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The Red Carpet Highlights of... The 78th Annual Cannes Film Festival 2025!
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Michelle Williams
- Thread starter lodymode
- Start date
, this is one of my fav dresses of that collection, its still girly but a little more edgy than she usual does, I love itadorefaith
i'm almost ready..
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i missed the Fallon appearance....thanks so much for posting that! i'd dislike that dress on anyone else i think, but somehow Michelle makes it look so charming. she's impossibly pretty. 
tabitharocks
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That Valentino dress is absolutely stunning on her!
thank you so much!
Label Basher
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For Michelle Williams, an Unfamiliar Role: The Star
By CATHY HORYN
HERE is 45 minutes in my life. Actually, 58 minutes 50 seconds, according to the counter on my tape recorder when I finish my conversation with the actress Michelle Williams in the bar of the Bull and Bear Steakhouse in the Waldorf-Astoria, and her publicist, a harried-looking woman named Cari, whisks her away. A bottle of red wine sits unfinished on the table. I pay the check for my $30 hamburger — she wanted only cocktail nuts — and for the glass of wine I ordered while I was waiting for her, and my thoughts skip a beat, releasing me from the scene. ...
She came across the bar toward the corner table and stuck out her hand: “Hi, I’m Michelle.” She’d come from a room upstairs, where she was doing interviews for “My Week With Marilyn,” a Weinstein production set in England in 1956 when Marilyn Monroe was making “The Prince and the Showgirl” with Laurence Olivier. Ms. Williams, her hair restored to a pixie cut after Marilyn’s goddess curls, did not remove her tweed coat, and it gaped at the neck when she sat down, making her look even smaller than she is.
She shook her head when a waiter asked if she wanted something.
“I would have a glass of wine but I’ll fall asleep,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m usually a partaker.”
She had arrived that morning from Detroit, where she has been filming “Oz: The Great and Powerful” and living in the suburbs with her 6-year-old daughter, Matilda, the child she had with the actor Heath Ledger. She got home from the set at 3 a.m.
“I don’t know when I’ve ever been busier than I am now,” she said. “It’s really taken me by surprise.”
“More than the publicity for “Brokeback Mountain”? I asked. She nodded. “I’ve always had someone to do it with. When we did “Brokeback,” pretty much everything I did was with Heath.” For “Blue Valentine,” she was with Ryan Gosling. “So I haven’t had the experience of being the only person in the conversation.”
“You mean being the star?” She pulled a face and laughed. “I don’t like to put it that way.”
I had two reasons for wanting to talk to Ms. Williams. First, it’s very clear in “Marilyn” that she gives a star performance. She does not so much portray Monroe as project the legend’s thrilling, and toxic, essence. At 31, Ms. Williams has played a string of misery types — Alma in “Brokeback,” Wendy in the enchanting “Wendy and Lucy,” Cindy in “Blue Valentine.” “Marilyn” breaks that pattern, maybe once and for all.
Second, I was interested in a remark she once made about her decision at 15 to be emancipated from her parents. She said, “I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do.” Although I wondered why she thought she was capable of making good decisions, it didn’t strike me as rash. On the contrary, she seemed to know what she wanted. And I suspected she knew that, as well, when she became involved with Mr. Ledger and had a child. (He died in 2008.) She can take care of herself.
Ms. Williams sets up home wherever she is working, enrolling her daughter in a local school and traveling with a sitter. It makes it easier, she said, than commuting to their home in upstate New York.
“It’s hello and goodbye in circles when you live that kind of life,” she said, adding in a false contralto, “ ‘Oh, no, we forgot bunny!’ And I think my daughter knows now that our life is split in two. Half of the year is spent with Mommy working and the other is spent with no work in sight.”
“Can you feel part of a community?” I ask. “You know who makes that happen is my daughter,” she said. “She is remarkably outgoing, engaging, confident. Because of her we wind up making friends wherever we go. We just got a dog. We were at the park and Matilda went up to another family with a dog and started chatting away. Last Tuesday, we had dinner at their house. She’s the social glue.”
A waiter brought a bottle of wine, a gift to her from the producer Harvey Weinstein. Ms. Williams decided to have a glass. “Here I am drinking wine,” she said. “Surprise, surprise.”
I told her I was curious about the remark she had made about her freedom, and whether she believed she had lost anything in the bargain, like a proper education.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “One of the big delights of my life right now is working with James Franco, who hasn’t lost anything. He’s a perpetual student who is now becoming a teacher. I just kind of poke him all day and say, ‘What’s that mean?’ ‘How would you dissect that poem?’ Whatever education I got was from experience and reading. But I also realize I wouldn’t pass my friend’s sixth-grade class. Wow.”
