Jessica Chastain Knocks Me Out

There’s a reason they call the folks who make movies “the beautiful people.” We love to look at them, stare at them, gawk at them, perfectly lit and made up to appear even more alluring, gazing down from the big screen.

But there have been occasions when I’ve met some of these stars
and realized that they’re actually not very photogenic. That they’re even more gorgeous in person than they are on the screen.

It hasn’t happened to me very often. The first time was actually quite unnerving. I was in New York, sitting in a small hotel room with a few other journalists, interviewing the cast members of “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” one at a time. I didn’t see Gwyneth Paltrow walk in; I felt her
presence. She had what’s known in the business as “it.” There was a sort of aura around her, a force field that preceded her. When I turned toward it and first saw her, she was, for lack of a better term, glowing. I was so buzzed by her, it took about two minutes for me to calm down. Very weird feeling.

A few years later, I was sitting in a couch-filled, first floor room at the Four Seasons in Los Angeles, hanging out between interviews. There was some commotion just outside, where I could see a couple of photographers running around. A glass door opened, and an angel floated in. She was about 5’8”, long blonde hair, wearing something like a Victorian-era wedding gown. I was all alone in the room. She walked by me, just a few feet away, and I again felt that aura, this time accompanied by an absolutely dazzling smile, aimed right at me. In fact, that smile went right through me, made my knees go weak. I had no idea who this woman was, but I would have followed her anywhere, my feet never touching the ground.

Turned out it was an unrecognizable Toni Collette (currently starring in “United States of Tara”), who had always appeared kind of drab in movies ranging from “The Sixth Sense” to “Little Miss Sunshine.” In person, she really shone.

It happened again last week, again at the Four Seasons. I had already seen newcomer Jessica Chastain as the downtrodden mom in “The Tree of Life,” the sort of comic relief in “The Help” and, just the night before, as the kick-ass Mossad agent in the upcoming thriller “The Debt.” Now, here she was, in one of those small hotel rooms, in very close proximity – her chair was next to mine. That aura thing kicked in, as did the effect of her stunning white dress that looked suspiciously like a very fancy slip, and a radiant smile that made her absolutely luminous. I don’t know exactly what happened next, but the other five people in the room didn’t exist anymore, a blue light flashed and enveloped me (yes, it was totally imagined), and I didn’t hear a word she said for at least five minutes. Of course, I still had to write a story about her. It’s a good thing my tape recorder was running.

For the record, I’ve spoken with some female journalists who have reported similar results when meeting Jude Law and George Clooney.

Ed Symkus is a longtime West Roxbury resident and a freelance writer who covers the film industry.