Wellington, New Zealand — “Peter wants this,” scribbled the young woman next to me at a Courtenay Place cafe. I figured she had to be in pictures. Wearing a tailored black suit and the requisite sexy-librarian glasses, she was jotting comments in the margins of some latte-stained production notes. Peter, I had to assume, was Peter Jackson, the white-hot and famously disheveled Wellington director who practically wore out the carpet on Oscar night last February as he repeatedly made his way to the stage to accept a double armful of statuettes for “Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.” [More]

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