After a long break, the Oscar winner returns with the ferocious satire Donât Look Up, and talks to V.F. about love, fame, and boundaries.
At first glance, it appears that Jennifer Lawrence has either been institutionalized or is on the set of a horror movie. Sheâs sitting in a rattan rocking chair, slowly creaking back and forth. The walls of the otherwise empty room are colorless and bare, except for the discomfiting shadow of a ladder over her right shoulder. Her hair is long and wet. Her computer sits atop a stack of boxes, angled for this September morningâs stint in Zoom prison so that her pregnant belly is out of sight. Thereâs a scratching at the door behind her. No fool, her cat Frank, otherwise known as Fredericks, doesnât want any part of this and is trying to get out.
Told to blink twice if she needs rescuing, Lawrence laughs. She and her husband of two years, art gallery director Cooke Maroney, are in a rental while their Manhattan town house is under construction. The austerity of the room feels staged to discourage any unwanted probing. So urgent is Lawrenceâs desire for privacy that she recently gave up her beloved dog, Pippi. The paparazzi had come to count on their daily walks in Central Park, so now the dog can chase squirrels unbothered on her parentsâ farm in Kentucky, and Lawrence fantasizes about a life with 15 cats.
âIâm so nervous,â she says at the start of our conversation. âI havenât spoken to the world in forever. And to come back now, when I have all of these new accessories added to my life that I obviously want to protectâŠ.â She crosses her arms over her baggy gray sweater. âIâm nervous for you. Iâm nervous for me. Iâm nervous for the readers!â
After a long break from public life, Lawrence returns to the screen in Adam McKayâs end-of-the-world comedy Donât Look Up, in which she and Leonardo DiCaprio play scientists screaming at a polarized society to take seriously the comet hurtling toward the planet. Itâs her first comedy, and the timing of stepping back into the spotlight while pregnant with her first child is almost comedic.
By early 2018, Lawrence was one of the highest paid actors in the worldâan Oscar winner who stumbled up the steps on the way to collect the trophy, further cementing her public image as the movie star youâd most like to chug a beer withâbut sheâd had enough. Her last four movies (Passengers, Mother!, Red Sparrow, and the 12th X-Men film, Dark Phoenix) turned out to be critical or box office disappointments. âI was not pumping out the quality that I should have,â she says, a sad statement for someone so fiercely talented. âI just think everybody had gotten sick of me. Iâd gotten sick of me. It had just gotten to a point where I couldnât do anything right. If I walked a red carpet, it was, âWhy didnât she run?â⊠I think that I was people-pleasing for the majority of my life. Working made me feel like nobody could be mad at me: âOkay, I said yes, weâre doing it. Nobodyâs mad.â And then I felt like I reached a point where people were not pleased just by my existence. So that kind of shook me out of thinking that work or your career can bring any kind of peace to your soul.â
Lawrenceâs producing partner and best friend of 13 years, Justine Polsky, says: âThe protocol of stardom began to kill her creative spirit, to fuck with her compass. So, she vanished, which was probably the most responsible way to protect her gifts. And sanity.â
Ifirst met Lawrence when she was 20, freshly cast as Katniss Everdeen in the Hunger Games franchise. While sweating through an archery lesson in Santa Monica, she told me she hoped to work with Adam McKay one day because she was obsessed with his Will Ferrell comedies. So much so that at 19, just before her first Oscar nomination, sheâd requested a meeting with McKay at his Funny or Die offices and showed up with a binder of notes on his movies. âI got this call that the wonderful actress from Winterâs Bone wanted to meet me,â says McKay. âAnd she came in and just for an hour we talked about Step Brothers. And Iâm like, âI like her. Weâre idiots too.â â
All those years ago, Lawrence also told me that she knew she wanted to be a mom. After she first moved to Los Angeles as a 15-year-old auditioning actor, she got a job nannying for a family with a nine-month-old baby. When she booked a sitcom, she was devastated that, after being there for the little girlâs first words, she would miss her first steps.
