Scarlett Johansson: A Case of Diminishing Returns

Don't get me wrong: Scarlett's hot. According to Esquire, she's the Sexiest Woman Alive (or at least she was last year). I saw her in person once, when she guested on The Tonight Show while I was in the audience, and--needless to say--I was not disappointed.

So shouldn't I be more excited about the news that Scar Jo and Penelope Cruz have a steamy love scene in Woody Allen's new movie, Vicky Cristina Barcelona?

I've come to realize that the more I see Scar Jo, the less I like her. Back when she was fresh and new to the Hollywood scene, her scintillating mix of vulnerability and understated sex appeal, showcased in intelligent turns in top-notch indies like Ghost World and Lost in Translation, made her into the thinking man's dream babe. There was a mystery about her, as if she knew more about life (and, perhaps, sex) than she'd ever let on except under the most intimate of circumstances. But the more popular she got, the more confidence she displayed (see photo above), and the less interesting she became. Gone is the sense of mystery and measured vulnerability, to be replaced with a blatant and self-congratulatory awareness of her own sex appeal. Which actually makes her less sexy. Sigh.

(Apparently, the two actresses, Johansson and Cruz, also have an on-screen threesome with Javier Bardem. Now he's mysterious.)