We'd say spoilers follow, but it's hard to say whether the reveal that occurs at Moon's half-hour point is in fact a twist or just a requisite plot point ushering in the film's second act. Either way, one can't describe Rockwell's performance without acknowledging his dual portrayal of Sam 1 and Sam 2, each an unaware clone of the original Sam Bell, an astronaut "harvesting" energy on the moon. When Sam 1, mere days from returning to Earth, experiences an accident and the second Sam is brought to life by his base's friendlier, Zolofted version of 2001: A Space Odyssey's HAL 9000 (voiced by Kevin Spacey), a breach in protocol brings the clones face-to-face as they settle a mutual, potentially deadly resolution.

To loyal Rockwell fans, Moon may not immediately reflect his best work; it's jittery, quirky, too conversational. But as his story uncoils — as he fights himself, challenges himself to ping-pong, and grapples with his nature folding repeatedly onto itself — the seams disappear and the accomplishment seems to defy such easy reckoning as "best" or "worst." It's simply another marvel we'll file alongside his others, even as we wonder how the hell he did it. Rockwell and Moon director Duncan Jones sat down with Defamer this afternoon to attempt an explanation.

DEFAMER: You know, we checked this out last Friday and still don't know exactly how to write about it. The twist comes in the first act, and that's just the start. How did you hammer out the concept?

ROCKWELL: Well, it explores loneliness. That's a vague enough thing. We can say that.

JONES: We can say that. It was written for Sam. We basically had a meeting and seemed to get on pretty well. Both of us are only [children], but we had sort of this fraternal thing.

SR: We geeked out on films. Sci-fi films in particular, but a lot of other films.

DJ: The stuff when we were growing up — Outland, Silent Running, Alien, just these films that had this grittiness and clunkiness. No "clunky" in story, but everything felt hard and real and blue-collar. Actually, Sam, I remember that was one of the things you talked about; wanting to play a blue-collar guy. So we went away from that meeting and it was already in my head that I wanted to write something for Sam, and it needed to be something that appealed to him but appealed to me as well.

D: But you’re a very technical actor, too. How did you get your head around having to act opposite yourself?

SR: This is the most challenging technical film I've eve done, except maybe Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. But that was just prosthetics. This was so crazy. We had this motion-control camera—

DJ: It’s not the easiest thing to concentrate.

SR: It was the loudest camera.

DJ: It’s based on a system of rails, and the movements can be replicated exactly. So you can create layers on of visuals and put them directly on top of each other and everything will be in sync. We can have multiple Sams!

SR: And we were sort of terrified in the beginning whether it would work or not, creatively or technically. And when it did work — when we saw our first shot of the two guys together? We were so ecstatic.

DJ: It was a milestone. The whole film depended on this effect working. And at an indie budget, you can’t do loads of technical tests beforehand. And make sure everything is going to work exactly the way you want it for each shot.

SR: They had three times the amount of time we had on Dead Ringers or Adaptation to do the same effect. The only thing they didn't have was an iPod, which I watched previous takes on.

DJ: We studied the Criterion version of Dead Ringers, where they explained how they did it. It was really helpful.

D: You mentioned your other influences a moment ago. Some critics have said Moon is too overtly derivative of films like 2001: A Space Odyssey or Solaris or Alien. How did you perceive your relationship to those movies when you were making this?

DJ: I can honestly say that 2001 was not a direct inspiration for this film, because our inspiration was the films that were inspired by 2001. We're second-generation 2001.

SR: It's funny. I went back and watched 2001 and the making of, and then I realized that Blade Runner and Outland and Alien had all been influenced by 2001. So everything is derivative. But it's great because you're paying homage to your forefathers.

D: When we think of sci-fi at Sundance, it usually means high-concept — Primer, Pi or Sleep Dealer last year — as opposed to production design or effects like what you have in Moon. How did you accomplish this on a low budget?

DJ: It was like military strategy. We went more retro; we went with modeled miniatures like the original Alien — a lot of things that you wouldn't do in-camera these days. We chose effects that we knew would would be most cost-effective and could reuse over the course of the film. We really wanted more time for Sam. We had to do these really technical shots that were one take.

SR: It was unbelievable. And all the more triumphant when we saw they worked. Like the ping-pong scene?

DJ: We did three or four takes of the first Sam, and got something the second Sam could rehearse to for one take. But the problem is because there's a table-tennis table there, and it moves—

SR: Remember I moved it once? And you almost had a heart attack? I think I moved the net or something.

