When Liev Schreiber pulls up to a clam bar near the beach town of
Montauk, New York, a surfboard strapped to the top of his black hybrid
SUV, he bears little resemblance to the slightly nebbishy veteran of
independent film and theater that Manhattanites are used to seeing
cruising around Astor Place on his bicycle or standing in line for lox
at Russ & Daughters on the Lower East Side. Ambling up to one of the
restaurant’s outdoor tables, a gold shark’s tooth pendant hanging from
his neck, “the finest American theater actor of his generation” (as
The
New York Times has called him) is bronzed and brawny, like a man who
spends more time in the gym than pacing the stage as Hamlet...
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