Why do gorgeous gals in perfectly serviceable dresses get all dolled up for a red carpet only to stick their hands in their pockets and put on a face that screams, "I am so sorry for wearing this?"
Jessica Chastain, we're looking at you.
Honey, on the surface, the pale pink Alexander McQueen Fall 2012 gown you wore to the Cannes Film Festival opening ceremony works OK...
We've could've used a few inches off the hem and a tad more makeup, but whatever—the swooping keyhole neckline shows off your knockers to fine effect and the color works well with your porcelain skin and red hair.
All that said, you are Jessica effing Chastain! You've made Time magazine's list of most influential people of 2012. You've garnered an Oscar nom. You've built a reputation as a gal who can hold her own on a big screen against heavy hitters like Brad Pitt and Viola Davis.
And yet here you are, in sunny southern France, letting yourself get swallowed alive by a harmless pink marshmallow that just wants to make you look pretty.
By all that is holy, why?!