DJ: And I disappeared with the special-effects advisor and had a conference to determine how we could split the two Sams and make sure the table was in the right position. Making effects work on the day was something we had to do a lot of.

SR: I came to them with a scene from Midnight Cowboy where Joe Buck and Ratzo Rizzo embrace each other. And I said, "Can we do this?" And the thing you have to understand is that to have the two clones touch each other is such hard work technically, it's almost impossible. But they came up with a scenario; they said, you can't do that, but you can do this. And it's amazing.

D: But what about the mindfuck of it all? Beyond the technique, you're thinking and reacting on the spot to, like, the other you.

SR: It was crazy. I was losing my mind sometimes. I think we both were. It was surreal. For instance, we'd rehearse one of the clones, and then the assistant director said, "Get into make-up." The first clone had extensive make-up that took about an hour. I'd say, "Wait a minute — I have to rehearse the other clone, otherwise I'll have no idea where I'll be." It was very strange. You've got an earwig, you're looking at a tennis ball and acting with the previous take of your own voice.

DJ: It's a one-man show, but everything is out of order. So Sam's trying to maintain the arc of the character while breaking it up and then doing another character's arc as well.

SR: It was fucking nuts. It was terrifying.

DJ: But the one thing everyone can agree on is that it looks real. I think the results speak for themselves.

DEFAMER: There's a legend that Harvey Weinstein dispatched an associate to buy the rights to The Reader, saying not to come back without them. How soon after you were familiar with the book did you know you wanted to direct its adaptation?

STEPHEN DALDRY: Just as soon as I read the book. It was not immediately after it was published; it was a couple of years later. I immediately started to phone up to see who had the rights, and it was my old friend Anthony Minghella. I asked what he wanted to do with it, and he said he wanted to do it himself — write and direct it. And so I kept badgering him over the years: "Are you going to make it, or are you not? What's happening?" I think in the end Anthony realized he wan't going to get around to it for at least a few more years, and he felt a responsibility to [author Bernhard] Schlink to get it made at some point. He eventualy relented very generously and allowed me to make it, with him and [Minghella's producing partner] Sydney Pollack.

D: 36-year-old Hanna's seduction of 15-year-old Michael has proven pretty controversial in the last week, essentially hijacking the discussion of why these two have a relationship in the first place. Do you resent that the conversation has taken that turn?

SD: It's funny, isn't it? Did you watch Mr. Schlink's interview with Oprah Winfrey when the book first came out? The first thing Oprah started talking about was the abuse. Interestingly enough in that interview, it took Mr. Schlink some time before he realized that what Oprah was talking about was not the atrocities Hanna was involved in, but rather the abuse of a 15-year-old boy. He was slightly taken aback, and later said, "This seems to be a peculiarly American question."

But the key element of that relationship is the sins of of the past — not the sins of the relationship. Does the boy love her profoundly and maybe too much because it's his first love? Yes, he probably does. Should she be involved with a 15-year-old boy? Inevitably, different cultures will have different ideas about that. And I do understand that it's a bigger moral issue in America than it might be in other societies. Having said that, I think I'd be disingenuous if I didn't say yes — there is a controlling element about a 36-year-old woman having a relationship with a 15-year-old boy. But I don't think the subject of this story is child abuse. And of course he's not a child; he's going on a 16-year-old sexual being.

D: At least it's deflected some attention from the Scott Rudin/Harvey Weinstein meltdown a couple months ago. As the filmmaker, what was your impression of that imbroglio at the time, and how do you think it impacted the final product?

SD: I don't think it did impact the final product. It's funny, isn't it? I spent two years on this. People talk about the sex scenes, and we took two days shooting those. People talk about the argument between Harvey and Scott, and that took two weeks. In the overall scheme of things, these aren't necessarily pivotal moments for me. In finishing the film, we absolutely did need more time, and Scott was absolutely fantastic — and in the end, so was Harvey — in getting a solution that we were all very happy with. So the fact that subsequently, Harvey and Scott couldn't get on, was a sadness for those two. But it came to a very happy resolution for me.

D: These guys tangled over your film The Hours, too. Did you ever see this coming, or at least have any reassurances early on that such pyrotechnics could be avoided on The Reader?

