("He's a tough son of a bitch," he says of his old man. He said it reminded him of Denmark; Mortensen knows it had more to do with torturing his mother. ' "On the road, his phone rings again, this time with a call from his girlfriend in Spain. He made this place to hang out with his friends." He takes me into a small red barn on the property and opens the squeaky door.
"He rallied.") It took a while to find nurses he could trust, but he has hired one for today. Mortensen was married once, to the punk-rock singer Exene Cervenka, the mother of his twenty-eight-year-old son, Henry Blake Mortensen, an actor and musician.
I ask Robin what Mortensen was like in high school. "He was a blond, beautiful, that's what he was."Mortensen has never been like the other boys and girls.
"There's an ashtray." It's a cardboard cup from the airport Best Western, where he got his coffee this morning, that he has filled with an inch of water. To see him to the end, same as he did for his mother, Grace, who passed away a year ago. His father, also named Viggo Peter Mortensen, not so much. The old man is in Watertown, an hour and a half from the Syracuse airport, where Mortensen went to high school and where we are headed now. At times, he spontaneously pulls over to the side of the road for a good five or ten minutes to finish a train of thought—about life or death or demons or fears or his favorite soccer team in Argentina, San Lorenzo. Veira was a soccer player in Argentina.) He lives in Madrid, and he works when he wants to work, doing whatever he feels like doing.
He's prepared a gift bag."You can smoke in the car," Mortensen says, gesturing with his own smoldering American Spirit. here, in upstate New York, because Mortensen has taken some time off from his life in Madrid to care for his dying father. For the next eight hours, for about 250 miles, up to and around Watertown, through the Adirondacks and not quite to Canada—though he does ask if I brought my passport—with periodic stops at diners and waterfalls, lakes and trout ponds, his mother's grave and finally his father's farmhouse. Sometimes he drives cross-country, just for the hell of it. "They always do this thing where they try to upgrade me to some fancy fucking car." But he doesn't want a fancy fucking car. He is not in leaving Starbucks with his hand over his face. When he must go on the red carpet, you will not find him in a Dior tuxedo. Once, when asked whom he was wearing, Mortensen provided a name—Bambino Veira—and watched in bemusement as members of the Hollywood press dutifully wrote it down.
Here are some new photos of Viggo Mortensen and his girlfriend Ariadna Gil in Madrid, Spain yesterday.
I’d actually been wondering if Viggo was still with Ariadna – I hadn’t seen them together in a while, and during Viggo’s promotion of , he didn’t get any questions about his love life, and Ariadna was nowhere around.
He had the world by the balls, with his pick of roles—big studio stuff, Clooney kind of stuff, paycheck stuff. (He doesn't wear a watch.) "I better get you back," he says. earlier in the day, in our first ten minutes together, I mentioned that I forgot my driver's license and that some drama ensued at La Guardia Airport. " On the other side of the security rope, Mortensen couldn't be happier.