Knowing of Will’s antics with the famous Jack Sparrow, Henry manages to locate the iconic pirate, who is imprisoned after a fun drunken set-piece featuring a failed bank robbery and some familiar faces.
He owns a publishing company in Santa Monica, Perceval Press, which puts out volumes of his own painting, poetry, and Ansel Adams-ish photography – you name it, he dabbles in it – along with a slate of works by other artists and scholars.
(A typical new title, Dreams Before Extinction, by the Iranian artist Naeemeh Naeemaei, consists of 12 paintings of endangered species with facing text in two languages.) During Mortensen’s time in New Zealand on The Lord of the Rings, when he had already twigged that old editions of Tolkien were about to become highly prized, he would stop in at second-hand boutiques, and assembled a valuable collection.
He means it casually, but the phrase has a stray menace.
It’s the sort of line one of his film characters might mutter as they sat, quietly dominating a scene, absorbing new information, working out what to do with it.
Unfortunately, like Salazar’s ship, the fifth Pirates feels a little empty, haunted by the spectre of what came before.
There are fun, inconsequential moments but nothing particularly memorable, the film running out of steam midway through as the aforementioned flashbacks take over.
The second and third ones would have been straight to video.” Mortensen thinks – rightly – that The Fellowship of the Ring turned out the best of the three, perhaps largely because it was shot in one go.
“It was very confusing, we were going at such a pace, and they had so many units shooting, it was really insane.
He’s cut from the same chiselled, masculine material as Robert Mitchum, with whom he shares a dimpled chin and a taste for complex heroes.