This is Vogue’s 125th year, so for the Mother of (Magazine) Dragons — its September issue — Anna summoned four people to do different Jennifer Lawrence covers. Annie Leibovitz got the main one, beacause I guess she has incriminating information on someone, and the others are from Inez and Vinoodh, Bruce Weber, and an artist named John Currin. The story pays a lot of lip service to the movie on which Jennifer met Darren Aronofsky, Mother! I noted this on Twitter the other day of the denim brand Mother, and it’s true here, too: Every time I see that written, I think of a) Mike Pence, and then b) Ruprecht from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Then I fall into a GIFhole.
Anyway: The story slots neatly into the “Celebrities Who Believe They’re Super Normal But Don’t Feel Like They Can Say That Without You Rolling Your Eyes” category of profiles, as well as the “We Strenuously Tried To Come Up With An Inorganic Outing Just In Case We Needed A Hook” bin — in this case, a sensory deprivation chamber, which is clearly a terrible idea because that isolates you and thus isn’t something you can experience with your interviewer, and the milquetoast details about it bear that out. Even the attempt to link it to her first viewing of Mother!, claiming isolating her in a tank being a lousy thing to do after experiencing that film, doesn’t really yield anything. All these hoops people jump through for celebrity profiles… it really starts to feel like the magazines either don’t trust their people, or (and this is more likely) don’t trust the PR-groomed subjects, so they beef them up with activities that end up feeling so extra. Theoretically a celeb on your cover should be interesting enough on their own merits, and if not, why are they there at all? Allison Davis made something charming and eminently readable out of Aubrey Plaza’s people suggesting they meet for tennis — a game neither of them actually plays — but it all underscores that both subject and interviewer should be able to earn the profile by being capable of just talking, outside the constraints of a forced itinerary.
This made me laugh though:
“I like how clear Jen is,” says Lawrence’s friend Emma Stone, who, as it turns out, was here at the house the night before. “She makes her opinions very, very clear to me, all the time—whether I ask for it or not.” Stone laughs. “I appreciate that quality. She’s just fun, a shot of light.”
They’re obviously actual friends, but that sentence is amusing. I picture them having all kinds of conversations in which Jennifer Lawrence is offering all kinds of unsolicited and emphatic and bossy (I mean that as a compliment) advice on scrips and Emma’s love life, while Emma patiently nods and thinks, “I love you and I am only going to listen to about two-thirds of this.” And I feel like Jennifer Lawrence would find it just as funny as I do for the same reasons.