The Unnerving Presence of Javier Bardem

He's known for playing fanatics and murderous psychopaths. In real life, he loves his wife (and Brad Pitt) and cries during E.T.

- HEMAL JHAVERI

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.)