The guy in the background is so great here — it’s as if he feels like he has to avert his eyes or else Helena will encase his mother in carbonite and hang her on his wall.
I also wonder if Helena — a.k.a. She Who Likes To Dress As Her Movie Roles — realizes that she isn’t actually in Black Swan, and thus, she didn’t need to come clad as whatever painful vision Natalie Portman sees in her head at night when she’s trying to fall asleep but she’s hungry and exhausted and headachy and horny and stabby and brittle and desperate and aching and a little more horny and evil and maybe a tiny bit in the mood to listen to some Jim Morrison. Then again, HBC seemed confused by a lot of things all night — every time the camera cut to her, she looked perplexed, or vexed, or irritated (usually during somebody’s acceptance speech, and not just during one of the times when Ricky Gervais seemed hell-bent on seeing just how far he could push it before nobody ever paid him for anything ever again; and did it seem to anyone else like he wrote his material like two months ago and then just let it rot on a shelf?) — so maybe she’s just sort of baffled a lot these days.
One might think the mismatched shoes and crazy hair confirm some sort of general befuddlement, but I think there’s a perfectly rational explanation, and in a week we’ll all find out that in December she named her feet “Merry” and “Christmas,” and that her hair is made of unrolled cassette tapes. And we’ll all say, “Oh, of COURSE,” because it’s the holidays at the Bonham-Carter-Burtons, and did you really want to find out they sit around drinking hot cocoa and singing “Silent Night”? No.