything, he says, it’s in the power of people to help and heal each other.
At one point, Bardem has an elbow propped up on the banquette, his head resting against an open palm, the ivy mingling unnoticed in his hair. He’s describing a guided meditation he did years ago, during the filming of Biutiful, that brought him real peace and insight. As he talks, his voice is hushed and his eyes are locked on mine. Even an interrupting waiter can’t break the connection. At this moment, it feels like the story he’s telling is an extension of his acting practice. Later, it occurs to me he brought it up to soothe our shared loss.
Near the end of our not-quite-lunch, I realize I’m in a kind of daze—as if I’ve been wandering the desert myself, without a stillsuit. We are both, in fact, quite parched, but getting another drink would be committing to time Bardem doesn’t have. He makes moves to leave, but lingers at the booth. There are always more stories to tell.
Hemal Jhaveri: We were originally supposed to meet in Daytona, where you were shooting an F1 film.
JAVIER BARDEM: Yeah. That film was supposed to finish last year, but then the strike happened.
Are you an F1 fan?
Not really. I’m not very much into cars myself. They asked me to read a script and I thought, “Hmm, that’s interesting,” because it’s really heavy on the people that are driving those cars. They’re risking their lives, no doubt, but that pressure, I was fascinated by it. How brutal it is in the sense that you either win or you fucking lose and you’re out, with these people that are mostly in their early twenties.
They’re very young.
I started to dig into this Netflix series, Drive to Survive. And then I was hooked on it. Then we went to Silverstone to shoot and I was starstruck. And Brad [Pitt] is driving a real car, an F2 car. An F2 car goes fast.
You’ve never worked with Brad Pitt before, right?
I knew him a little bit, but not much. I grew up watching Brad Pitt, and I think he’s an amazing actor. We had so much fun. He’s so open, he’s so in the game. He doesn’t care, he is like, “Bring it on.” And we played tennis and it was fantastic.
Every time someone talks about Brad Pitt, they go on and on about how handsome he is.
I mean, he’s 60 years old, and you cannot believe it. He’s handsome, but he’s more—of course, he’s handsome, but it’s about—well, you know what it is? It’s the energy. The behavior, the action, the feeling, the vibe. He comes to a set and everybody’s comfortable. He made me feel relaxed, like, in a second.
We’re already off-topic. We’re here to talk about Dune: Part Two. What was the process of shooting the movie like?
This one was different because the first one, it was a little role for me. The second one, it was more like being on the set and being with everyone and being there for a long time.
It always amazes me the amount of work and effort and sacrifice a lot of people are putting in for me to be able to say that line in that moment. For me to be able to just play a scene with Timothée in the middle of the dunes in Abu Dhabi, the amount of people putting themselves under the heat, constructing roads. A lot of people are putting themselves into very hard circumstances and situations for us to just be able to go there, step on the sand, and say the line.
But you do a good job of saying the line.
Well, if after all that you fuck it up, it’s like, “Man, you should be fired immediately.”
What about your relationship with your costars? You spent a lot of time with Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya.
Well, there’s a generational gap there. I’m 54, they’re, what, 27?
They’re in their twenties, yeah.
I was closer to Josh [Brolin], who I’ve known for longer. With Timothée, Zendaya, Florence, and Austin, I was always a spectator of their beautiful energy, of their beautiful commitment, of the way they were bonding with each other through their joy. I was a witness to that strength of spirit that all the youth can give you. And you go, “Wow, I love that. I can take a little bit of that.”
You share a lot of screen time with Timothée, particularly, in that your character Stilgar is a mentor for Paul.
I’m always saying that Timothée must have a very high IQ. He’s so smart. The way he behaves on set and with others, the way he carries his own weight, it’s very healthy. It’s very inspiring in the sense that I don’t see confusion, I don’t see manipulation. In Zendaya too, by the way. I don’t see any of the dark sides of the coin that success at that level brings. The opposite. I see clearness, I see honesty, I see transparency, I see commitment, and I see a lot of gratitude in both.
Talk more about Stilgar. He’s a devout man of faith. Almost a zealot.
