Oh, Amy Adams. Amy Adams.
I have never really gotten Amy Adams. One day last week – two weeks ago? – I got a letter from someone who was I guess reading back through the archives, and was very angry with how mean I had been to Amy Adams. Months ago.
I don’t think I’m that mean but I do think she’s just…she’s hard to take.
On Friday, I wrote to Lainey:
“She [Adams] makes it all look like work.”
“She makes WHAT look like work?”
“Everything. Her acting looks like work. Her clothes look like work. She never looks like she’s just having a great time, and I’ve decided that’s something I need in my actresses.”
“Fine. You have to write about her on Sunday, then.”
(Behold, our sophisticated editorial process)
I just realize that I need these fabulously rich and successful people either to look like they’re having a great time, or at least that they’re over the whole thing but into being a chill person. Like, compare Amy Adams to Julianne Moore last night, and tell me which one feels sincere and honest. Nothing so earnest and anxious and “oh I am just so unprepared!” Also might want to check her pronunciation of ‘inherent’. Sorry, I just don’t get it. I need Jacek to explain it to me. (Lainey: Jacek is in love with Amy Adams …until last night.)
But I felt vindication-slash-a bit of empathy because I think I’m not the only one who feels this way. During the cutaways in Adams’ speech, there were some polite smiles, and then, from people on the far sides of the table, some side eye and then some more side eye. Not evil, just like “here we go with this one”. I think I’m not the only one who thinks Amy Adams is the Taylor Swift of-four-years-ago of the movie business.
Naming her as my worst dressed is almost incidental, but it is accurate. Sarah was invoking the prom last night and powder blue is certainly it.