I have come to meet a movie star, but it’s not a movie star who arrives—it’s a mother of four. “Sorry about all the kids!” Blake Lively shouts merrily as she staggers under the weight of one child and pulls another along by the hand; a third wanders behind. We are at a terrace restaurant near the top of the Spanish Steps in Rome, and from here we can see the entire city in the slant of evening light, the famous hills and arc of the Tiber river, the marble monuments and ruins tinted pink and blue.
Blake’s children are dancing and singing around their mother; it is a scene of joy and silliness and utter chaos, and she seems to be delighting in it. I tell her I’m not going to mention her kids in this piece, and she says oh you can mention them. “Sitting around with them doing chicken dances while I have a very serious conversation with you is probably the most accurate portrait of me possible.
Did you bring cookies?” she asks, noticing the bag in my hand. I’d hoped to bake with her in the kitchens of the Rome Sustainable Food Project, which had sent along a batch; Blake is known as a world-class baker. “So sorry about that,” she says, brushing her hair out of her face.
“I’d love to bake with you! But you can see my life...
.” I’m not sure I can see her life, but I can it: in the sunny kindness in which she sends her children back to their hotel room, in the glee with which she attacks the cookies, in the almost nerdy enthusiasm she projects for Baz Luhrmann and the shoot they just finished for Here is the wife of Ryan Reynolds, star of and —the sequel to which has brought her here to Rome. (She also has a new movie, out in August.
) Here she is talking about Luhrmann not as a celebrity might but as the teenage girl she used to be, sitting in her bedroom in the San Fernando Valley and looking up at her signed poster from “I’m just gonna go out on a limb and say Baz is my favorite director,” she states boldly. She is dressed in patched light-colored jeans and pink-green patterned knits over a white T-shirt, her blond hair floating around her as she gestures. Her face, beautiful in its planes and shadows, faceted by the setting sun, is equally expressive.
We have a few hours before Blake needs to head to hair and makeup and then, around midnight, to the Trevi Fountain to film a critical sequence of “I just love Baz so much. Because he celebrates love. Nobody does love like that.
” I ask if that’s why she agreed to this shoot for The three jeweled bracelets slip down her arm as she leans her head into her hand. “I’m a very shy person, so I don’t like doing photo shoots, really. Because when I’m acting, I’m playing a character.
And I don’t...
I don’t feel super comfortable in front of a camera. It’s part of why I don’t want to be in magazines. I know it’s not something I’m supposed to say—I mean, this is I think the first cover I’ve done in four years.
Because I just,” she adds, becoming quiet as she goes back to the package of cookies. “I’m just too shy.” I wonder how someone so effusive could call herself shy.
“My life has become more intimate,” she explains, meaning she has been focused on her young children in recent years, and taking fewer movie roles. “But when they said Baz will do it, I thought, Okay, I’ve always wanted to work with Baz. Even if it’s just a week doing a photo shoot for that’s still working with him.
Seeing through his lens and how he tells stories.” She smiles, and with a little laugh adds: “Gracing these pages is not my gift to the world. I understand I’m lucky to do it.
” I ask if they came up with the character of the jewel thief together, and she says Luhrmann saw a new side of her in something a little dangerous that he liked, that made him think of timelessness and Old Hollywood and “I said, ‘It’s all mischief. Mischief is what I love.’ ” She finishes the cookie and brushes off the crumbs.
Her ear jewelry sparkles in the light. “It was building something around Blake,” Luhrmann will later say of the images on these pages—a story of Lively as “The Cat,” romanced and brought down by the mysterious L’Ombre (played by Hugh Jackman): “A quality in her, wanting to see her play something that you don’t immediately associate with her body of work.” Lively tells me about going to the offices for a fitting before the shoot.
“It was just supposed to be a fitting, you try on the clothes, there’s a tailor there, they pin the clothes.” She shakes her head, laughing. “There was no pinning of clothes.
Because it was Baz and we turned it into a multi-hour photo shoot with hair dryers becoming wind machines and me mounting a desk and people with flashlights creating lighting effects. And later we realized we didn’t take a single fitting photo! Because that’s what he does, sweeps you up into his world,” she says. Luhrmann laughs remembering the scene.
“We must have a sense of play,” he says. “I’m not saying actors are children, but if I play—letting go of my fears and my fear of embarrassment—then everyone else has the license to play.” Blake has come around to my side of the table, “and I had Elizabeth Taylor’s necklace!” she’s telling me.
“Elizabeth Taylor’s necklace in my I have to show you. So there were these people there that had these rubber covers on their fingers, and I had a foam mat below me in case the necklace fell..
..” As she is showing me pictures on her phone, I’m watching her and wondering: What a movie star? There are so few left, at least in the old-fashioned sense of Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn, and here I sit before one of the last of these rare creatures.