I asked, “So was it teenage rebellion that made you feel that way or were you wise beyond your years?”
She shrugged. “It could have been both. Listen, I’ve always been very headstrong. I did find my direction at an early age. But mixed in there was — I mean, how much sense of the world can you really have at 15? Mixed in was some brashness and naïveté about real danger. I do consider myself lucky that whatever I brushed up against didn’t stick.”
Many years ago I interviewed a well-known actor who, though a year away from winning an Academy Award, was at the time in a trough of bad-guy roles. When I asked why he wasn’t making better pictures, he replied,
“Because those are the roles I was offered.” I repeated the comment to Ms. Williams.
“I concur,” she said. “There isn’t something out there that I’ve — ” She paused. “It was this or dreck. This is what has come to me. It takes one person to say, “I see her a little differently.”
Certainly Simon Curtis, the director of “Marilyn,” saw her as no one else has. She said: “I read the script. I think it came as an offer — which, my God, it’s really good to live in that world. Immediately I knew I wanted the part.”
Given that it’s such a departure, I wondered what she thought about her performance.
“Well, I felt like I made a bet with myself and won,” she said in a soft voice that sounded like Marilyn’s.
“But it’s such a glamorous part.”
“It’s a jump.”
“And star making.”
“You said that dirty word again,” she said, and laughed.
After a moment she said, “I really surprised myself. You know that scene in ‘Star Wars’? Luke and Solo — I don’t even know their names — are about to be squashed in that thing.” She looked at my son, Jacob, who had joined us. “You know that thing?” “A trash compactor,” he said drowsily.
She nodded. “That’s what I felt like every day on the set. Like I was being pressed up against the wall of my own abilities.”
Cari the publicist was hovering and I said to Ms. Williams, “One last question.” “Uh-oh!”
I said I was curious about a “Dateline” interview in which she invoked Joan Didion’s line about a “year of magical thinking” to describe Mr. Ledger’s death. She said she was in a way sad to be moving further and further away from it. I wondered: is that age or did she lack the tools at the time to comprehend everything?
“I think it’s just time away from the event of the thing,” she said, catching herself. “No, event is the wrong word — from the impact of the thing.
There’s sort of a ripple effect. Then when you get too far away you start to get really scared.”
“That you’ll forget.” She said, no, that some things were impossible to forget. “But you don’t seem to carry that dragline,” I said.
“No, I don’t,” she said and then smiled. “Why don’t I?”
nytimes.com
By CATHY HORYN
HERE is 45 minutes in my life. Actually, 58 minutes 50 seconds, according to the counter on my tape recorder when I finish my conversation with the actress Michelle Williams in the bar of the Bull and Bear Steakhouse in the Waldorf-Astoria, and her publicist, a harried-looking woman named Cari, whisks her away. A bottle of red wine sits unfinished on the table. I pay the check for my $30 hamburger — she wanted only cocktail nuts — and for the glass of wine I ordered while I was waiting for her, and my thoughts skip a beat, releasing me from the scene. ...
She came across the bar toward the corner table and stuck out her hand: “Hi, I’m Michelle.” She’d come from a room upstairs, where she was doing interviews for “My Week With Marilyn,” a Weinstein production set in England in 1956 when Marilyn Monroe was making “The Prince and the Showgirl” with Laurence Olivier. Ms. Williams, her hair restored to a pixie cut after Marilyn’s goddess curls, did not remove her tweed coat, and it gaped at the neck when she sat down, making her look even smaller than she is.
She shook her head when a waiter asked if she wanted something.
“I would have a glass of wine but I’ll fall asleep,” she said with a light laugh. “I’m usually a partaker.”
She had arrived that morning from Detroit, where she has been filming “Oz: The Great and Powerful” and living in the suburbs with her 6-year-old daughter, Matilda, the child she had with the actor Heath Ledger. She got home from the set at 3 a.m.
“I don’t know when I’ve ever been busier than I am now,” she said. “It’s really taken me by surprise.”
“More than the publicity for “Brokeback Mountain”? I asked. She nodded. “I’ve always had someone to do it with. When we did “Brokeback,” pretty much everything I did was with Heath.” For “Blue Valentine,” she was with Ryan Gosling. “So I haven’t had the experience of being the only person in the conversation.”
“You mean being the star?” She pulled a face and laughed. “I don’t like to put it that way.”
I had two reasons for wanting to talk to Ms. Williams. First, it’s very clear in “Marilyn” that she gives a star performance. She does not so much portray Monroe as project the legend’s thrilling, and toxic, essence. At 31, Ms. Williams has played a string of misery types — Alma in “Brokeback,” Wendy in the enchanting “Wendy and Lucy,” Cindy in “Blue Valentine.” “Marilyn” breaks that pattern, maybe once and for all.