SD: Yeah, I've been through it with them, and I know how they do it; they have a good old time! I'm just being ridiculous, but yes — they have a combative relationship. There certainly wasn't a creative burden. It was more a practical point about resources and time. And neither of those two were my immediate producers. My immediate producers were Anthony Minghella and Sydney Pollack.

D: What was your reaction when Rudin took his name off the film?

SD: I thought it was absolutely the best thing for him, given the potential meltdown those two were heading into on a personal level.

D: To what extent do distractions like these — especially all the awards-race politics — rattle your faith as a filmmaker?

SD: It's only in the United States. To be frank, the discussion only happens when I get to Los Angeles. I'm sure that the infighting on movies is much more interesting here than it is anywhere else in the world. You have to take it all with a big pinch of salt. I don't think one can worry too much about it. It would, again, be disingenuous of me if I suggested that I'm not aware there's a marketing advantage to the so-called "awards season." But I think that one has to perceive it as a marketing exercise, not get caught up in the idea that it's too important. I don't come to Los Angeles very much, but what's great about it is that everybody's sort of here, and it's like a mini-film festival. Everybody's rushing from screening to screening, and you meet your friends, and there's something rather collegiate about it — not a competition. It's rather lovely.

But it's a sturdy fit for the adventuresome Rockwell, whom we cornered for a few minutes of his busy '08 (also including Frost/Nixon later this fall) and another round of Defamer's ongoing Five Questions:

DEFAMER: Look — Fox Searchlight gave us souvenir anal beads! Aren't they great?
SAM ROCKWELL: Those are great. This is a classy movie.

DEFAMER: No doubt. Victor has enough compulsions to require about a dozen different levels of research — sex addiction, choking, mother issues, etcetera. What did you prioritize here?
SAM ROCKWELL: Obviously we read the book a lot. [Director] Clark Gregg and I rehearsed a lot; he was very well prepared; he's an actor, which is great. He's sensitive to this. I went to seven or eight sex addiction meetings. I met a sex therapist; we talked a lot, and he showed me a documentary. I try to do a little bit of research on everything, some more than others. But sexual addiction is more like a food disorder in that you're really filling a void; it's different than any kind of alcohol or narcotic abuse.

DEFAMER: With that in mind, did you ever play devil's advocate with this — that sex addiction is more in the mind of the beholder?
SAM ROCKWELL: I've been working with an acting coach for a long time; he and I go to therapy, and we talk about that in our work. It's kind of like Alfie or Tom Jones, but we're psychoanalyzing this Casanova in a comedic way. A real Casanova is not a guy that looks like Brad Pitt or George Clooney; they're normal-looking guys in this very depraved world. It's not as glamorous as people think. Sex addiction can go from compulsive masturbation to prostitutes to people who've been sexually molested. It's a serious condition; it's nothing to be laughed about. But I think we respect the condition and are able to joke about it at the same time.

DEFAMER: We've been following you since In the Soup, in which you portrayed Steve Buscemi's mentally disabled neighbor. Sixteen years later, the "full retard" backlash is on from all sides. As someone who skillfully portrayed disability before it was Oscar bait, what's your take?
SAM ROCKWELL: Well, look, they're totallly missing the joke. It's about actors and awards shows. I thought Leonardo DiCaprio did it really well, but at some point you have to let the research go and intuitively daydream and just let your imagination go. It's a matter of taste really. Do you respond to Forrest Gump? I do. I respond to what Dustin Hoffman does in Rain Man. Hoffman tells a story about Midnight Cowboy where he found the limp for Ratzo Rizzo. He put his foot in like this, and he got all these letters from handicapped people afterward saying, "That's the most ridiculous limp I've ever seen — you're making fun of us." So you try to be as responsible as you can be, but it's just an artist's interpretation. [Tropic Thunder] makes fun of the actor's process and the hype that goes around it.

DEFAMER: When you take on Palahniuk, you're inevitably taking on Fight Club. Were you apprehensive about having to follow a classic?
SAM ROCKWELL: Absolutely. But the advantage we had is that this is the anti-Fight Club. This is a low-budget film. We don't have special effects or bells and whistles. This is a different kind of movie. It's an independent movie in every sense of the word. It's like Harold and Maude or The Fisher King and think of it as a different tone; Fight Club is darker. We've got a heavy subject, but we've also got anal beads.

D: So did you actually call Sir Ben Kingsley "Sir Ben" on set?