Opportunity comes at a price. You could already see a second skin of self-deprecation and self-consciousness taking hold of the young actor. âI donât want to offend anyone,â Lawrence told me back then. âI donât want to look stupid. I donât want to be a douchebag. Part of me is like âEnh, fuck it.â And then, every once in a while, Iâm like, âGod, Iâm a loser.â You think thatâll go away when Iâm 30?â
âI was people-pleasing for the majority of my life. Working made me feel like nobody could be mad at me: âOkay, I said yes, weâre doing it. Nobodyâs mad.â And then I felt like I reached a point where people were not pleased just by my existence.â
Lawrence is now 31 and entering a season of full-circle abundance. Sheâs working with her heroes, and sheâs going to be a mother, though her feelings around expecting, other than saying that sheâs grateful and excited, are too sacred to share with the world: âIf I was at a dinner party, and somebody was like, âOh, my God, youâre expecting a baby,â I wouldnât be like, âGod, I canât talk about that. Get away from me, you psycho!â But every instinct in my body wants to protect their privacy for the rest of their lives, as much as I can. I donât want anyone to feel welcome into their existence. And I feel like that just starts with not including them in this part of my work.â
If anything was clarifying about Lawrenceâs time away, itâs that she wants to be more thoughtful with her choices and words and less of a people pleaser, however excruciating she finds the practice of restraint.
She excuses herself to pee when I ask if she uses humor to mask feelings of vulnerability. âItâs just going to be one second, I promise Iâm going to answer the question!â She shuffles around the corner to the bathroom. When she returns, sheâs laughing and shaking her head. âI really wish Iâd muted the recording. I was so self-conscious the whole time, thinking to myself, Can she hear this?â
This boundary business is going to be hard.
There was a moment, shortly before her break, when Lawrence was convinced she was going to die. It was the summer of 2017, and sheâd boarded a private plane in her hometown, Louisville, Kentucky, bound for New York City. (âI know, flying private, I deserve to die.â) She had wrapped Mother!, her then boyfriend Darren Aronofskyâs horror movie of biblical proportions, in which Lawrenceâs titular character is (spoiler alertâwell, all kinds of alerts) burned alive after a teeming crowd eats her baby. All to say, her adrenals were a mess prior to takeoff.
Up in the air, there was a loud noise, and the air pressure in the cabin went kind of rubbery. The other passenger, the son of the Louisville doctor who delivered Lawrence and her two brothers, was called to the cockpit. He returned ashen-faced with news that one of the two engines had failed but stressed that they could still make a safe emergency landing with just the one. Then the plane went silent, and Lawrence knew that they were cooked. âMy skeleton was all that was left in the seat,â she says. Theyâd lost the second engine.
Lawrence could hear the cockpit clanging in distress as the plane dipped wildly. âWe were all just going to die,â says Lawrence. âI started leaving little mental voicemails to my family, you know, âIâve had a great life, Iâm sorry.â â
I interrupt to wonder about the apology in there.
âI just felt guilty,â Lawrence says. âEverybody was going to be so bummed. And, oh, God, Pippi was on my lap, that was the worst part. Hereâs this little thing who didnât ask to be a part of any of this.â She saw a runway below, awash with fire trucks and ambulances. âI started praying. Not to the specific God I grew up with, because he was terrifying and a very judgmental guy. But I thought, Oh, my God, maybe weâll survive this? Iâll be a burn victim, this will be painful, but maybe weâll live.â She pauses to crack a joke. â âPlease, Lord Jesus, let me keep my hair. Wrap me in your hair-loving arms. Please donât let me go bald.â â
The plane hit a Buffalo runway hard, bounced into the air, and then slammed into the ground again. Rescue crews broke the jet door open, and the passengers and crew, everyone crying and hugging, emerged physically unscathed. Immediately afterward, Lawrence, anesthetized thanks to a very large pill and several mini bottles of rum, had to board another plane.
