As previous posts have indicated, The Social Network uprooted my life mancandy-wise (and don’t worry, we’ll be getting around to my very favorite little Jewfroed life-ruiner one of these Mondays). But the most surprising new celebrity crush that arose from my many, many viewings of this film was the lovely and talented Armie Hammer, who unfortunately is not really twins.
Armie—short for “Armand,” which suits him a lot better, in my opinion, because he looks like the guy on the cover of a historical romance novel—does not fit my normal celeb crush profile. As my girls here at the Suite know, my tastes do not normally run to the heavily muscled or the traditionally handsome; in fact, classical square-jawed golden-boy good looks tend to bore me. I was done with Sam Worthington before I even knew how bad his acting was. (And seriously, can we stop casting him as an American yet? He’s clearly been tired of covering his Aussie accent since like halfway through Avatar.)
So instead of longing for typical leading men, I tend to get hung up on fey, skinny hipsters whose jeans are five sizes smaller than mine… which is a real logistics issue that I’m not going to worry about because my love life is 100% imaginary.
Anyway. Armie is a 6’5” honest-to-god Disney prince of a human being, and resisting him is futile. Maybe it’s his gentle blue eyes, which appear incapable of irony or deception. Maybe it’s the way he lets his face go all crinkly when he smiles, or that his voice is so deep and pure that it sounds like molasses running off a solid-gold soup ladle.
But what’s really unfair about Armie is that he’s a beautiful Disney prince on the inside, too. He’s genuinely funny, warm, and charming in every interview, he’s great to his costars, and he’s a hard worker—I mean my God, do you even know all the technical bullshit that this kid had to go through to shoot those Winklevoss scenes?
In addition, Armie is so irresistible that he managed to occasionally come between the greatest bromance of our era.
And yeah, maybe J. Edgar isn’t doing so hot with the critics (it’s a Communist conspiracy, probably). But Armie’s performance as Hoover’s almost-boyfriend Clyde Tolson is just beautiful—gentle, emotional, and raw enough at times to pull a few embarrassingly-audible sobs from me in the theater. If he doesn’t get an Oscar nod for this, I’m going to drive to LA and throw a rock through Tom Sherak’s windshield.
On top of that, in an interview with New York Magazine, Armie gives one of my favorite responses ever to the annoying, overplayed, vaguely homophobic question of OMG WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO HAVE TO KISS A BOY IN THIS MOVIE?
“It just felt like kissing,” says Hammer. “I also had to shoot a machine gun in the movie, but nobody asks about that.”
YES. A BILLION POINTS TO ARMIE HAMMER. Even though there aren’t really two of him, he’s still too much for me. And not even that sure-to-be excruciating Mirror, Mirror movie can take away my love for him. Such is the power of his undeniable awesomeness.
Armie Hammer, fairy-tale prince of Hollywood. He can do no wrong. EffThatGuy.