DH: I did. Absolutely. With pleasure.

D: Yet the viewer gets the sense you have the mandate to continually bust his balls, even off-camera. You also share a fairly shocking moment near the end of the film. What was your relationship like?

DH: It was all written, really. It was a wonderful relationship that seems very real and honest; you can tell the two men really loved each other and respected each other. I think that my character realized that as professors at the university, Sir Ben was probably a little smarter, a little brighter, a little more removed — but certainly not as worldly as my character, who is advising him on having an affair with a younger woman. My character has had many affairs. It's the one moment my character has an up on him. In my career I never had a part that was really seemed like a real person — the emotion, the give and take between Sir Ben and myself were very honest, I thought.

D: Your career is endlessly fascinating: You acted alongside James Dean twice; obviously there's Easy Rider; you've appeared opposite three Oscar-winners in as many films this year alone. Do you ever take stock of how many Hollywood storylines your work intersects?

DH: Yeah, sort of. But not really. I think of my career as a disappointment most of the time. After Easy Rider and The Last Movie, not directing anymore was a really devastating affair for me. And for the last 16 years, trying to direct movies and not getting financing has really been very hard on me. I really want to direct. I know that through the years I've been very fortunate to act; Blue Velvet was wonderful. Apocalypse Now. But if you still always think about directing movies, it's a chore. And I had to take a lot of bad movies at times. Out of 150 movies that I've been in, there are maybe 20 that are really good movies.

D: You've also got TV behind you and in front of you, including an cable adaptation of Crash. It's obviously a pretty polarizing film; will the series follow that same vein?

DH: Well, you'll remember that that was three different stories that sort of all come together in Los Angeles. Los Angeles is still the basis of where it's all happening, though we're shooting in Albuquerque. The writers are the same — Bobby Moresco and Paul Haggis — but the characters are all different. I play a Phil Spector-type music mogul whose always trying to look for the next big move. He's hired a 22-year-old driver from Watts who wants to be a rap star. Their relationship is totally bizarre. But it's wonderfully written and I'm having a good time.

D: But does the world really need 13 more hours of Crash?

DH: These are different characters. But why do they need it? Why does the world need entertainment at all? Do we need TV? We have it. And we do have series, and they're usually 13 in the first run. This is going to be a good 13. I love it because I've never seen such incredible language, and the things you can do on cable television now you can't even get away with in movies. We had an orgy the other day. For me it's a joy.

For documentary/reality-TV warhorses Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, though, Fleiss was among their most slippery, troubling, compelling and entertaining subjects to date — at until she fled the project (HBO docs boss Sheila Nevins eventually caught up with her for a sober sit-down threading the Nevada footage). Defamer recently checked in with the duo at World of Wonder HQ in Hollywood, where the recovery seems to be coming along well under the circumstances (and after the jump).

D: Discussing this film after an LAFF screening in June, it seemed as though you two had been through hell with it. What in particular were the struggles you faced as filmmakers?

RB: We were filming at a time when Heidi was struggling with addiction, and we're not really into making "addiction" films. It's not really our oeuvre.

FB: No film is easy to make, but this one was especially difficult to make. As a documentary filmmaker, you're kind of a sponge. You soak up whatever the person is going through, and Heidi was going through lots of nasty stuff. It wasn't a very pleasant experience.

RB: You'd sort of get contact highs and contact lows.

D: You also noted at the fest how your original idea was "up with prostitution" — that you could cover Heidi's Stud Farm as a personal and social success. How did you adapt as that idea spiraled out of control with your subject?

FB: When we set out to make the film, we were all excited planning this final sequence, which would be the opening of this brothel for women — with a great musical number and ribbon-cutting and champagne and all the rest of it. But, you know, the story you plan to tell isn't necessarily the story you end up telling. And it turned out that the brothel was the macguffin. And that's OK. It wasn't so much that it "spiraled out of control."

RB: None of our films end up being what we intended them to be. It's just that this one was really different — that combined with the process being as painful as it was. But we usually like what we shoot. That's why we do it.

D: You've acknowledged that Heidi shouldn't have had a camera in front of her after a certain point in this story. So why did she?

RB: When you watch the film she wasn't that far gone. We never had the camera rolling at times when we shouldn't have. The times we shouldn't have, we didn't, or we weren't there. Us saying that we were making the film at a time when there shouldn't have been cameras there has more to do with that period of her life.