He’s a fanatic. He really focuses on wanting to create this figure [of Paul], so his people, his tribe, his village, his group, can have something to hope for and fight for because they feel abandoned.
He’s almost fabricating it. He’s almost willing it into existence.
Yes. And I don’t agree with that. That’s the terms of fanaticism, and any fanaticism is bad. But it’s very appealing to play a character like that because there’s a moment where there’s no logic in it. There’s no common sense anymore.
I’m not sure we’re even rooting for Paul throughout the entire film.
I think the story goes to that place of, is the messiah real or is the messiah constructed, tailored to our needs? Is it because we have such a strong need that we create somebody to hold our hope with? That’s a good question about religion in itself.
Religion, faith—it’s such a through line in this movie. What about your faith?
For me, faith would be in each other. Faith would be, “I’m here for you, you’re there for me, and we better do this together because otherwise we’re not going to make it.” I’ve never been religious, but what I’ve seen very closely is my mom, who I was raised by. She was a divorced mother in the time where divorce was not allowed in Spain, an actress when being an actress was a little less than being a prostitute—with all the respect to the prostitutes. We had no money. I saw her working so hard and making sure that we have what we need. Not what we wanted, but what we need. There were hard times, but we survived because of her. That’s my faith. That’s what I believe in.
Your mother was a very famous Spanish actress.
I was very, very, very close to my mom. My mom passed away two years ago.
Oh, she did? I’m so sorry.
Yeah. It’s hard.
My mom passed away seven years ago.
Were you close to her?
We were very close.
Can you feel how close she is to you now?
Yes.
Even closer, right?
Yeah, I do feel like she’s still very close.
My father died when I was 26. And my mother died in 2021. It’s going to be three years in July. And when both your parents die, especially when your mother dies, you do go to a different level of orphanage. Like, “OK, I’m on my own.”
It doesn’t matter if you’re middle-aged.
It doesn’t matter if you’re 55. I’ve been lucky that in both cases, there was not a disease that made them go very slow. I was lucky. I’m not religious, but I believe. I believe she’s out there. I believe in the spirits. I believe in the energies.
And you believe, as you said, in people.
It’s more in the will of people. I said many years ago, sometimes religion is a manipulation of feelings based on fear. I respect every kind of ideology and religion, as long as you respect mine or my lack of religion.
You mentioned shooting on location for Dune. Was it hard to be away from your family?
Penelope and I, we are very hands-on with the kids. It’s the most important thing. Right now, we calibrate our times of working. So, there’s always one of us with the kids. In my case, I never stay longer than two weeks out of the house. Never, never, never, never. Not even in Covid. I don’t ask for more money, I don’t ask for a bigger trailer, I ask, like, “I want to be with my family.”
Are your kids creative?
They are very creative. And no wonder. I mean, Mom and Dad doing what they do. They are really open to artistic stimulus. Painting, music, dancing, acting, and sports, as well. It’s in our DNA. It’s not just something that they do for fun. It’s something that it’s part of them. At the same time, if you ask me, “Would I like them to be actors?” I’m conflicted.
Would you like them to be actors?
It’s a tough one. I mean, Mama and Daddy have been, and are still, very, very blessed and lucky. There was a study done last week where only 7 percent of the actors in Spain can make more than … What was it? 10,000 euros per year.
Oof.
Only 7 percent. That’s a tough one.
Yeah, but they have nepotism in their favor.
What?
Nepotism? Like, with—
Upotism?
Nepotism. Mom and Dad are famous, so the kids have a little advantage.
Oh, yeah, yeah. Nepo babies. Yes.
Exactly.
Which in a way, I am. My mother was very recognized when I started as an actor. And also, my uncle was a legendary director in Spain and Europe. So, I had that, and that gave me the chance to meet people. Is it going to be easy for my kids to meet people and to have some chances? Maybe, maybe. More than other ordinary people from the street, sure. But then, the exam they’re going to go through is going to be very thorough.
Is it about being able to make a living that makes you apprehensive? Or is it more about the industry and where it’s going?
No, the living. The living, the living. The rest, you cannot control. I mean, you cannot control shit. In life, it’s there, ...
You're reading a preview of
WIRED (Digital) - 1 Issue, May - June 2024