Breezy and thoughtful and almost geekily enthusiastic, now showing me a video of Luhrmann dancing along as he shows her the moves he wants (“I’ve watched this video so many times”), with pauses where she seems to be wondering, before she launches back in with breathless exuberance, talking now about the abundance mindset of Luhrmann and her love of Jackman (“He’s a guy who will show up for you anytime or place. Whether it’s public or private, that man shows up!”), and how can you not be swept up in it? I wonder if that is what makes a star: this drive to create. More even than magnetism and talent and charm, a force of will that directors like Paul Feig and Luhrmann recognize in her.
The grit and determination to make something from nothing. “Are you hungry?” she asks. “Should we order something? I think I’m going to go with fish.
” And then we are on to the subject of Halloween costumes...
. “They are megawatt stars,” Hugh Jackman tells me over the phone from London, talking about Blake and her husband. “These are like old-school megawatt stars.
..and of course I’ve spent many hours with them, like in pajamas just hanging out in their house with their nine hundred children and dogs and it is just as normal as can be, and Blake will be baking and cooking and saying, ‘Let’s make pizza,’ and then the next thing you turn around,” he says, describing her changing for an event, “and there she is, this incredible star.
It’s...
it’s astonishing to me.” I ask him what he thinks it is, the transformation. “It’s someone who is comfortable in their own skin,” is how he explains it.
“You can’t make that happen. You can’t bestow it on someone. She says she’s shy.
And I believe that. I think there’s a shyness there. I’ve seen it before.
Nicole Kidman and others have it. There’s a shyness, and it leads into this ability to morph and shape-shift. And she’s, as I said, walking around in pajamas and then five minutes later—it’s Elizabeth Taylor! At the height of her beauty.
And you’re like, What? How? And it’s totally...
it’s miraculous. It’s a beautiful thing to watch.” Luhrmann has something to say on this subject as well.
“It may sound corny,” he tells me, “but a movie star projects light. They’re more luminous in a scene or on the screen. And while they can be deeply, deeply authentic and real, they are also aspirational in their glamour, their humanity.
I’ve seen it in film, and I’ve seen it in drama, and I’ve seen it in musical stars: that you can be standing next to them and they’re lovely and human and the next thing, they’re giant on the stage, you know?” Being with Blake Lively is not like being with any of her characters. Not the chic and wicked Emily Nelson from not the morally ambiguous Serena van der Woodsen from not even the strong and suffering Lily Bloom from her latest, the adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s bestselling It is not like being with a celebrity who has been asked every possible question and carefully gives the practiced response. It is more like being in a fast-moving river, one that is changing every minute—from acting to film editing to running businesses to being a mother—and the current is so strong and sure, why not just go along for the ride? We talk about the Halloween costumes she created for her children—“I got cloaks on Etsy and went to the Garment District, got all the trims.
Look, I did all this, the sweetheart shape, the details on the sleeve...
”—and about her theories of baking—“I’d so much rather buy a box of Betty Crocker vanilla cake mix, because they’ve already done the chemistry of it, the science, and then now I get to make it taste delicious. Now I get to add my bourbon or my elderflower liqueur..
.”—and about home decoration, how her friends send her photos of their homes, dorm rooms, anything—“and I draw on it, and I find the pieces for them. And I love design.
” It is creation, in fact, that is the main subject of our time together. She is leaning over her food now, explaining to me about a friend of hers, an architect who says nothing great was ever built without enthusiasm. “I think it means you have to go out there and fight for what you believe in,” she says.
“You’ve got to have passion.” I ask if she writes. Blake tilts her head, suddenly curious.
She plays with the big blue ring on her finger. “My husband did an interview where they asked, ‘What’s something surprising that people don’t know about your wife?’ And he said: ‘It’s that she’s a writer. She writes on every movie she works on.
’ And the interviewer said: ‘And the ? And the baking, right? She’s a great baker.’ It was just such an interesting moment. I don’t know if it’s a female thing or not.
They want to talk about the baking.” “I’m sorry I asked to bake together,” I say, a little abashed. “I’m a terrible baker.
” Her eyes narrow. “Why did you ask about writing?” I say the question occurred to me the night before. I had read about all her creative endeavors, and something about that restlessness felt familiar.
Later, Feig will confirm that she worked to bring about her vision for a character (“She did work on her dialogue to make that happen,” he will say, admiringly. “And it just brought everything to life.”) I ask Lively if she would ever write something from scratch.
She considers this. “A blank page is not nearly as exciting to me as starting with a script and finding something people have overlooked. Saying no, no, no, there’s something there! To me, it’s a treasure hunt.
And so when I can see the treasure, then I get to be an archaeologist. I get to excavate, I get to carve it out and find this thing and show people the value in it. That, to me, is what I love.
” The last light glints from another ring, a bright coil around a finger. “After this I’ll make you an oatmeal cappuccino,” she says brightly. “Because it’s the only way we’ll stay awake till 6 a.
m.” Everyone I talk to emphasizes her commitment as a mother. I talk to Hoover, who has spent a great deal of time with Lively and her family.
