Leftovers (38 page)

Then one day, I was so bored of people telling me how brilliant the soundtrack from
Drive
was, that I decided to watch the damn film, just so I could tell them they were wrong. And they were wrong! The soundtrack is monotonous and whiny, I’m sorry, it is.

But they were right about Ryan.

When I revealed to my now ex-boyfriend that I had a late-onset crush on Ryan Gosling, he said something rather insulting about Ryan. I can barely bring myself to say exactly what that something was it is so patently ridiculous, but still…he said that Ryan Gosling…give me strength now…he said that Ryan Gosling
looks
like Rodney Trotter in a denim jacket
.

Seriously? I’m sure he was just trying to get me back for the countless times I’ve said that Rose Byrne is average-looking. It’s hard not to be jealous sometimes, I admit it. (Of course Rose is a beauty). But still, Ryan as Rodney Trotter? I Really Don’t Think So.

Nonetheless, it did strike me as strange that this random Canadian had gone from Disney Mickey Mouse Club child actor, via years of steady, stable acting in interesting, indie roles, to suddenly BOOM! The Sexiest Man on the Planet. So I decided to investigate the development of Ryan’s hotness. Maybe in doing so, I could find myself a geeky ex-Mickey Mouser and mould him into my own private Ryan.

Having obsessively studied the oeuvre de Gosling (not the worst homework, by the way, better than quadratic equations), I am now in a position to report back on what are the key eight films in his repertoire. Here for you now are my findings. You’re welcome.

Plot: Ryan plays Leland P Fitzgerald, a very sad, gentle teen, who is in love with the girl from
Donnie Darko
. He commits a terrible crime, though possibly not as terrible a crime as the film’s scriptwriter. The plot is unconvincing.

Hot: If you had to bet a fiver on which actor in this movie would go on to become a bona fide heartthrob, you’d almost definitely place your money on Chris Klein from
American Pie
’s broad shoulders, rather than the young Ryan who stars. You would barely recognise this reedy Ryan with his thatch of murky brown hair as the same Ryan from the shower scene in
Crazy Stupid Love
, and yet they are one and the same. At no point in this film is Ryan hot, though he is endearing.

Plot: Super-shmaltzy love story about a young couple falling in love, told in flashback. Ryan plays Noah, who is desperately, unwaveringly in love with Rachel McAdams, whose snobbish parents don’t approve of young Ryan because he is a simple, working-class lad. You will be moved to tears by the end, whether you like it or not. Watch with ice cream.

Hot: An interesting film from a transitional hotness point of view. At the start you’re still thinking
I don’t get it, he’s skinny, a bit weedy, boyish, lanky, his lips are a little thin
and then suddenly POW! He grows a BEARD. He drinks a little too much BEER. He gets ANGRY. He makes things out of WOOD. And he becomes H-O-T. He becomes A MAN.

Plot: Complicated psychological thriller, almost impossible to follow at times. Equally distracting (along with the holes in the plot) are Ewan McGregor’s many pairs of badly cropped trousers. Ryan plays Henry Letham, a psychologically troubled art student, who seeks help from a shrink –
or does he
?

Hot: Ryan’s hair is often dirty in this film, and in a few shots he has a disturbing touch of the Macaulay Culkins, before Macaulay turned to the dark side. Gosling still looks way better than McGregor and his dumb trousers; but not better enough to justify the 99 minutes of your life you just kissed goodbye. Avoid.

Plot: Extremely entertaining thriller, pitting Ryan as hotshot southern lawyer, Willy Beachum, against a psychotic wife-murderer played by Anthony Hopkins. Lots of twists and turns, and great casting, including a sterling performance by Rosamund Pike, whose hair looks brilliant.

Hot: Ryan’s character is charming, cocky and on the side of good. He looks supremely handsome throughout, wears some sharp suits, and even manages to carry off a diamond and gold lucky horseshoe ring. If you watch closely there is a shower scene, and a work-out scene, but you see nothing, damn it, NOTHING.

Plot: Heartfelt, painful story of a couple’s relationship and its deterioration over time. This film is ferociously depressing, but not necessarily in a bad way – it feels entirely authentic. Besides, if my relationship with Ryan Gosling was breaking down, I too would be ferociously depressed.

Hot: Flashback Ryan is super-hot as Dean, particularly when he woos Michelle Williams, and serenades her with a ukulele while she dances in a shop doorway. As life and alcohol take their toll, Ryan’s looks go to pot – his hair suffers terribly – and yet he remains hot because a) he loves his wife so much, b) he looks like he’s a great shag, and c) he is Ryan Motherfucking Gosling.

Plot: Ryan plays Stephen Meyers, a staff member working for would-be presidential candidate George Clooney. As one of the key team members in charge of spin, Ryan gets embroiled in a potential scandal and has to take care of business.

Hot: One of the reasons Ryan is so fiendishly sexy is that he is very good at playing intelligent characters and therefore one assumes (rightly or wrongly), that he must be intelligent in real life. His cleverness in this film is underlined by accessories, namely, some rather fine dark-rimmed, non-ironic spectacles. He even wears them in bed, while typing on a laptop,
that
is how clever he is. Not just a very pretty face. Also, note how his eyes study Marisa Tomei’s features in the early scene where he is flirting with her. Imagine for a moment that you are Marisa Tomei. Good, right? Now imagine that Ryan is actually Nicholas Lyndhurst. No longer good.

Plot: Ryan plays Jacob Palmer, a serial womaniser, who decides to help Steve Carrell rediscover his manhood after Carrell’s wife asks for a divorce. A charming, funny, silly movie, with excellent casting. Interesting to note that the girl who plays the babysitter came to fame in
America’s Next Top Model
, cycle 11. Who knew?

