Thoughts of retirement pop up “every day,” he says. But nothing’s imminent. “I think while I’ve got the opportunity and the desire and the creative spark to do the things that I can do right now, I should do them,” Depp says, in his rather mesmerizing, if mumbly, tobacco-basted baritone. “And then, at a certain point, just take it down to the bare minimum and concentrate on, I guess, living life. Really living life. And going somewhere where you don’t have to be on the run, or sneak in through the kitchen or the underground labyrinth of the hotel. At a certain point, when you get old enough or get a few brain cells back, you realize that, on some level, you lived a life of a fugitive.”
Then again, getting older opens up some interesting roles – look at his late drinking buddy Marlon Brando. And he isn’t good at laying back. “I don’t know if I can relax,” he says. “Relax, I can’t do. My brain, on idle, is a bad thing. I just get weird. I mean, not weird. I get, I get antsy.” He stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray set on a wooden coffee table with a roulette wheel built into its top.
When Depp lets his mind go, it can go like this: “There’s a great part of me that has deep concerns for, let’s say, the world, as everyone does. If you’re, in any way, sensitive to that stuff and you just keep taking in, taking in, taking in, you’ll drive yourself fucking nuts. You start getting into things, like – people are fighting because each one says their god is better than the other. And zillions of fucking people die. Savagely. Horribly. Innocent people. And, I mean, there’s no way – you can’t take that in as a machine and then spit it out as data that makes sense. You can’t do it. So you’ve got – you’ve got to protect – I don’t know. Protect yourself in a way, like . . .”
Read The Full Interview ›