What does it mean to become a better man? A great man?

A great man is largely forgotten by the public. He doesn't stand on top of a mountain waving a flag saying, "Look at me—I'm a great man." A great man often disappears into the ether. Hardly anyone notices that he was even there, apart from his family and close friends. He was reliable. He showed up. He was there. He was useful where he could be. He made mistakes. Tried to make better of those mistakes. Doesn't mean you have to cure cancer or understand the theory of relativity. It's not necessarily as rock-and-roll or as cool as you might think. Part of being a great man is accepting that. To dare to be average and normal is actually a pathway to becoming a great man. To have more humility. To accept responsibility more. To just get on with what's in front of your face. And to leave no fucking indelible mark of your ever being here, apart from the fact that you were there for your family to the best of your ability. It's not an easy task. I'll probably fuck it up.

But it's hard to be "average" and "normal" when you have a . . .

A job that says "Look at me! Aren't I great? Or special?" I'm not worrying about my diamond-studded shoes or, you know, my privileges. That would be ridiculous. I got lucky. I love what I do. I'm going to fucking ride it until the wheels fall off. Do what you love doing, do it well—everything should fit into place. And if you happen to make money doing it, lucky cunt. But there's no difference between a $5 performance and a $50 million performance to me. You know what I mean? My work wouldn't change depending on how much money you gave me. I have no desire to be a star. I'd like to be normal. 'Cause I'm already nuts anyway. I don't fucking need to be any further crazy.

How nuts are you, though?

I'm not nuts at all.

But a number of stories about you are built on the idea that here's this guy who is a terrific actor but is a mystery, and ask the question "Is there something off?" Does that surprise you?

No. Mystery is very healthy in this business anyway. Why wouldn't I capitalize on mystery? If you look at the old movie stars, you didn't know anything about them. It allowed them to transform and shape-shift into different characters. It was easier to believe what somebody is if you don't know anything about them. If you had a dossier on me, telling you about who I am, where I've been, what I've done, for years, it makes it harder to maintain the ability to transform. I want to leave as little dossier around as possible. So, if there's a mystery in any way, great. That's great. For obvious reasons, isn't it? 'Cause you can do business with that. See, myths, usually asinine, circulate about people, normally by people who don't know them.

And ultimately, for me, if there's an element of danger or madness or insanity, I'll let people think that. That's fine. Because I have played to those strengths with Bronson [in Bronson] or Bane [in The Dark Knight Rises] or Forrest [in Lawless], whatever . . . there's elements of [Warrior's] Tommy Conlon violence and darkness that goes on in there. I've got a history of nonjudgmental complete recklessness. So, it's not that I can't draw from sources. And I would be foolish not to in my work. It's gotta go somewhere. But it's quite an open book. And I'm not really putting it on, either. Certainly not to a huge level. There's things I haven't really experienced, so I'm just acting. But elements of danger? Yeah, there's a truth to that. There's an absolute truth to that. But am I dangerous? Absolutely not. Am I insane? Absolutely not. But do I go to places which are scary and uncomfortable for some people? Yes.