Sometimes itâs bullshit when people say what doesnât kill you makes you stronger. âIt made me a lot weaker,â she says with a rueful smile. âFlying is horrific and I have to do it all the time.â
Not all stress cycles can be completed. In 2014, iCloud hackers disseminated Lawrenceâs private nude photos across the internet, granting every toxic person with a keyboard a peek. It was dehumanizing and, because the internet is the devilâs playground, it remains an ongoing act of violation. âAnybody can go look at my naked body without my consent, any time of the day,â she says. âSomebody in France just published them. My trauma will exist forever.â She shakes it off with a wincing grin. âHave you ever wanted to be an actress?â
âBy the time I came across Harvey, I was about to win an Academy Award. I was getting The Hunger Games. Itâs not like Iâve gone my entire career with men being appropriate. But thatâs a perfect example of where getting power quickly did save me.â
This is a grim and fraught industry for women, of course. At the height of the #MeToo movement, Harvey Weinstein weaponized Lawrenceâs name twice. In a 2018 motion to dismiss racketeering charges brought against him by six women, his lawyers argued, quoting Lawrence out of context, that Weinstein âhad only ever been nice to me.â Her mouth curls at his name: âSo how could he possibly be a rapist, right?â In a separate lawsuit, an unnamed actor claimed that as Weinstein sexually assaulted her, he lied pathetically, âI slept with Jennifer Lawrence and look where she is; she has just won an Oscar.â
Lawrence holds her hands up in weary disgust at being used as a false notch in Weinsteinâs grotesque belt. âHarveyâs victims were women that believed that he was going to help them. Fortunately, by the time I had even come across Harvey in my career, I was about to win an Academy Award. I was getting The Hunger Games. So I avoided that specific situation. Of course, Iâm a woman in the professional world. So itâs not like Iâve gone my entire career with men being appropriate. But, yeah, thatâs a perfect example of where getting power quickly did save me.â
âIdidnât have a life. I thought I should go get one.â
Before her break, Lawrence had come to view the hermetic confines of movie sets as safe compared to the unpredictable dangers of the real world. âThe attention on me was so high and extreme that, in a bizarre way, the set had become a great escape. Everybody treats you normally. Itâs not like you walk into hair and makeup and people are like, âOh, my God!â But you get burnt out. Eventually I had to ask myself, Am I saying yes because I want to go to work the next day? Or am I doing this because I want to make this movie?â
With work on hold, she experimented with sleeping in. She hung out with friends, the same tight circle sheâs had since before she got famous. She became active on the board of the grassroots antiâpolitical corruption campaign RepresentUs. âWe had a couple of real wins in Koch brother choke lands,â she says proudly.
Lawrenceâs life simplified in ways she hadnât believed possible. âSince The Hunger Games,â she says, âI had a security guard or some kind of comfort thing in case I walked into a restaurant, and everyone went, âOh, God!â Just for my baseline anxiety.â I tell her she makes a bodyguard sound like a kind of babyâs lovey. âOh, my God, yeah, thatâs so tragic and hateable,â she says, laughing. âSo, when I started dating my now husband, I was so embarrassed to bring my lovey when he asked me out. I mean, how mortifying would that have been? So I didnât, and it made me really nervous the first few times, and it turned out totally fine. I realized you get more privacy ifâŠ.â She pauses for a sip and reconsiders her words. âI donât know if this is even safe to talk about,â she says, changing course. âI have security all the time. Twenty-four hours a day. And a gun!â
She also took back some agency over her career. In 2018, Lawrence and longtime friend Polsky formed their production company, Excellent Cadaver. The grisly moniker refers to an old-timey term for a Mafia hit on a prominent person. Lawrence explains she picked it because it left a little bit of a disturbing taste in the mouth. âItâs not like Drew Barrymoreâs Flower Films,â she says, laughing. âSo, Donkey Shit. Zombie Rape. Camel FatâŠ.â When I ask her what type of stories Excellent Cadaver isnât interested in telling, she says âWell, thatâs hard to answer, because if I answer honestly, Iâm out of a job. I mean, havenât we had enough stories about white women?â Whatever truth there is to that aside, the shingle recently put together a deal for Lawrence to star in a biopic of superagent Sue Mengers, which the Italian director Paolo Sorrentino (The Young Pope) will direct.
