Too Perfect Man
Robert Pattinson, rich and vampirized by the Twilight Saga tries to escape it by jumping into a traveling circus. In Water for Elephants he lands in Tai’s arms, the most famous paquiderm in Hollywood.One can’t go far enough. From here to the ocean. There’s nothing farther than Santa Monica. In this California beach where the American continent ends on the West one can’t smoke either. Robert Pattinson is dying to smoke a cigarette, a natural American spirit that he likes, identifying mark of a young Hollywood star. A small sing of his rebellion against an anti-tobacco world. The same rebelliousness as his signature hair, which the British actor does not stop messing with, that shows his nervousness. Let’s not kid ourselves, Pattison would rather not be here. Doing interviews is not his thing, but he has no choice. I am not kidnapping him nor is Hollywood holding him captive: he is victim of his own fame. The Edward Cullen of the Twilight Saga, for whom Twihards, which his fans go by, kiss the floor, does not know where to hide. Neither to smoke or breathe. During filming of his latest film, the first of his new life, Water for Elephants, Pattinson had to change hotels six times in Los Angeles. He’s not picky, he just couldn’t even get into his room without being harassed. “I dream of the day in which I can have a house without fear of someone getting in without being invited,” he says like a true vampire, someone who’s lived out of a suitcase since fame knocked on his door in 2008. From within his desperation, Pattinson says it with a smile; he’s happy with his life. He is amongst the 15 most important Hollywood stars according to Vanity Fair and his earnings in 2010 reached $27.5 million. The saga in which he stars has earned $1.100 million worldwide. There’s still more films left. But everything has a price and Pattinson has sold himself at a high price. Or at least everything it conveys. Like, for example, being the most wanted man on the planet. “An achievement with great meaning,” he says with a hint of sarcasm that his British accent gives every conversation. “It’s taken me a lot of work to achieve it,” he utters with a grin from ear to ear. “It’s one of those thing one has no control over. The same things as with awards or criticism, everything that surrounds us,” he tries to explain. An “us” that refers of Hollywood, not the Fairmount Miramar we are at. “Like I heard from Baredem one day, the dangerous part of receiving awards is that you start to believe it,” he affirms.
He doesn’t think too much of himself. On the contrary, Pattinson is of a much more animated character, a jokester and jovial, than the vampire he has made famous, that spends his life suffering between existing and not, passion and abstinence, life and death. No. Pattinson only resembles his alter ego in beauty, perfect pale skin, juicy lips, deep eyes and a perfect body he is embarrassed to show off. “I would spend my life eating hamburgers,” he comments talking about his invisible fat. At 25 on May 13th, whether he tries to or not, his only problem is being too perfect. At least like Edward Cullen. A serious problem because, nearing the end of a saga whose last book has been split into two to further explore this phenomenon where popular culture and marketing go hand in hand, the only question is, “now what?” He shrugs his shoulders.
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