Second, I was interested in a remark she once made about her decision at 15 to be emancipated from her parents. She said, “I didn’t want anyone telling me what to do.” Although I wondered why she thought she was capable of making good decisions, it didn’t strike me as rash. On the contrary, she seemed to know what she wanted. And I suspected she knew that, as well, when she became involved with Mr. Ledger and had a child. (He died in 2008.) She can take care of herself.
Ms. Williams sets up home wherever she is working, enrolling her daughter in a local school and traveling with a sitter. It makes it easier, she said, than commuting to their home in upstate New York.
“It’s hello and goodbye in circles when you live that kind of life,” she said, adding in a false contralto, “ ‘Oh, no, we forgot bunny!’ And I think my daughter knows now that our life is split in two. Half of the year is spent with Mommy working and the other is spent with no work in sight.”
“Can you feel part of a community?” I ask. “You know who makes that happen is my daughter,” she said. “She is remarkably outgoing, engaging, confident. Because of her we wind up making friends wherever we go. We just got a dog. We were at the park and Matilda went up to another family with a dog and started chatting away. Last Tuesday, we had dinner at their house. She’s the social glue.”
A waiter brought a bottle of wine, a gift to her from the producer Harvey Weinstein. Ms. Williams decided to have a glass. “Here I am drinking wine,” she said. “Surprise, surprise.”
I told her I was curious about the remark she had made about her freedom, and whether she believed she had lost anything in the bargain, like a proper education.
“Yes, I do,” she said. “One of the big delights of my life right now is working with James Franco, who hasn’t lost anything. He’s a perpetual student who is now becoming a teacher. I just kind of poke him all day and say, ‘What’s that mean?’ ‘How would you dissect that poem?’ Whatever education I got was from experience and reading. But I also realize I wouldn’t pass my friend’s sixth-grade class. Wow.”
I asked, “So was it teenage rebellion that made you feel that way or were you wise beyond your years?”
She shrugged. “It could have been both. Listen, I’ve always been very headstrong. I did find my direction at an early age. But mixed in there was — I mean, how much sense of the world can you really have at 15? Mixed in was some brashness and naïveté about real danger. I do consider myself lucky that whatever I brushed up against didn’t stick.”
Many years ago I interviewed a well-known actor who, though a year away from winning an Academy Award, was at the time in a trough of bad-guy roles. When I asked why he wasn’t making better pictures, he replied,
“Because those are the roles I was offered.” I repeated the comment to Ms. Williams.
“I concur,” she said. “There isn’t something out there that I’ve — ” She paused. “It was this or dreck. This is what has come to me. It takes one person to say, “I see her a little differently.”
Certainly Simon Curtis, the director of “Marilyn,” saw her as no one else has. She said: “I read the script. I think it came as an offer — which, my God, it’s really good to live in that world. Immediately I knew I wanted the part.”
Given that it’s such a departure, I wondered what she thought about her performance.
“Well, I felt like I made a bet with myself and won,” she said in a soft voice that sounded like Marilyn’s.
“But it’s such a glamorous part.”
“It’s a jump.”
“And star making.”
“You said that dirty word again,” she said, and laughed.
After a moment she said, “I really surprised myself. You know that scene in ‘Star Wars’? Luke and Solo — I don’t even know their names — are about to be squashed in that thing.” She looked at my son, Jacob, who had joined us. “You know that thing?” “A trash compactor,” he said drowsily.
She nodded. “That’s what I felt like every day on the set. Like I was being pressed up against the wall of my own abilities.”
Cari the publicist was hovering and I said to Ms. Williams, “One last question.” “Uh-oh!”
I said I was curious about a “Dateline” interview in which she invoked Joan Didion’s line about a “year of magical thinking” to describe Mr. Ledger’s death. She said she was in a way sad to be moving further and further away from it. I wondered: is that age or did she lack the tools at the time to comprehend everything?
“I think it’s just time away from the event of the thing,” she said, catching herself. “No, event is the wrong word — from the impact of the thing.
There’s sort of a ripple effect. Then when you get too far away you start to get really scared.”
“That you’ll forget.” She said, no, that some things were impossible to forget. “But you don’t seem to carry that dragline,” I said.
“No, I don’t,” she said and then smiled. “Why don’t I?”
nytimes.com
Not Plain Jane
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She looks lovely in the above dress and photo!
Working Girl
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I have never found Michelle sexy. But wow, she is looking amazing, confident and sexy. She has this new aura about her, she doesnt look scared anymore.
sobriquet87
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Thanks Label Basher and LolaSvelt for the interviews!! I love Michelle!