But Excellent Cadaverâs ribbon cutter will be a still-untitled soldier project starring Lawrence and directed by Lila Neugebauer, whose roots are in the theater. Lawrence plays a U.S. soldier with a traumatic brain injury who returns home to an uncertain life. âA very small, relatively abstract character piece with a first-time filmmaker after a hiatus?â says Polsky. âIt definitely swerved comeback expectations. There was no thorough discussion among Jenâs team. She believed deeply in the piece, she believed deeply in Lila, and we were melting in New Orleans three months later.â
Years ago, Jodie Foster shared some wisdom with Lawrence that stuck: âAt some point when youâre older, youâll look back and see a pattern. Youâll see why you were making movies at a certain time in your life.â Lawrence was engaged to be married when Neugebauerâs film first went into production. âThe script spoke to me as somebody who was healing from unseen injuries and was entering a world that was healthier and better, but scarier. Staying is hard. Itâs scary when youâre used to leaving.â Production went on hold because of a hard out for Lawrenceâs wedding and wasnât able to pick back up for two years because of COVID. She returned to finish the shoot as a happily married woman, or as she puts it, âI came back with a better perspective on staying.â (The movie is set for a 2022 release.)
Asked what she likes about her marriage, Lawrence pauses to consider what sheâs willing to share. âI really enjoy going to the grocery store with him,â she says. âI donât know why but it fills me with a lot of joy. I think maybe because itâs almost a metaphor for marriage. âOkay, weâve got this list. These are the things we need. Letâs work together and get this done.â And I always get one of the cooking magazines, like 15 Minute Healthy Meals, and he always gives me a look like, âYouâre not going to use that. When are you going to make that?â And I say, âYes, I am. Tuesday!â And heâs always right, and I never do.â
Lawrence sips from a white water bottle covered in stickers from her favorite movie, Hereditary, including one of a terrified Toni Collette, who plays the filmâs main character. Lawrence wears three gifts from her husband around her neck: her wedding band on a chain; a pearl necklace; and a diamond necklace Maroney gave her for her 30th birthday. Heâd slipped it into a hardbound edition of Hereditaryâs screenplay, where it lay glinting atop the glossy image of a characterâs decapitated head on the side of the road, swarming with ants. âIt was so sweet,â she says, with a happy sigh. Truly, there is a lid for every pot.
At the beginning of Donât Look Up, Lawrenceâs astronomy Ph.D. candidate discovers a comet of planet-killing magnitude. Her character, Kate, has a red mullet, double nose piercings, a taste in practical sweaters, and an inability to play nice with corrupt politicians (notably, Meryl Streepâs MAGA-esque president and Jonah Hillâs bloviating first son) or a callous, ratings-obsessed media. âHandsome astronomer, come back any time,â Cate Blanchettâs TV anchor says to DiCaprioâs Dr. Mindy after the scientists try to sound the alarm on a popular morning show, before frowning in Kateâs direction, âbut the yelling girl, not so much.â
âNo one has more beautiful anger than Jen,â says McKay. âWhen she unleashes, it is a sight to behold. Think of her in Silver Linings Playbook, her in everything.â After his last two corrupt-white-men moviesâThe Big Short and Viceâhe wanted to write a script built in part around Lawrenceâs capacity for honest rage. âI wanted to cut loose with a strong, funny truth-teller woman and thatâs Jen Lawrence. I mean, that character poured out of me. I would just picture Jen and you knew exactly what she would sayâŠ. Sheâs going to be the one who doesnât play the game. And, of course, sheâs going to be pilloried for it, which will be heartbreaking, but sheâs never going to play the game.â
âShe is a bold and unselfconscious actressâsomeone whose gift is alive on her skin and in her being. She spins it out of the air in the room.â âMERYL STREEP
