Netflix
We bow to the altar of Rosamund Pike, reigning queen of all elegant, manipulative and selfish villains. It’s amazing that Pike isn’t seen as the resident rule breaker in every movie, TV series, play, or podcast – she really, really is. this Well.
While Pike played the long game like Amy Dunne in Missing girl, she’s going to completely ruin life as Marla Grayson in Netflix I care a lot. It’s hard to compare the performances, both equally frightening and masterful at the same time, but something about the fierce Grayson might resonate even more in our current moment than “cool girl” Dunne arguing with a husband (even It should be noted that no one has ever worked so hard for Ben Affleck, except maybe the Gigli casting team).
Grayson plays in each millennial’s obsession with the modern con artist. Like the false heiress Anna “Delvey” Sorokin and the scam of Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes, Grayson has mastered the art of exploitation. But it wasn’t just the scale of their crimes and the astounding confidence behind them that drove us to integrate The Inventor: Out For Blood in Silicon Valley or by examining each image of Delvey in a courtroom. A messy blonde updo paired with a black turtleneck is now up there with Freddy Krueger’s striped sweater and Jennifer Lopez’s Versace Grammys dress in terms of sartorial iconography. Likewise, Delvey’s chunky-rimmed glasses and the matching black choker made for a memorable Halloween costume. Love them or hate them, scammers have flair.
The air of glamor even extends to film adaptations of the stories of Delvey and Holmes, which claim the star power of Kate Spade’s muse Julia Garner and Dior take on Jennifer Lawrence, respectively.
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In I care a lot, Pike’s Grayson steals the elderly clients she’s been assigned to. She doesn’t rip off the ultra-rich like Delvey and her intentions aren’t well-intentioned as it seems Holmes initially was. But like the two women, Grayson has a uniform – a good one. Sporting a sleek blonde bob (parted in the center like the kids wanted) and a wardrobe filled with shiny sunglasses and deceptively welcoming Cannes movie star, Grayson blows the perfect accessory for any villain. modern: a vape pen. She’s a ruthless, unrepentant opportunist who dresses like a morning talk show host with a secret.
As the movie intensifies, Grayson’s capacity for evil also increases. What begins with continued duplicity evolves into something more sinister when the ‘caregiver’ discovers that her new accusation, Jennifer Peterson (Dianne Wiest), is not the straightforward, unattached woman she originally set her for. . Enter: a “dangerous man” (Peter Dinklage) ready to do whatever it takes to free Jennifer from the nursing home where Grayson sent her against her will. But Grayson never backs down, nor does his collection of bespoke blazers, which work its unique magic right through to the final credits.
We’re told not to judge a book by its cover, but the cover is an essential part of the book’s existence – it shows you what the novel (or the team behind) wants to communicate to a potential reader. The same goes for the villain aesthetic. Grayson wants you to know that she is in control, that she doesn’t mind risks (like, basically, the color yellow). The “lioness” Grayson claims to be in the opening of the film is on display in all outfits.
The bad guy can be sexy. The villain can be elegant. The villain can (and should) always be played by Rosamund Pike.
