tells me about the place he grew up, near Alpine, Arkansas. It’s a tale of a Civil War soldier named William Langston. It was 1862 and William was a young man who decided to go off and fight in the war on the side of the Confederates. He was very much in love with a beautiful young girl who was desperately in love with him. She begged him not to go off to fight. She wanted more than anything in the world to marry the young man and have his baby. But William refused, fearing he might never return, leaving her a widow and their child fatherless. She pleaded with him to stay but he would not, although he did promise to someday return to her.
Well, William went away and fought in the War and survived. But he suffered a terrible injury. He was hit by a cannonball. In the testicles. Literally had his balls blown off. When he returned home, he was surprised to find the girl still unwed, still in love with him. She didn’t care that they could never have children; she wanted to marry him anyway, for she knew he was her one true love. Although she begged, again William refused, knowing how much she wanted to have a family. He told her someday she would thank him, and he left.
William became a drifter and traveled as far away as Texas. Many years later, he found his way back to Arkansas and saw this beautiful valley near Alpine and settled in it. He wrote his brother a letter that he had found the most beautiful place on earth - God’s country. And the woman he was in love with? She was there, too. She had never married and remained a maiden her whole life, refusing to marry anyone but her true love. In the end, after all those years, they finally found each other again. As testimony, Billy Bob finishes the story by telling me that’s why he named his own first son, Willie, after the child William Langston could never have. It seems clear this is a story and a character Billy Bob will someday bring to the screen.
“I have no structure as an artist. I’m very stream-of-consciousness. I’m like some moron spouting off on a street corner, hoping somebody comes and copies it down. Sometimes I stay up all night, just sitting or watching TV when everybody else has gone to bed. I feel exempt from society, not responsible for my thoughts. And that’s when the ideas feel free to just come on out. My writing partner, Tom (Epperson), is a real writer. He gets up every day at 8 a.m. in the morning and writes all day. I can sit there for a month and not write a word, then one night, at four in the morning, I’ll just write 30 pages. As a director, I don’t do shot lists or storyboards or anything. Sometimes I don’t even tell the crew we’re shooting. I like getting lost and just going off in weird directions. Sometimes you hit something. And if you don’t, you go back. Ignorance is sometimes your best friend.”
Sitting there, with his rail-thin body, western-wear shirt, grizzled face, and Buffalo Bill goatee, he looks scary. I ask if he’s at all funny, or as dark and brooding as his on-camera persona suggests. “I’m funny. I’m really funny,” he says, deadpan. “But I find darkness funny. It’s just about living to the fullest. I’m as intense as a funny person as I am as a serious person. Life isn’t black and white or pure drama and comedy like they portray it on TV. I hate that. There’s both going on together all the time. You and I, right now, are happy as shit, sitting here talking, but we’re both also sad, too, I’m sure. That’s why Sling Blade moved so many people. You can laugh and cry at it at the same time.”
Does he like Charlie Chaplin, the ultimate make ’em laugh, make ’em cry guy? “I love Charlie Chaplin. I can watch his movies and never crack a smile. I mean it’s hysterically funny, but it’s also like you’re watching Gone With The Wind. Life is poignant, and poignancy is never just one thing. It’s all those mixed-up feelings that we have. I can’t even watch Hoosiers anymore. My dad was a high school coach, and that movie makes me cry too much. And it’s the most uplifting movie there is.”
Southern boys ain’t raised on uptown cigars. They’re more into a fifth of Jim Beam, a pack of Lucky’s, and a rebuilt GTO. But Billy Bob’s in the big town now, and he’s learned to appreciate a fine smoke. “The cool thing about smoking cigars is it’s like an after-dinner mint or chocolate or brandy. It’s like splurging. A group of friends sitting around after dinner, it just feels so relaxing. And, oh man, it looks so good in the movies, doesn’t it? Bogart? Sitting around in a big chair, with the drink and the cigar? It’s just such an enjoyable-looking thing.
“I used to drink whiskey, but I quit three and half years ago. I’m not sure if someone told me to quit before I kill myself, or if I just realized it myself. But basically, I got allergic to it. It started giving me these terrible migraine headaches. My blood pressure went up. So, I just stopped. I think I have the tendency to be addictive, but I can also quit once I put my mind to it. Smoking cigarettes is the one thing I’ve really wrestled with, though.” I’ll say. He’s gone through close to half a pack since we started talking a little over an hour ago. “All I’m doing is just enjoying myself and keeping myself from being nervous.”
“I finally bought myself the car of my dreams two years ago. I bought it and had it completely restored. A lavender-and-white ’65 Pontiac GTO. A really cool car.” His eyes light up suddenly, as he’s instantly transported back in time. “The best car I ever had was a ’56 Chevy; 210 model. I also had an Olds 442 when I was growing up. I love cars. I think of my old buddies, and especially certain times we had in them.” He drifts off momentarily in his auto-reverie. He’s lost in some special moment that took place in a car, way back when in the hills of Arkansas. I know exactly what he’s thinking. I get a sick feeling thinking about mine myself. “My first time was in the Olds. It was a weird experience, man. We were both really young and neither of us knew what the hell we were doing. And she encouraged it, but when we did it, she freaked out. So I grew up thinking women like to coax you into shit, then ream your ass out for it.” Without hesitation, I assure him he’s not alone in that crazy notion.
Girl troubles aren’t much of an issue for Billy Bob these days. When he talks about his new wife/soulmate/cosmic döppelganger Angelina Jolie, his eyes glaze over and a shit-eating grin curls his lips. I’m waiting for balloon hearts to come popping out of his chest and his feet to start spinning like propellers in a Tex Avery cartoon.
“When I met her, it was like looking at another Martian. Like, wow, you’re here too? I mean, I’m crazy about this girl. Desperately in love with her. And you know what? She’s crazy about me, too. I usually think nobody’s crazy about me, but with Angie I just know it. I mean, we know each other. We really know each other. Look, we all feel alone sometimes. No matter what we’re doing, we are all alone. But with Angie, I’m, like… I don’t know… ”
Look at this poor shnook. This Oscar-winning writer. He’s so messed up over this chick he can barely get out an English sentence.
“…We were watching High Noon, which is my favorite movie, and Angie is the first person I ever watched it with, and she’d never seen it before. And we watched it! And we cried from the opening frame. And that’s not even a movie you cry at. She started crying before the movie even started. And I’m like, hey, that’s my gal right there.”
“She makes me feel like the guy I really am. I’m very emotional, eccentric, romantic, and wild, I guess. I’ve been with other women and been threatened by stuff you hear or the shit they write in the press. But with Angie I’m not threatened by anything. I don’t care what people say or what people write. I know her. I know what the real deal is.”
“Certain people love us together. A lot of people are thinking this is the greatest union in the world. ‘Hey, they hooked up. That’s great.’ That’s the way we look at it. I sure haven’t been perfect in the relationship area. But I think I’ve finally loosened up and learned a little about love. I met my match with Angie. And I’m not here to mess it up. This is my friend. I tell you this, if something ever goes wrong, it won’t be something we did. It’s because God just put the hammer down.”
Before he goes, I want to ask Billy Bob to give me a little Karl. Just a little taste, so I can tell the folks back home. But when he shakes my hand and tips his head with such Southern charm, I can’t. Then he stuffs out his last cigarette, finishes his Evian, and walks out, whistling. The guy’s in love. How could he not be? Ar-iyt-den, mmm-hmmm.