Lawrence plays the disgusted canary in a corrupt coal mine while DiCaprio is a Fauci-esque character who still wants to trust that the world will take effective action. (In real life, their roles are reversed. Lawrence says she recently sent a fingers-crossed text to her climate activist friend with a link to a news story on how nuclear fusion might put the brakes on global warming. âHe put the kibosh on it pretty quickly.â) DiCaprio calls Lawrence âone of the most talented actors working today,â adding, âJenâs ability to improvise and be so in the moment at all times was amazing to witness.â On set, Lawrence would joke with her costar about their child actor histories. âLike, when he went to eat something, I yelled, âItâs sprayed!â â she says. âThey used to always tell us that when we were kids, âDonât eat that. Itâs sprayed.â â They didnât want the young actors eating the props. âYou only find out when you get older that thereâs no such thing as spray.â
In an email, Streep marvels at the duoâs differing approaches to the work. âShe is a bold and unselfconscious actressâsomeone whose gift is alive on her skin and in her being. In that, she is different from Leo, for whom the struggle is part of the job, who relishes wrestling with it, and whose work is serious and analytic and intense. She spins it out of the air in the room. I am sort of in awe of both of them.â Lawrence says she had one real goal on the set of the movie: âMy biggest concern was I did not want to annoy Meryl Streep. Thatâs my worst nightmare. So, I will only speak if spoken to, and I will be the least annoying person in the room.â McKay says Lawrence was deeply unsure she could trust herself to play it cool. âShe just kept saying, âIâm going to be quiet. I wonât speak.â Meryl Streep shows up and Jen comes over to me like sheâs a 12-year-old and is like, âWhat do I say? What do I do?â â But Streep immediately pulled her into her generous orbit by showing her Zillow house listings. âAnd now I would say sheâs my best friend,â jokes Lawrence.
So much of Donât Look Upâs biting comedy comes from McKayâs deeply recognizable send-up of our polarized society. In the film, the far right insists that all the comet hysteria is snowflake fearmongering; the left flounders in a state of smug and impotent panic, hoping for traction at preening celebrity events like the Last Concert to Save the World. Thereâs a scene in the movie when Lawrenceâs character returns home to her parents, looking for a soft place to fall. âYour father and I support the jobs that the comet will bring,â her mother says. (The good news for Lawrenceâs beleaguered character is that she does get to make out with TimothĂ©e Chalametâs street punk. âIt would have been a lot more enjoyable,â says Lawrence, âif you werenât seeing your aging self next to a 17-year-old in a two-shot who weighs 100 pounds soaking wet. Iâve never felt fatter and older in my life.â)
In November 2020, Lawrence uploaded a rare video to social media that showed her running up and down the Boston street she lived on during production in her pajama pants, screaming with joy at the news of Joe Bidenâs win. She was raised to be a God-fearing Republican by her conservative Kentucky parents and a state culture that keeps Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell in charge.
I ask her if her folks have forgiven their daughter for being her liberal Hollywood self. âI donât know,â she says. âI donât really know.â Has she forgiven her roots? Sheâs silent for a bit before she scrunches up her face and gives me the finger. âYeah, I meanâŠ. No, there were certain things, in the Trump presidency, there are certain things that happened over the last five years that are unforgivable. And itâs been wild. Itâs wild to disagree on things you thought you would neverâŠthereâs no way weâre going to disagree on this in 2021. White supremacy. Attacking the Capitol. Nazis being the bad guys. Or just, science. I donât know.â
Will her parents see her new movie? âYeah,â she says, considering. âYeah.â
Would they see it if she werenât in it? âYeah,â she says, following it up with a big wink.