FB: At first we were like, "Is this the best thing to be doing?" But then what we locked onto - or found accidentally, however you want to put it — was this other story. And I think what the film is is this third story: Heidi Fleiss, a self-professed business woman who has commodified love and who has no time for love herself, discovers love. She falls in love with these birds. She wasn't expecting it to happen to her, and we weren't expecting it to happen to her. And I think putting that on camera is a fit story to record.

RB: And it does illustrate a very complicated and smart and interesting and funny woman.

D: And in the end she walked out anyway, right?

FB: In the end, before we were done, she stopped cooperating with us, yes. We could have put the whole film together with what we had. It was just that it was rather bleak and sort of unrelieved. The great thing about the interview where she's eight days sober is that it provides this other perspective and brings into the mix this whole other aspect of Heidi that the addict obscures. It was good to have this other aspect; you could see her looking glamorous. I don't think addiction is ever the full story of someone.

D: So are you guys going to have fun with your next project?

FB: Fun fun fun! Our next is Pam: Girl on the Loose. That debuts on E! next month.

RB: Fun fun fun!

FB: Tori and Dean, Million Dollar Listing —

RB: It's all fun all the time from here on in.

[Photo credits: Top, HBO; directors Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato, Getty Images]

It's about as fucked-up as it sounds, but as Fiona, the femme fatale opposite Nick Stahl's paralyzed investigative radio reporter, Farmiga efficiently mines what's perhaps the final frontier of on-screen sexuality. It takes a special actress to make a corset work with leg braces, and an even more special actress to successfully play it for mystery, vulnerability and dark humor all at once. Farmiga tells us all about the journey in five easy steps after the jump.

So in Quid Pro Quo we've got able-bodies versus amputee wanna-bes versus paraplegic pretenders versus garden-variety fetishists. At what point did you read the script and say, "Yep — this one's for me"?

Probably when I heard her name was Fiona Ankany. Sometimes it's in a name before you even read anything. I saw that and said, "That's a bell that needs to be rung." But I also grew up watching quirky detective stories and oddball romances — Murder She Wrote and The Love Boat. And this was one I'd never read before. And there's got to be something about a woman in the script that turns my head. I couldn't stop staring at this one.

Did you know this subculture existed before the script came along?

I'd never heard of this before. And the related literature at the time — we filmed it right after The Departed — was hardly even there. Any time you sit down with an apotemnophiliac — actually, even that is probably an outdated term for it. Now it's like "body image integrity disorder." The only support system I could find was online. The only explainable thing is that the anguish of wanting to be paralyzed is greater than that of amputation.

Doesn't that kind of unexplainability complicate you getting to know your character?

Yes. Fiona is riddled with contradictions. She shrugs off her syndrome as much as she revels in it. She's a total overachiever and yet she can't achieve the peace of wholeness. It's a real riddle. It's not something that she has full grasp of — it's not just one thing like her guilt or childhood or attention-seeking disorder. It's all of that — a full life's equation. That ambiguity actually was a big part of playing her. Even all these testimonies I read online are totally unexplainable; it's impossible to explain compulsion.

With the exception of The Departed, you often seem to be drawn to characters with afflictions: drug addiction, depression, psychosis and now, ahem, apotemnophilia. Do you ever consider that when choosing roles?

I probably do. That's what cranes my head about characters in scripts that I read. I'm sure of it, actually. But they're not always so extreme — they may just find themselves in very extreme circumstances where they're not extreme.

Like you seducing Nick Stahl with a corset, leg braces and crutches?

That scene is really interesting because wanna-bes will tell you this has nothing to do with sexual gratification. Instead it's about the arousal of their identity as a fully-functioning human beings only if they were amputated. That scene is very contradictory to that tenet, but Fiona herself is very much an actress; she has to play dress-up to discover certain truths about herself. And anyway, listen: Once you're wearing that outfit for a crew of people, you act. Plus we had Sinead O'Connor playing in the background — "Three Babies." I'm sure that helped.

It only looks like more than our standard Five Questions after the jump, but with Herzog jumping on our dropped jaws on more than one occasion, we admit we lost count.

So, yes or no: Is Bad Lieutenant a project you're working on with Nicolas Cage?

