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You wouldn't think that starring in a huge blockbuster sequel to the most beloved sci-fi films of all time would wind up as a bad career move. Actually, maybe you would. After all, starring in the original most beloved sci-fi films of all time didn't exactly do wonders for the careers of...well, everyone except Harrison Ford.
And it's not working out to well for Natalie Portman either. She went from precocious (and guilt-inducingly hot) teenager to human totem pole as quickly as you can say "Princess Armadillo." She sucks in those films, she knows she sucks, she knows we know, and it's not making anyone happy.
What is making us happy, however, is seeing Portman in Closer. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that she spends one long scene writhing for Clive Owen while wearing nothing but a wig, a thong, and some kind of neo-flapper bra that snaps in the front. No, it's the pleasure of being reminded that Natalie Portman can actually, you know, act. It's true!
Really, it was amazing how quickly she went from indie wunderkind and Audrey Hepburn-in-waiting to derided lamppost and poster girl for blank-eyed acting, but then, George Lucas's dialogue tends to do that to people. (Folks we know were actually disappointed when she was cast in Closer -- this from the one-time prodigy! -- no doubt because Portman's flat Cali-girl line readings from Star Wars: Episode I - The Soporific Phantom and Star Wars: Episode II - Clan of the Clone Bears, and the trailer for Star Wars: Episode III: The - Hunt for Jar Jar's Gold were still droning in their ears.)
So, yes, she was altogether too famous for awhile -- and way too much of her fame was based on the early and not-entirely-wholesome enjoyment many creeps got from watching her thirteen-year-old self quiver in a flimsy tank top opposite Jean Reno in The Professional. So Portman gave back some fame near the end of her teens -- or, rather, invested it in long-term bonds, then used the yield to go to Harvard. But then she cashed in those bonds and starred in the most overblown, fame-bloating, credibility-crushing project imaginable.
All of which is to say: Natalie Portman, who's making your decisions? Is there a devil on one shoulder -- a pudgy, bearded, megalomaniacal devil who wants to digitally insert Hayden Christiansen into old sacrosanct movies -- and an angel on the other? One whispering Armadillo and the other whispering Mike Nichols? If so, listen to the angel. If you do, you can have your fame back. Just don't spend it all in one place, especially if that place is Naboo.
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