You are the walking embodiment of flawlessness. Gay men 'round the globe strive to achieve your sense of spiritual glamour, your confidence, your strength and charisma. Not since the Hepburn/Bacall era has Hollywood been graced with such power in the female form.
So that's why I am concerned, my beloved Blanchett, about a few of the choices you've made in your films. I just saw "Hanna," and although I generally enjoyed it, I have to say...your performance often caused laughter among the audience. And I'm sure you're aware "Hanna," about a genetically-engineered girl who is a ruthless killing machine, is NOT a comedy.
Watching you in this film was rough. Every line you said was over-acted, like you were a character from that 90's soap opera "Passions." You mugged for the camera, you had odd facial twitches of no purpose, you said your lines in ways that made no sense. If Simon Cowell were judging your performance, he would've rolled his eyes and told you to stop acting forever. And let me ask something: were you supposed to speak with an American Southern accent? Can you not do accents? Actually, I can answer that for you. No, you can't do accents. Or you can do about 10 of them, yet you utilize all of them when saying one line. You were just really, really...bad.
This isn't your first snafu, sadly. In "Notes on a Scandal," with the also-glorious Dame Judy Dench, you played a scene towards the end of the movie where you melted down in a fit of rage, after you randomly applied a thick glob of eyeliner. After a lovely, restrained portrayal throughout the film, you threw this fit that seemed like something you learned in an acting school class, like "This is my angry face!" If I may present the evidence (watch to the final moments, which happen outside--and do take note of the aforementioned eyeliner):
...this raised some questions about your emotional range, but I chose to remember your past work, and I let it go.
You are a great actress. "Elizabeth"? I can't even handle thinking about you in that movie, I get too excited. I want you to be my monarch so you can rule me. "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"? When you make me not-look at Brat Pitt, you're doing something right. You are a vision in that movie. But Faye Dunaway won an Oscar for "Network"--and was flawless in that film--before she ruined her career with "Mommie Dearest." I'm not saying you're there yet, but...after watching "Hanna," I can see you reaching for that wire hangar, ready to beat Christina with it. And I'm writing this to you because I want to take that wire hangar out of your hand, and help you save yourself.
I know you have bills to pay, and those Hollywood paychecks are nice. But watching you vamp your way through "Hanna" was painful. Granted, the movie had lots of other problems--for instance, it is a generally-ridiculous movie about a murderous blond girl--but I have lots of patience for ridiculousness. I have seen "Showgirls" so many times, I have my Facebook profile set to say I am engaged to Cristal Connors. So if even I can't handle it, there is something awry. Watching you in "Hanna" wasn't fun. The other actors on-screen with you still managed to walk away with some integrity; the girl who played the title character "Hanna" was actually really good. How did that little girl out-act you? I don't understand what happened here.
I feel like this is a case of "The Emperor's New Clothes," and people are scared to say anything because they don't want to ridicule Cate Blanchett. But let me remind you, dear, that you are Cate Blanchett. So please start acting like her again.
And (SPOILER ALERT!) if you are offered a chance to come back to life in "Hanna II," politely decline. That character needs to stay dead. You can't bring back to life the piece of me that died watching you.
First worked full day at the day job. Then worked another full day at the night job. Came home, held breath in the hallway due to the massive amounts of marijuana smoke coming from my trashy neighbors, and sat down in the quiet.
I have lost another 8 pounds, which I was excited to lose, but now the wrinkles are showing in my face. Taking this 2nd job has made me old, within just a few months. The wear-and-tear mixed with the sad imminence of my personal aging process is written under my eyes and on my cheeks. When I was a little pudgy, the fat filled out the wrinkles. My goal was to keep gaining weight forever. When I reached 80 years old, I would be 400 pounds and I would look fabulous.
My neighbors are idiots. I need to move. They aren't particularly bothersome, but their mental inferiority is maddening to experience each day. The guy who lived there before was a chef, he was the best...the building smelled like basil and garlic and love.
So I'm immobile. At the end of the night, I was standing in the middle of the floor, my coworkers bustling around me placing forks and glasses in their proper places. And I was just standing there, holding on to the pepper mill like it was a teddy bear. It gave me comfort. And it garnered me some strange looks.
Am I the only person confused by Rhianna's decision to record a song about S&M, where the lyrics include bon mots such as "Sticks and stones may break my bones/but chains and whips excite me"?