The Lakers series is still in production the day we met. As we begin our walk, Brody-with mountain boots, a Yankees cap and dark aviator glasses-explains that something a little strange is happening with Riley's role. 3 Brody didn't know much about the coach before preparing for the character, but he quickly learned that Riley's story was more complex than I thought. Before Riley became a recognized coach in the Hall of fame, he had been a college basketball star and then a substitute player on a Lakers team that won the title. After a nine-year career, Riley retired at the age of 30 and, as Brody says, "found himself in Los Angeles trying to find out what his place was in the world of sport and not being able to accept early retirement". Riley ended up in charge of what would become the flagship team of the 1980s, but only after the then Lakers coach suffered a terrible bicycle accident and the assistant coach who replaced him was fired. "one man's misfortune created an opportunity for another," Brody explains. McKay, the director, and Max Borenstein, the writer of the series, needed an actor that could reflect the coach's duality of spirit. Brody seemed perfect, "because it's a unique blend of elegant trust and vulnerability," McKay tells me in an email. "and that's a perfect description of Riley, although Riley obviously doesn't show vulnerability or feel as comfortable with her as Adrien, but you can see clearly that she's there."

That's the Riley he's been thinking about: not the boastful icon in Armani suit, but a young man worried that his best years have been left behind, bewildered by the circumstances that have led him to occupy his position in life.

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It's funny, Brody says, how much Riley's story looks like yours. Living with that mirror in front of him over the last few months has made him think of the strange storm that broke out on his life and career after winning the Oscar, in 2003, for his work in the pianist. At the time, Brody had to fight the same kind of contradiction that Riley faced when he was handed over the reins of the Lakers: he was apparently at the top of the world and yet he felt unable to control the trajectory of a race that had reached the highest point too early. In Brody's case, the avalanche of fame and work that followed the film provided him with some security, but experience also left him depressed and with a food disorder, and permanently rearranged expectations, both industry and his, about the direction of his career and the meaning of success.

While explaining all this, stopping in winding ramblings about the nature of luck and the whims of independent film production, a hiker with tanned skin and a marked New York accent stops us in the middle of the road. He recognizes the actor and presents himself as Jack. He tells us that he knew Gerald Gordon, an interpretation teacher Brody gave some lessons with when he first moved to Los Angeles. Jack explains that Gordon had left him instructions to send his best wishes to Adrien Brody in case one day he found him. What would sound like a madman's delusion if it weren't for exactly what just happened. Jack seems as confused as we are. Brody offers his thanks and elegantly ends the conversation.