My thesis on Armie Hammer. He was born into wealth and incredible privilege. He was brought up in a conservative, “religious” household. Physically, he is what western culture deems to be the epitome of masculinity: tall (omg, so tall!), handsome, blond, blue-eye, fit. He’s bright, charismatic and talented. These are ingredients that all too often end up making an obnoxious douche-bag.
But what does Armie Hammer do with all his attributes: he shows up to a talk show dressed like a baked potato an astronaut and proceeds to be funny, entertaining, charming and engaging. Never mind that he’s currently going through a divorce, hasn’t seen his kids in months, recently lost a loved one and is coping with the stress of pandemic/quarantine like everyone else.
Does he complain? Does he use the time to talk about himself and go on a woe-is-me trip? Does he focus solely on talking about himself and his work? Nope. Nope. And nope.
Instead, he talks about his friend’s project, tells stories about a mad “desert creature” he met, hypes up his co-star (Lily James), shows deference to a legend in the industry (Kenneth Branagh); and its all done with self-effacing humor while dressed like a baked potato an astronaut in - oh yes - sandals with painted toe nails.
Conclusion: Armie Hammer is a cinnamon bun that must be protected at all costs and we should be thankful to whatever force in the universe that made him the way he is, because it could have gone so terribly wrong but it didn’t!
tangentwithtanner
areudirty
2087
