There is an interesting article about vincent cassel, where he sobs during an interview, very intense writing. i am gonna copy it,but only parts of it, since you have to pay for the article. so i don't know about the copy rights.....
i am gonna post the end of the article later on...
Stefanie Marsh
Published at 5:57PM, April 21 2012Women want to be with him, men want to be him – so why is Vincent Cassel crying? By Stefanie Marsh
What one would perhaps normally do if, provoked by a terrible childhood memory, the person in front of you begins suddenly to weep, is to extend a comforting arm. But this is an interview and the correct etiquette, as far as my own behaviour is concerned, is unclear. Outside the door, film industry personnel are lurking. I am worried that, should they enter at this delicate juncture, they will assume that I have been the cause of the tears that Vincent Cassel is now shedding so copiously into a cloth napkin.
We are supposed to be talking about cinema. But the conversation has strayed, perhaps catastrophically, in the direction of his childhood, and I had hoped, when I first caught sight of them, that I’d hallucinated the suddenly water-logged eyes. I’d hoped, further, that the first tear, when it came, had been allowed to meander down those bony features for effect (minutes earlier, he had told me that the image he projects of himself to the public is a “scam”). But now the eyes are shot with red. The cheeks are wet. The breath is a battery of stuttered gasps and wheezes. My immediate reaction is to panic. “Would you like a glass of water,” I say, aghast, as my favourite actor in the world begins, properly, to sob.
Well, not exclusively sob, because – in between deep intakes of breath – he is speaking, or trying to speak. “You know… I’m sorry. Actually, I am not sorry! I’m not sorry because it’s part of the job really. This is – aaaagh,” he groans. “This is actually… very interesting.” He smiles in that brave way people do just before they’re about to start crying again. “I’m going to pour you a glass of water,” I say, idiotically. He is an actor, I remind myself, as he stares up at the ceiling to keep in the tears. Is he acting now?
“Aaaaaagh,” moans Vincent Cassel. “Wooooooh. Feels really good, actually.” And then, after a pause, “Would you like some water, too?” He pours me a glass. “You didn’t expect that one, ah?” he chuckles. “Non!” he exclaims. “You have to understand something. I don’t care really. I don’t care. This is what I do. I play with these kinds of things. So you can kill somebody in a movie and then you can cry about things in your childhood. Which is fine. But, yes. The reason I am emotional about this – whoooh [the sound of a gigantic exhalation] – is because…” His voice is travelling up the octaves now at dangerous pace, then cracks: “It’s true.”
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