Yes, but its not a remake. It's like, for example, you wouldn't call a new James Bond movie a remake of the previous one — although the name of the bad lieutenant is a different one, and the story is completely different. It's very interesting because Nicolas Cage really wants to work with me, and just anticipating working with an actor of his caliber is just wonderful.

Why this project, though? You could have worked on anything.

There's an interesting screenplay; it's a very, very dark story. It's great because it seems to reflect a side of the collective psyche — sometimes there are just good times for film noir. They don't come out of nowhere. There was some sort of a mysterious context with the understanding of people in that particular time. And it's going to be in New Orleans, which is a fascinating place. Part of it was the decision of the producers for tax incentives — which is totally legitimate. However, I thought to myself: "We have seen a lot of New York in movies; we have not seen New Orleans in feature films." Or very few feature films. After Katrina it's a particularly interesting set-up. The neglect and politics after the hurricane struck are something quite amazing. It has to do with public morality.

Speaking of which, the original film's director, Abel Ferrara, has vowed to fight this project, and —

Wonderful, yes! Let him fight! He thinks I'm doing a remake.

Have you talked to him?

No. I have no idea who Abel Ferrara is. But let him fight the windmills, like Don Quixote.

Have you heard his comments at all? He says he hopes "these people die in Hell."

That's beautiful!

Do you relate to that passion?

No, because it's like theater thunder. It's like being backstage in the 19th century, with the machines that make thunder. It has nothing do with with his film. But let him rave and rant; it's good music in the background.

You did a remake before with Nosferatu, but —

It was not so much a remake as an homage to Murnau. But I don't feel like doing an homage to Abel Ferrara because I don't know what he did — I've never seen a film by him. I have no idea who he is. Is he Italian? Is he French? Who is he?

Oh, come on.

Maybe I could invite him to act in a movie! Except I don't know what he looks like.

"If I answer your questions, will you stop writing nasty shit about me?" he asked. Of course we could promise nothing (especially not with a Roland Emmerich collaboration on the horizon), but for now, anyway, it's hard to deny he's on to something with War, Inc. He tells us why after the jump.

Most observers were pretty shocked to see War, Inc. score the way it did last weekend, especially after the reviews it got. What was your reaction?

I wasn't totally shocked, but I'm shocked that it went as well as it did. I've been the beneficiary of a lot of cultural snobbery, so I can't really bitch about it, you know? I don't really mind too much when it goes against me, especially when you do a movie that's different and radical. Some of the most powerful people intellectually that I know had not only seen it but endorsed it: authorities on Iraq, writers, thinkers, artists, comedians — I thought, "Hey, we've got a shot here; we don't need to sell out 6,000 screens, but I thought we could just go grass roots with it."

What's the irony in a critically-snubbed film about the Iraq War doing so well, especially after those same critics complained about commercial failures of films they backed?

Not only didn't it have critical backing, it didn't have corporate backing. But again, the critical backing we had was a different kind of critic. They write about foreign affairs and politics and culture; they don't sit around a bunch of junkets every weekend and then be snarky tastemakers about movies. Many of the press never wrote about movies before; they spent time in Iraq and had written about the issues in the movies for a long time. They said, "I don't know what the hell these critics are seeing, but this is what we see." Some people just get it.

Is that a model that more distributors and studios should take to heart for future Iraq films?

I hope so. I definitely remember thinking that if we pulled this off, it wouldn't have been done before. I was pretty excited about that. But I've also been around long enough to know the response something gets when it's either the flavor of the month or it has nothing to do with the overall life of the film — especially these kinds of edgy political satires and experimental films. We'll see how it does this weekend, but we're already going out to six new markets in two weeks.

Your previous film about the Iraq War, Grace is Gone, was a very well-received last year at Sundance. Harvey Weinstein bought it for $4 million; it made less than $100,000. What happened?

I think, to be honest, releasing it at Christmas was probably not the right time, in retrospect. I think Harvey was thinking it would get into that award season "luge," where it gets nominated for script or actor and that sort of propels the life of the movie. When that didn't happen, there wasn't a back-up plan. When Christmas came around and the debacle in Iraq was so depressing, people didn't want to be reminded of it. What's fun about War Inc. is that it's got these serious ideas but it puts it through an absurdist lens. You remember subversion can be fun; the first thing you want to reclaim is your spirit of defiance.

You're reportedly attached to star in this Roland Emmerich film 2012. You're seriously playing a limo driver in the apocalypse?

I can't divulge that information. It's very secretive stuff.