[I am proud to announce that Matthew Eng, who we've heard from twice as a guest columnist, is now an official member of Team Experience. Here he is on a soon-to-be three-time Oscar nominee! -Editor]
By now, Jennifer Lawrence is well on her way to scoring another Oscar nomination for her supporting performance as the unstable, self-dramatizing Reel Housewife of Long Island Rosalyn Rosenfeld in David O. Russell's American Hustle. Despite initially wary expectations regarding role size, divisive reactions towards both film and performance, and a slowly-surging sense of fatigue regarding America's Sarcastic Sweetheart, Lawrence has already been embraced by two major critics groups (NYFCC and NSFC), was the only actor in her prized ensemble to gain individual recognition from SAG, and, depending on how AMPAS feels about Oprah, June Squibb, and Lupita Nyong'o, might very well be on her way to copping yet another golden boy.
I like Lawrence a great deal, have absolutely no qualms about the Silver Linings victory, and think she's often quite good in Hustle. I laughed heartily watching her blame game her way out of that “science oven” debacle and friskily shove her “sweet and sour” nails in Jeremy Renner’s face. She's lovely in that warm, teary-eyed bayside confessional during her lunch date with Jack Huston. And I contemplated dropping out of college and devoting the rest of my life (or, you know, at least a semester or two) to watching her stick it to Amy Adams in that ferocious bathroom kiss-off/actress throwdown.
And yet, if there is any one viewer who can honestly say that they believed - even for a second - that Jennifer Lawrence was ever really that woman, unhappily married for years to that man, counting the days in that house, and nearly burning down that kitchen, can he/she please stand up? [more...]