In Touch magazine recently did a scientific study and concluded that Scarlett owned the best pair of breasts in Hollywood, followed closely by Jessica Simpson and Salma Hayek.
“I’m sure my mom will be proud,” says the honoree. “You work hard making independent films for fourteen years and you get voted best breasts.”
According to another survey, Scarlett has the second-most- kissable lips in the world, topped only by the epic mouth of Angelina Jolie.
And a British poll found Scarlett to have the best female bum. “No!” she objects. “There are plenty of girls with nicer butts. There are plenty of girls who work harder for nicer butts.”
She declines to name names. “What about my brain?” she asks. “What about my heart? What about my kidneys and my gallbladder?”
There is, no doubt, a fetish Web site devoted to Scarlett’s gallbladder—which, by the way, fellas, is all natural.
But, being a general-interest magazine, Esquire has been bold enough to look past the disconnected parts. We have taken in the totality, the gestalt, and we have concluded that Scarlett Johansson—lips, butt, kidneys, and all—is the sexiest woman alive.
I uncovered the tributes to Scarlett’s anatomy while preparing for a little project we had planned: to surf the Internet together and have Scarlett critique all the worshipful and/or scary sites devoted to her (like the one that spells out Scarlett with an s for sappy, c for colorful, a for adaptable, et cetera). Well, actually, surfing the Internet was my plan. Scarlett said no.
That’s one thing I learned early: Scarlett may be charming, but she knows what she wants. And she did not want to look at the Internet.
Instead we are playing pool at Corner Billiards in lower Manhattan. When I met her here, I took out my notebook. “Just don’t write anything pervy,” Scarlett advises me.
Which seems a little like Hillary telling a New Republic editor, “Don’t write anything political.”
Okay, I say, but maybe I could document our date with my digital camera? She agrees but adds, “Can I be art director?” It’s a rhetorical question.
Her first art direction: Since she wasn’t primped by professional hair and makeup people, she’d “rather” I avoided taking photos of her face. “Which is a polite way of saying no way in hell,” she explains.
Her next art direction: She takes the camera and starts shooting her own pictures—of things like the room and me holding a bowl of peanuts.
We play pool. We play abysmally, but at least her form is a thing of beauty. She also chalked the stick with élan, about which I won’t say anything pervy.
Scarlett used to come to Corner Billiards when she was in high school. She grew up in New York, started acting here at age seven, got rejected from commercials because her voice was too smoky. (Everyone thought she had a sore throat.) She became famous at 13 as the injured girl in The Horse Whisperer, and more famous at 18 when she wore sheer underwear in Lost in Translation. More recently, she’s become Woody Allen’s muse; was ranked number one on FHM’s list of the “100 Sexiest Women;” demanded and got a retraction from a tabloid that said she was seen kissing a woman; starred in The Black Dahlia, a Brian De Palma noir thriller, opposite her boyfriend, Josh Hartnett; and currently appears in another thriller, Christopher Nolan’s The Prestige.
She’s good at noir. I talked to her a few times on the phone over the last several months to ask her a series of admittedly inane questions (e.g., “Book you’d take to a desert island?” “How to Survive on a Desert Island“), and she was always smart and friendly. But at the same time, she’s kind of…scary. She’s so preternaturally confident and self-possessed, you feel as if she could be, at any moment, inwardly rolling her eyes at your dorkiness. Better men than I have said so.
Consider this DVD commentary from The Man Who Wasn’t There, a great 2001 Coen brothers’ movie starring Billy Bob Thornton and Scarlett as his piano-playing Lolita: “I think we were all a little intimidated by Scarlett,” says Joel Coen. “Most people have self-doubt at some point in their lives or work.” “Scarlett doesn’t have that,” says Billy Bob.
At one point, Joel suggested Scarlett eat sunflower seeds during a scene. “She said, ‘Why would I eat sunflower seeds?’ ” recalls Billy Bob. “She looked at Joel like, You idiot. What are you talking about? Joel was like, ‘I’m sorry.’ And slinked out of the room.”
I ask her about this while we play pool.
“What do you expect from a cocky 15-year-old?” she says.
And now that she’s 21? “Nowadays, I’m riddled with self-doubt, A. J.” She crumples to the floor, pretending to weep.
Source: MSN Articles