It’s not an obvious movie star name, is it? For years, the most famous person to bear it was a wildly successful English TV presenter whose biggest draw was his anarchic take on Friday night telly. But this Chris Evans, one of the biggest film stars in the world, is very different, and I have the biggest crush on him.
I first saw him in Not Another Teen Movie, a 2001 parody of, you guessed it, teen movies. Then he was in 2005’s Fantastic Four, playing up his greatest gift: an affable, old-fashioned charm. Evans, 34, is from Boston, and the city’s a good metaphor for the man: solid, unflashy, still kind of earthy, despite its proximity to decadent New York. He is often compared to a puppy by admiring internet-dwellers, and you can see why: big eyes, easy smile, open warmth. He is very handsome, but not oppressively so. He’s the boy you wish had grown up next door; your best friend’s older brother, the one you reconnect and fall in love with when you’re both older and wiser.
He has spoken about anxiety issues around fame, and in that lies a vulnerability that is also the manliest thing about him: he seems morally solid but not square. More than most in his shoes, Evans oozes a weary kindness, and that is my catnip. He brings this quality to his underrated role in 2013’s Snowpiercer, but more attention-grabbing has been his portrayal of Captain America, a perfect marriage of actor and character: he’s the gentleman superhero, a man of substance built like a brickhouse. I can’t wait to see his third standalone Captain America film.
Goodness. I’m overcome.