I tell her that, as somebody who lives in Texas, I honor her conflicting feelings about home-state politics. âWell,â she says, âif you ever need a schma-shmortion, you can come visit me.â Itâs a big swing. We both burst into laughter, and she covers her mouth. âNow Iâm anxious.â
Thereâs a moment when Lawrence and I are talking about Donât Look Up that strikes me deeply. I mention the fact that her name appears first in the opening credits, hanging on the screen a half second before being joined by Leonardo DiCaprioâs. She gets a pleased little smile on her face, before saying, âI was number one on the call sheet, soâŠ.â It is a satisfying laugh. Then my own dregs of social conditioning, this nauseating impulse as a female to tiptoe around matters of influence, prompt me to ask, âAre you okay with that?â
âWith being number one on the call sheet? Yeah. And I thought [the credits] should reflect that. Leo was very gracious about it. I think we had something called a Laverne & Shirley, which is this billing they invented where itâs an equal billing. But I guess maybe somewhere down the line, I kicked the stone further, like, âWhat if it wasnât equal?â â
Thereâs something inspiring about a professional woman owning her worth. She points to the example of Scarlett Johansson taking on Disney over money from Black Widow. âI thought that was extremely brave,â she says. âIf two parties understand how a movie is going to be released, and then it turns out that one of the parties did not agree to that, thatâs unfair. She was also crowning! She was giving birth.â
Polsky tells me that Lawrenceâs self-deprecation and humor is her friendâs âsaving grace and superpower. In a social contextânot to feed the âSheâs just a regular galâ tropeâher self-deprecation makes others instantly comfortable. In a professional context, it yields an underestimation of her aptitude. Male executives donât anticipate that an actress and walking GIF can probe every deal point on the table until theyâre dripping in sweat. The bitch is deft.â
Itâs only after our first interview that I learn that Lawrence was paid $25 million for the movie, compared to DiCaprioâs $30 million. In other words, she made 83 cents to his dollar. These figures are in startling line with Bureau of Labor Statistics data that showed annual earnings for women working full-time in 2020 were 82.3 percent of menâs. That gap is tragically wider for women of color in Hollywood and beyond.
When I talk to Lawrence next, I point out the bitter irony of her making less than the man below her on the call sheet. âYeah, I saw that too,â she says, choosing her words carefully. âLook, Leo brings in more box office than I do. Iâm extremely fortunate and happy with my deal. But in other situations, what I have seenâand Iâm sure other women in the workforce have seen as wellâis that itâs extremely uncomfortable to inquire about equal pay. And if you do question something that appears unequal, youâre told itâs not gender disparity but they canât tell you what exactly it is.â
Some things that are bringing Lawrence joy lately: Autumn in New York. The city opening up again. âBeing able to take Ubers again without feeling youâre going infect your family and die.â The pumpkin bread she made yesterday and took out of the oven in time so that the center stayed gooey. Sports and farm animal videos on TikTok. (Days after our interview, sheâll text me a video of a golden retriever puppy frolicking with his horse friend, writing, âI meanâŠâ) Jennifer Coolidgeâs performance in White Lotus: âTalk about somebody who knew the fucking assignment.â Bravoâs Real Housewives. Of a Potomac star, she asks, âWhat do you think about Candiaceâs husband being her manager? Ugh, that is not a healthy dynamic.â The door behind her rattles, making her laugh. âWhat if Cooke just came in here like, âI want to be your manager!â
Lawrence could write a dissertation on the mesmerizing toxicity of Salt Lake City housewife Jen Shah. âShe has the strongest case of personality disorder Iâve ever seen in my life,â she says. âYou know those people who donât take any accountability everâto where you almost feel jealous? Total lack of accountability, lack of shame. Iâm almost like, How dare you? I lie in bed worrying about accidentally hurting someoneâs feelings, worrying about everything. Thatâs probably why it burns my biscuit so much.â
âIf I was at a dinner party, and somebody was like, âOh, my God, youâre expecting a baby,â I wouldnât be like, âI canât talk about that.â But every instinct in my body wants to protect their privacy for the rest of their lives.â
Lawrence had been so worried before this interview. She felt awkward about not wanting to talk more about her baby. And her husband. And the sweet future they hope to build together in private. âI did have this whole fantasy of just doing the whole interview off the record.â Early into our conversation, I told her she seemed like she had a gun to her head. âOh, my God, Iâm so sorry,â she said. âItâs not your fault.â
Thereâs a scene in Donât Look Up where DiCaprioâs panicked scientist begs a glib reporter to take seriously the need for actual engagement with each other. âWe donât always have to be clever or charming or likable!â he says. âSometimes we need to be able to say things to each other and have an honest conversation.â
So, hereâs what I say to Lawrence: She has a right to her boundaries. May they serve her and her family well. By leaving her baby out of our conversation, she has already started mothering her child.
Lawrence has to go to the bathroom again. This time she remembers to mute the recording. She smiles, her mouth making words I canât hear, and gives me a big thumbs-up on her way out of frame.
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