Seems like nowadays you can’t throw a stone without it hitting some super awesome Chris Pratt interview or feature. The man is taking over the media – especially via the internet – and we’re all loving him. I’ve also been seeing a whole lot of media outlets dubbing him “the new Jennifer Lawrence”, which I think is one of the stupidest titles that can be bestowed on someone. The new Jennifer Lawrence? Really?
The harmless insinuation, of course, is that he has become the internet sweetheart, just like Jennifer Lawrence has had been. However, the bigger picture is a lot more troubling, because the connotation of this title is that Chris Pratt has replaced Jennifer Lawrence as our global darling, much like it had been said that Jennifer had replaced Anne Hathaway a few years ago. What is it with this replacement nonsense? Do we really need to keep replacing a beloved celebrity every two years? Because, really, the implication here is that we’re incapable of being nice to one person at a time… even if they’re a celebrity. Our capacity to shower someone with love must seem to always come in phases, and when one phase is over, and we’ve found a new object of affection, the previous darling must now only be met with scorn and overall hostility. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so frighteningly true. Almost.
Anywehumansaresuperficialcreatures, Chris Pratt is currently riding his newfound adoring high, and he covers the September issue of Esquire Magazine. Naturally, he’s once again painted as the perfect All-American boy with a killer bod and a charming smile. I’ve said this before, but I actually do believe that Chris Pratt is as nice as he comes off… I mean, the man is married to Anna Faris, for crying out loud! Anna Faris is one of the most adorable celebrities out there, so it would stand to reason that her husband would be similarly lovely. They’ve been together since 2007, mind you, so I’m assuming that something is working with their personalities to allow them to still be together.
Check out Chris decked out in designer labels (and a mustache) in Esquire’s September issue.