Other than the surprise transparency in the back, I did appreciate Diane Kruger's last homage to Grace Kelly. This one, however, leaves me cold:
For one thing, it's SO minimalist that it's desperately plain. She looks like she's on her way to her unassuming third wedding, possibly taking place at City Hall in front of a justice of the peace, with no witnesses except the doorman at her apartment building and a long-lost cousin -- and a honeymoon that consists of dinner at the local Italian joint and a really good book. Also, what's with the lumpy chestal region? If I didn't know better, I'd think she was either strapping them down with an Ace bandage or providing an example to girls everywhere of how NOT to stuff your bra with cotton.
My bigger objection, though, is Diane's apparently raging case of stumpophrenia. Grace Kelly at least managed to look like something of a gazelle in just about everything -- fluid, floaty, willowy even if she wasn't. By contrast, Diane Kruger merely looks like she might be living a life without knees. Kind of like a Peanuts or South Park character, but without the benefit of being fake and having someone who can draw you onto a chair, or whose simple pen-stroke can make you bop along the street without needing to bend your leg. It's tragic. If I didn't know she had killer gams buried under there, I'd be begging you to give generously so this poor soul could realize her dream of knee implants. Maybe Intern George, Ph.D., should counsel her through the tough times. I can see it now: Diane would say, "George, I dream of being able to do Tae Bo!", and he'd be all, "Maybe your destiny is to be a conqueror of the HEART!", and she'd reply, "George, you're so wise!", and he'd quip witlessly, "You wouldn't say that if you saw my roundhouse kick!" And we'd be left wondering why everyone only speaks in exclamation points, and why humor seems to have gone the way of her knees.
For one thing, it's SO minimalist that it's desperately plain. She looks like she's on her way to her unassuming third wedding, possibly taking place at City Hall in front of a justice of the peace, with no witnesses except the doorman at her apartment building and a long-lost cousin -- and a honeymoon that consists of dinner at the local Italian joint and a really good book. Also, what's with the lumpy chestal region? If I didn't know better, I'd think she was either strapping them down with an Ace bandage or providing an example to girls everywhere of how NOT to stuff your bra with cotton.
My bigger objection, though, is Diane's apparently raging case of stumpophrenia. Grace Kelly at least managed to look like something of a gazelle in just about everything -- fluid, floaty, willowy even if she wasn't. By contrast, Diane Kruger merely looks like she might be living a life without knees. Kind of like a Peanuts or South Park character, but without the benefit of being fake and having someone who can draw you onto a chair, or whose simple pen-stroke can make you bop along the street without needing to bend your leg. It's tragic. If I didn't know she had killer gams buried under there, I'd be begging you to give generously so this poor soul could realize her dream of knee implants. Maybe Intern George, Ph.D., should counsel her through the tough times. I can see it now: Diane would say, "George, I dream of being able to do Tae Bo!", and he'd be all, "Maybe your destiny is to be a conqueror of the HEART!", and she'd reply, "George, you're so wise!", and he'd quip witlessly, "You wouldn't say that if you saw my roundhouse kick!" And we'd be left wondering why everyone only speaks in exclamation points, and why humor seems to have gone the way of her knees.
