She has the “soul of a comedian.”
And therein lies the biggest surprise about Jennifer Lawrence: She has the soul of a comedian and can riff on just about anything that crosses her path. She did a 20-minute monologue about sponges: “I wake up earlier in the morning when I have new sponges. That counter doesn’t even see it coming.” She segued into her incomprension at people who don’t share her “faith in sponges” and then finally landed on her relationship with ex-boyfriend Nicholas Hoult, with whom she’s still very close (they’re shooting X-Men: Days of Future Past together). “He would never wring them out. We were in the kitchen once, and I picked up the sponge, and it was soapy and wet, and I was like, ‘See?’ These are the kinds of things that make me think we are never going to work.”
She has some pretty good points about the paparazzi.
“If I were just your average 23-year-old girl,” she says, “and I called the police to say that there were strange men sleeping on my lawn and following me to Starbucks, they would leap into action. But because I am a famous person, well, sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing we can do. It makes no sense.” What really gets to her is when people say, “You have to make peace with it.” “I am just not OK with it,” she says. “It’s as simple as that. I am just a normal girl and a human being, and I haven’t been in this long enough to feel like this is my new normal. I’m not going to find peace with it.”
She constantly makes fun of the person assigned to do a massively important, internationally read cover story on her.
After four hours at the Odeon, we gather our things (“Don’t forget your nineties car phone,” she says) and then head outside. We pile into the SUV and immediately get caught in a bumper-to-bumper snarl (“There’s too much traffic,” she says to the driver. “You’re fired”). We are heading back to the Greenwich Hotel (owned by Lawrence’s pal De Niro, whom she bumped into last night), where she is staying for the weekend, in a huge suite on the sixth floor. We stand at the big windows as a summer thunderstorm rolls through and drenches all the hapless people on the street below. “Right now I’m just a big fan of windows,” she says. “I stand at my window at my hotel in Montreal. Like it will be hours. It’s the only time I can look at big groups of people, and they’re not looking at me.”
She stays endearingly awkward, of course.
There were many moments when she was so excited to share the seven things that just popped into her head that it would render her breathless and momentarily incomprehensible. As Jodie Foster says about directing her, “It’s hard for her to be superficial, to be girly and silly and unaware. And so my direction was often stupid things, like ‘Move your hands a lot’ or ‘Giggle,’ just trying to loosen her up so she wasn’t as aware of her own significance.”
And don't expect her to be a mother anytime soon.
“I think all mothers are a nightmare—I don’t think you can have children and not lose your goddamn mind.”
Go read the article by visiting Vogue.com for the first time in your life. (You can private browse on Chrome if need be.) It's pretty fascinating.