"Whishaw’s deep, almost arrogant self-confidence as a performer tugs away from his physiognomy, which is delicate to the point of girlishness: cherry-red lips, fine fingers, hair so lushly romantic it seems to have its own built-in wind-machine. He’s often cast as an ethereal, a poet, or both—Sebastian Flyte, Bob Dylan, John Keats, Konstantin in “The Seagull”—and made a saintly, infuriating and definitive Richard II in the BBC’s “The Hollow Crown”, every trembling, diva-ish breath imbued with an iron sense of his righteous possession of the throne. Like a storybook princess, he knows how to flick a limpid gaze up at the camera with all the seductive poise of Bambi-era Diana."

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