It really turns me on to see a big-name actress in such an inconsequential little arm-candy role. Painted up in a full-body spray tan she'd never choose for herself, dolled up in makeup she had no say on, wearing lingerie that very powerful men spent hours picking out for her; no character-development, no motivation, barely any dialogue.
This was the same year Emily won a Golden Globe for best supporting actress, but all of her conversations with Nichols and Hanks for this movie will have been about which lingerie would best support her own award-winning golden globes, and which panties would give audiences the best impression of her wonderful ass and pristine pussy.
She stood silently stock-still for countless costume tests while cold eyes appraised her body and judged her sex appeal in combination after combination of bras and panties and made all the important decisions without her input.
She'll have hated that they put her in those beautiful, impractical heels, solely to accentuate her already amazing ass, and she'll have hated that she had to lay there prone for take after take, totally mute and obedient, while Hanks stroked her contractually-obliged gym-toned tummy as the director repeatedly told her to arch her back further, to better emphasize her perky tits and long legs for the camera, as Hanks took care of the only real acting required for the scene.
Emily had already had her breakout role in The Devil Wears Prada just the previous year, in a real, meaty role that employed her considerable acting talents to full and rewarding effect, but she still found herself required to work out ceaselessly and starve herself for weeks and weeks, while regularly reporting her weight-loss and new measurements to an army of expectant and demanding producers and costumers.
All for this tiny, thankless role that, while probably a dream job for a cheerleader or a Playboy model, did nothing for Emily's career except momentarily reduce her to a compliant little plaything to excite the rich old men who paid handsomely for her company that day.
A drama based on a Texas congressman Charlie Wilson's covert dealing in Afghanistan, where his efforts to assist rebels in their war with the Soviets have some unforeseen and long-reaching effects.
It really turns me on to see a big-name actress in such an inconsequential little arm-candy role. Painted up in a full-body spray tan she'd never choose for herself, dolled up in makeup she had no say on, wearing lingerie that very powerful men spent hours picking out for her; no character-development, no motivation, barely any dialogue. This was the same year Emily won a Golden Globe for best supporting actress, but all of her conversations with Nichols and Hanks for this movie will have been about which lingerie would best support her own award-winning golden globes, and which panties would give audiences the best impression of her wonderful ass and pristine pussy. She stood silently stock-still for countless costume tests while cold eyes appraised her body and judged her sex appeal in combination after combination of bras and panties and made all the important decisions without her input. She'll have hated that they put her in those beautiful, impractical heels, solely to accentuate her already amazing ass, and she'll have hated that she had to lay there prone for take after take, totally mute and obedient, while Hanks stroked her contractually-obliged gym-toned tummy as the director repeatedly told her to arch her back further, to better emphasize her perky tits and long legs for the camera, as Hanks took care of the only real acting required for the scene. Emily had already had her breakout role in The Devil Wears Prada just the previous year, in a real, meaty role that employed her considerable acting talents to full and rewarding effect, but she still found herself required to work out ceaselessly and starve herself for weeks and weeks, while regularly reporting her weight-loss and new measurements to an army of expectant and demanding producers and costumers. All for this tiny, thankless role that, while probably a dream job for a cheerleader or a Playboy model, did nothing for Emily's career except momentarily reduce her to a compliant little plaything to excite the rich old men who paid handsomely for her company that day.
A drama based on a Texas congressman Charlie Wilson's covert dealing in Afghanistan, where his efforts to assist rebels in their war with the Soviets have some unforeseen and long-reaching effects.
Emily is so tempting in her high heels but the main prize is the bend over.