“She could be on a phone call with, it doesn’t matter, the freaking Pope,” she says, “and if her kid walks into the room, she’s gonna give one hundred percent of her attention to her children. As a mom, I just really fell in love with that part of her.” Feig says the same: “She’s the best, one of the best moms I’ve ever seen.
” He laughs. “When she’s working and when she’s in it, a rock-solid pro—but it’s so funny because then there she is, off running to get gelato for the kids.” Feig also touches on the question of a movie star.
“From my experience, movie stars have a charisma that is undeniable. I can’t even describe why it’s there, other than they’re just born with it and they are able to throw their energy at you. There’s lots of good actors who simply aren’t movie stars.
There are movie stars who aren’t the world’s greatest actors, it’s just you can’t take your eyes off them.” He pauses for a moment. “Blake just happens to be a great actress who also is a movie star.
And when you’ve got those two things, then the sky’s the limit.” Blake and I arrive at the movie set after a brief stop in her hotel room for her to make us cappuccinos, which we sip on the balcony with the feeling of New Yorkers on a fire escape, then a car whisks us away to the Villa Borghese gardens, where trailers are lined up on the darkened street; it’s impossible to set these up in the narrow cobbled streets around the Trevi Fountain, so hair and makeup and costumes are all done here, two miles away. Though Blake invites me into her makeup trailer, I give her some privacy and look around at Rome at night.
A giant geodesic dome rises in the darkness behind us. I realize we are set up right beside the zoo. A little later, a shout: “Okay, let’s go!” It is Blake, all in pearls.
As in: the dress, diamond-patterned in ropes of pearls, jewels sparkling among them—and she makes her way to the car on enormously tall high heels. Her hair is done; her makeup is done. She merrily lifts the strands to hoist herself into the car.
She explains she found the dress at Tamara Ralph and thought it was perfect for the character and this scene with the great Italian actress Elena Sofia Ricci. We ride through the gardens and out into Rome again, through twisting streets, until we stop, and we are there. The Trevi Fountain.
I ask if she needs help with the ancient marble steps. Blake pauses for a moment, measuring the physics of it all. “Take hold of my arm,” she tells me.
“I have to hold the dress.” And so, holding her arm, we descend into the splashing grotto in the heart of Rome. Bright lights are on us, and a crowd is gathered, kept at a distance by yellow tape.
As we make our way, I say that she keeps mentioning how lucky she is but what I see is a hardworking, passionate person. “Isn’t that what luck is, really? Opportunity followed by hard work?” Blake nods, considering this. I know she realizes how much effort she puts into everything—and in fact we are this very moment entering her workplace.
“Gelato break!” Blake yells, and suddenly we are headed up to the gelato bar on the piazza. The crowd moves to make room for us; it’s just me and Blake and her mom, Elaine, a cheerful, dreamy woman in a baseball cap who discusses chocolate flavors with me. Elaine often comes along to help with the kids.
Blake has mentioned her mother, how growing up she always told her: “You can’t mess it up.” Blake grew up with four siblings and, as the youngest, was often thrown into the entertainment-industry lifestyle of her mother and late father, Ernie, both veterans of Hollywood who took Blake along to acting classes. Decorating the house for a party, even letting her cut her hair, Elaine told Blake: “You can’t mess it up.
” “And I very much mess it up!” Blake says. “My instinct is I really want to do the work and prepare and be ready before I even take the first step in trying. And she’s somebody who’s just like, Go go! Learn as you go!” “I want two cups,” Blake says to the young woman behind the counter.
“Big ones! I want lemon and mint ginger and coconut and...
.” Then we are making our way back through the crowd. She is telling me that she’s off to Madrid the next morning—to bring her family to see her friend Taylor Swift.
Swift, like Jackman, is someone she holds dear. She’s known for these close friendships, and Gigi Hadid tells me, “To be friends with her is to have the most beautiful, effortlessly cool, witty, fun, fashionable, creative, caring bonus sister.” “I was thinking about what you said before, about luck,” Blake says, holding out both dripping cups of ice cream as we make our careful way back to the fountain.
Then she stops and looks me directly in the eye: “Wouldn’t it be terrible if I didn’t realize how lucky I am?” Blake heads back to work, and I sit to chat with her mother until she tells me to turn around. Suddenly, here she is: the person I came to see. Festooned with pearls in a Botticelli pattern of foam decorating this particular goddess, standing before the Baroque grotto of the Trevi Fountain, its falls and inlets, its storm-carved stone, its water splashing and glittering, she walks, herself glittering with tiny jewels, the pearls clinking like shells or gold coins, and the hair, Botticelli again, falling over her right shoulder in soft blond waves precisely like the waves of the fountain itself, spilling over the final lip in the glow of the evening lights.
She walks toward the camera, and just for a moment, none of us can breathe..
