A few hours ago, we said that it was pretty much neck-and-neck between Marion Cotillard, Jennifer Garner, and Renee Zellweger as to who looked the best last night. After much careful scrutiny, we're of the opinion that we didn't know what the hell we were talking about back then; it's Cotillard all the way.
Not that Garner and Zellweger didn't look great. They did, truly, particularly Garner, who probably missed a nomination of her own by a hair's breadth and celebrated by going with a dark, sensuous look that risked severity -- which we're led to believe is a no-no for young nominated actresses -- but came off razor-sharp and smokin' hot. To paraphrase our good pal Lindsay Lohan, she was like "Yeah, motherfuckers, I'm fine."
So how did Cotillard win our hearts? Well, perhaps unfairly, by winning the Oscar. Have you watched this moment carefully? (You can, down below.) We're not talking about her speech, you understand, but just before she gets to the microphone. Those few seconds where, as she climbs the steps to the stage, her hands first are on her mouth in an expression of her shock, but then she bends down and tugs at her dress -- the fabric bunching over her scissoring hips, every angle and curve of her body and that Jean-Paul Gaultier dress electric with her surprise -- and then one hand returns briefly to her lips -- is she laughing or crying? -- before both finally landing on Oscar and Forest Whitaker, those lucky bastards. You know, that moment. It's a sweet, triumphant, and utterly unintentional moment of erotic charge. And we're not sure if anyone else could have brought that to the proceedings.
And for that, she is our Crush of the Week.