He led me to a switchback trail cut into a hillside, which we climbed to a vista point. Rogen wore a beard, chinos, a cardigan from the Japanese brand Needles and Birkenstocks with marled socks - laid-back Canyon chic. “Hellooo!” He met me at the bottom of his driveway, which is long and steep enough that he keeps a golf cart up top “for schlepping big things up the driveway that are too heavy to walk,” he said, adding, as if bashful about coming off like the kind of guy who owns a dedicated driveway golf cart, “It doesn’t get a ton of use.” I pulled up at the front gate on a recent afternoon, and Rogen’s voice rumbled through the intercom. Seth Rogen’s home sits on several wooded acres in the hills above Los Angeles, under a canopy of live oak and eucalyptus trees strung with outdoor pendants that light up around dusk, when the frogs on the grounds start croaking.
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