Harrison Ford is alone in a posh Manhattan hotel suite, unfettered by handlers or retainers, standing near a picture window that overlooks Central Park. He smiles warmly as a visitor enters and graciously motions to a comfortable chair. But it takes him another minute or so to divert his attention away from the riots of fall color that blaze here, there, and everywhere underneath the overcast sky outside. He is there, in the room, willing to do his bit to promote an upcoming movie. And yet he is also somewhere else, somewhere far away that you know better than to ask about, and that he would never describe.

Consider the scene as metaphor. Harrison Ford, one of the world’s most recognizable movie stars, one of the most public of public figures. Yet, like the classic movie stars of Hollywood’s pre-multimedia, pre-TV talk show heyday, he remains tantalizingly elusive as he holds something of himself in check. He will say so much, and then no more. He will let you see so much, then he will politely, but firmly, shut the door.

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