I sat around in a hotel room in London for about a month, locked myself away, formed a little diary and experimented with voices - it was important to try to find a somewhat iconic voice and laugh. I ended up landing more in the realm of a psychopath - someone with very little to no conscience towards his acts.

Want know how I got these scars? My father was a drinker and a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not one bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, 'why so serious?' He comes at me with the knife. 'Why so serious?!'. He sticks the blade in my mouth. 'Let's put a smile on that face!' And why so serious?

If you spend all day on horseback, and you hop off, you walk around like you still have a horse between your legs. And it affects your shoulders. They fall.

Do I really look like a guy with a plan?

I'm in control of my life, not anyone in Hollywood.

The Oscars are a really strange concept to me, that films and acting can be competing against each other. We're not running the same race. It's like we're all doing different sports in fact.

I'm sure drugs and alcohol perhaps would inspire new thoughts, but it's certainly not something that I use as a tool or a mechanism to create.