I met Kristen Stewart somewhat unexpectedly. And I really liked her! I mean, she’s a cagey, cautious person; you can feel her sizing you up while she decides whether you’re an idiot or a nutjob and discerns how much she should stick to polite, neutral remarks. You might be like that, too, if you were 22 years old and the highest-paid actress in the history of Hollywood, and if you had seen an ordinary domestic spat with your boyfriend – the sort of thing a whole lot of 22-year-olds go through, if I remember correctly – become an international front-page tabloid story.
I did not ask her anything about Robert Pattinson or the current state of her love life. Because it’s not my business, and I really don’t care! So if that’s what you want to read, you might have to look elsewhere. But even in a brief and necessarily superficial conversation, I got a few flashes of real personality: Stewart is a young woman with a mischievous wit and a penchant for murmured, foul-mouthed asides who is enthusiastic about her work and also aware that her rocket-like ascension from the little-known indie ingénue of “Into the Wild” and “Adventureland” to a huge superstar has been an incredibly strange story.