![]() “Still, I’d get them all lasered off if it wasn’t hours and hours of brutal pain.” He clucked at Baxter: time to move on. “I hate them all,” he said, turning his left wrist inward, then joking that the inky message he’d concealed “says, ‘Cut here.’ ” It takes three hours in makeup to mask them: “You do see one in ‘Mississippi Grind,’ a six of hearts on my leg, which makes sense for the role,” he said. Reynolds’s body is spackled with tattoos from his youth. If I saw a supercut of my tricks from that period-the wry eyebrow raise, followed by the slow, deadpan turn . . . In Reynolds’s early comedies, he said, “I was just aping Chevy Chase. He projects an air of extraordinary confidence, the wise owl of humanity-but it’s all bullshit.” Channelling a character’s bullshit gets easier after you shed your own. “But I learned the Jungian idea that whatever you think you hate in the other person is something you actually can’t stand in yourself.”Ĭurtis, in “Mississippi Grind,” is drawn to Gerry, Reynolds said, because “there’s something about that face I want to help-a dying animal I want to give a bit of peace. There’s a part of me that still thinks, How do I annihilate this person verbally, turn them into a liquid, and then watch that liquid evaporate in the summer sun?” He scratched Baxter’s ears. But it helped-that, and reading every book I could get my hands on about conflict resolution. “I would rather have spent the week punching myself in the penis. So I took a weeklong workshop in Santa Fe that had a sharing circle.” He made a face. In his twenties, he said, “I was explosive and pissed off all the time-a brawl with a friend of mine got out of control. The actor, who was previously married to Scarlett Johansson and engaged to Alanis Morissette, said, “I’ve experienced what it was like not to prioritize that, being together while you’re working, and it doesn’t end well.” The park is fifteen minutes from Reynolds’s house, and he often runs its five-mile loop, but today he was easing into reacquaintance he and his wife, the actress Blake Lively, and their young daughter had just returned from four months on his film set, in Vancouver, and three months on Lively’s set, in Bangkok. It was the worst, most awful thing ever!” “I behaved like a dying koi fish, flailing around and dry-heaving. Jumping from it into a pile of leaves, “I sunk up to my knees in what I quickly realized was a dead horse,” he said. I realized the explosions are small and many, and the spectacle can be just words.”Ī granite shelf by the trail reminded Reynolds of the time he’d parked his motorcycle near Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and climbed such a shelf, looking for a sheltered spot to relieve himself. “So I kept saying to Ryan and Anna, ‘Doesn’t something explosive need to happen?’ When I saw the screenings, I realized I was thirty-one flavors of wrong. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and I’ve made my share of conventional films,” Reynolds, who is thirty-eight, said. A meditative travelogue, written and directed by Ryan Fleck and Anna Boden, it follows two gamblers, Reynolds’s raffish Curtis and Ben Mendelsohn’s self-defeating Gerry, as they drive from Iowa to New Orleans, trying to win enough to enter a high-stakes poker game. Reynolds’s new film, “Mississippi Grind,” which opens next week, is much less pat. “It was like a very brief rom-com: boy walks dog, boy loses dog, boy makes public declaration of love, sincere music swells, and off we go into the wild blue yonder.” I went back in and said, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here!’ And Baxter jumped in the car and sat with his paw around my neck.” He laughed. ![]() ![]() Forty-five minutes later, I turned the car around-it was the way he’d looked going back into the cage. “I saw this guy and took him for a walk, then got in my car. “I was looking for a rescue dog for a friend who wanted a chocolate lab, which they didn’t have,” he recalled, clipping Baxter’s leash across his own chest like a bandolier. The actor said that he’d found the dog, a golden-retriever mix, at an S.P.C.A. The trail, at Ward Pound Ridge Reservation, an hour north of New York City, was cool and quiet. Ryan Reynolds’s dog, Baxter, padded through the woods, turning often to check on his master.
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