Jason Momoa is dressed in a sharp black suit with his hair slicked back. With his size and stature, he’s clearly someone you don’t want to fuck with. He’s walking towards the back of a local Crescent City (New Orleans) bar, and after walking down a short, narrow hallway, he gets to an open door. As he turns to enter the room, he quickly glances around to take in the surroundings. Sitting at a table in a small room are four men playing cards, with another reading the local paper. The man reading the paper appears to be the one in charge. As Momoa moves closer to the table, he says to the man reading the paper, “Open the safe.” The man responds, “What did you say?” Momoa responds, “Open the safe.” Surprised by Momoa’s statement, the man says, “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Then, almost a millisecond later, Momoa responds, but not with words but with bullets. Boom. Boom. Boom. And just like that, Momoa has shot three of the people in the head. “I said open the safe.” A moment later, Boom! He’s shot the final card player at the table in the head. “Please, open the safe.” Clearly taken aback by the brutal killings, the final man left alive stands up, and leads Momoa towards the safe, opens it and takes a step back. As Momoa reaches in to grab a thin tan file, we hear “Boom!” He’s shot the boss in the head.
Let me back up a second. It’s August 23, 2011, and I just left New Orleans. I’m sitting on a plane flying back to Los Angeles because I spent yesterday on the set of director Walter Hill’s Bullet to the Head. For more on the visit, hit the jump.