Hot: Ryan looks very, very hot throughout, but in particular: the scene at the mall where he’s wearing shades and eating a slice of pizza; the naked scene in the shower where Steve Carrell’s head is sadly covering Ryan’s crotch; the scene where he takes his shirt off and reveals his insane body to Emma Stone.

Plot: Ryan plays Driver (correct, no name allocated to his character. Poor The Ryan). He is very good at…driving! And so makes a living in Los Angeles as a stunt driver, with some dodgy business on the side. Then he meets Carey Mulligan and things start to go wrong. Violent – avoid if you don’t like eyeballs being pierced with forks.

Hot: Arguably the hottest example of hotness to date. This is not just because of the tight t-shirts Ryan sports throughout. Nor is it solely because the director does an excellent job of filming Ryan at angles that showcase his incredibly straight and pretty nose. More than anything, it is because his character is so damn silent. What could be more attractive than a strong, quiet man? He never whines, he barely even talks. He is the opposite of neurotic; he concentrates, and he takes care of business. And then there’s that kiss, in the lift, obviously, that kiss…

While undertaking the extensive research behind this filmography, I happened to visit the cinema to watch
Silver Linings Playbook
and realised something rather disconcerting: I fancy Bradley Cooper 3% more than I fancy Ryan Gosling, which actually breaks the laws of science, as I didn’t think I could fancy anyone more than I fancy Ryan. It was too late to rewrite this book and change all the references from Ryan to Bradley. Nonetheless, some consolation was to be found in the fact that Bradley and Ryan star together in
The Place Beyond The Pines
, which is coming soon to a cinema or computer near you, and also stars the rather average-looking Rose Byrne.

A massive thank you to my first draft readers – Belinda K, Priya B, Ann F, Dalia B, Keren B, Michelle G, Anna T, Ben K, Sophie S and Kerry W – for your ever-constructive feedback, given in double quick time (apart from you, Little Raynus).

To my editor Claire B, for immense patience and encouragement, and Becke P and the entire team at Avon for all your hard work; and Becky T at William Morris for doing such a good job.

And to all my other friends who have given me endless love and support in a pretty tough year. If I thanked you already in
Pear Shaped
, I’ll just say ditto; trees don’t grow on trees and all that:

Alex E-W – for investing so much time in cutting out little photos from the colour printer and finding new places to hide them, and for dancing the Annabel’s dance better than any hooker ever could.

Ana S – for the Spanish lesson.

Andrew H – for being one of the good guys.

Anna P – for gin and jam, what more could a girl ask for?

Cassie S – master chef, dance partner extraordinaire, reorganiser of kitchen drawers with or without permission. The secrets of The Notebook are safe with me. I mean, it’s not like I’d ever put them in a book or anything…

Chris and James – for Frandrew.

Dom – the best eyes in the business.

Harriet J – for amazing attention to detail, and for helping me through the hardest times.

James H – you said you wanted to be in my book, so now you are in my book. Happy? (P.S. that beard
totally
suits you).

Jinesh P – for the many, many coffees.

Henry F – for such a valiant effort.

Jenny K – for never failing to make me laugh.

Kathryn F – for being so lovely, generous and supportive, always.

Mark L – for the rooftop memories.

Massi – for the Italian lessons.

P-Hill – for putting up with my Ryan fixation, and never forcing me south of the river.

Polly C – for letting me use so many of your beautiful things.

Rachel G – for being there, always.

Ruth S – for helping me to feel un-lonely at the wedding.

Susie A – for generously granting me permission to name a character Susie. Next book is all about the goats.

Toby F – who is way more attractive than Ryan Gosling.

And finally to my mum and dad, for surviving such a hard year with so much courage and strength. x

Stella Newman is the author of
Pear Shaped
. She lives in London and is a freelance copywriter and keen amateur cook. She is currently writing her third novel. She blogs about restaurants, food and writing at www.stellanewmansblog.blogspot.com.

Pear Shaped

Two girls walk into a bar. There is no punchline.

I’m the girl on the left in the wildly inappropriate black and white spotty summer dress. It is the snowiest February in thirty-eight years but I flew back from a month in Buenos Aires three days ago and this tan ain’t going to waste.

A month in Buenos Aires: sounds glamorous? Ok: a month in a £6 a night hostel in the Boedo barrio – think Kilburn with 98% humidity. No air con, no overhead lighting, shared showers. I’m thirty-three. I earn okay money. I don’t like sharing showers, not least with 18-year-old Austrians proclaiming Wiener Blut the greatest Falco album ever released. Wieners aside, Laura and I have the time of our lives.

Laura is the girl on the right in the bar. Best friend, tough crowd, northerner. She’s wearing a polo neck and a woolly hat. Together we look ridiculous; we don’t care.

It is one of those evenings. Whether it’s the outfits, the tans or the sociability that a snowy Friday night in London brings, we end up being the epicentre of it all. One guy, Rob, has been trying to impress me for the last twenty minutes. He’s too pretty for my taste and he’s spouting off about knowing Martin Scorsese’s casting director.

‘I can see you playing a gangster’s moll in that dress,’ he says. ‘Those big green eyes. Real curves.’

I laugh. I’m a size 10, with tits and an arse, and the girl he’s abandoned at the bar talking to his mate is one of those girls you can count the vertebrae of through her silk shirt.

‘Are your eyes real?’ he says.

‘No, they’re mint imperials, I paint the irises on every morning to match my shoes,’ I say.

‘I like your brushwork,’ he says, smirking.

‘Your girlfriend’s getting pissed off,’ says Laura.

‘She’s with my mate,’ says Rob, fiddling with his watch. ‘Actually, do you girls want a drink? Two more margaritas?’ He heads to the bar. Before he’s even back there, his mate, who is less pretty and far more my type, heads towards us.