雖然我沒在追，但是看起來，別人追這張圖追了很久，撿個現成的吧，不好意思。
這個髮型和髮量，一看就知道不是近照了，近照的髮量都有一點.....稀疏.....
所以只要再留長一點，應該就可以再度遮住頭皮。大家放心。
以上來自萬能的New Moon Movie。
以下來自men.style.com，是訪問的部分內文：
（本來想全貼，但是總共有十二頁！一方面實在太長、一方面一定有侵權的問題，）
（所以這裡放到第二頁就好，到連結裡去看全文吧，even better，把它整個存下來吧！）
（好精采的訪問，這一本好像應該值得買。）
a few days after we meet Robert Pattinson for the first time, we will call up his Twilight
co-star Kristen Stewart, who will say this about him:
“He can’t lie,” she says. “It makes things a little scary for him sometimes. But it’s my favorite
thing about him.”
Funny—by then, it would be our favorite thing about him, too. We spend a Tuesday afternoon
with Pattinson, in a little bakery-café on Doheny Drive, in West Hollywood, and the whole
time, he seems to be telling the truth compulsively, heedlessly, helplessly, as if he’d been shot
with a sodium pentothal dart while parking his car.
Pattinson’s other problem—he admits this early on—is that he can’t abide a conversational lull.
“I just say the first thing that comes into my head,” he said, “out of nervousness. During
interviews I’m literally shitting my pants. I don’t want there to be a silence, because
I’ll start crying.”
HE’S HOT, HE’S SEXY, HE’S UNDEAD
Two years ago, Robert Pattinson was a forgotten extra in a ‘Harry Potter’ movie.
Then he got cast as a blue-balled vampire in ‘Twilight,’ the year’s kazillion-dollar movie
franchise, and every woman in America over 14 wants him.
Too bad he’s not sure he wants them
It’s December; Twilight, in which Pattinson, 22, plays an adorably tortured perma-teenage
vampire too principled to drink human blood, has been in theaters for about a month.
Long enough for it to gross more than $150 million, long enough for the studio to pull the
trigger on the first of three potential sequels by replacing director Catherine Hardwicke
with one of the guys responsible for the American Pie franchise, not long enough for Pattinson
to grasp what any of these developments mean for him, or the importance of dissembling
in the presence of reporters.
He slides into his chair, dressed all in black, with a weeks-old beard, hair crammed under a
wool cap, looking like Justin Timberlake researching an off-Broadway turn as Terry Malloy.
His clothes smell like he has recently purchased them off the back of someone less fortunate
than he. He’s just come from a big-time meeting with a director and can’t wait to tell us how
weird it was. Some guy offering him a part, maybe, in a movie so double top secret he couldn’t
tell Pattinson what it was about. “He wouldn’t say anything,” Pattinson says, “and he also
wouldn’t leave,” so Pattinson sat there and talked about himself for three hours and drank
enough coffee to make a rhino’s heart explode.
“God, I don’t remember the last time I ate,” Pattinson says.
In a vampire movie, he’d have said this with a suggestive eyebrow-wiggle, and then they’d cut
to our pallid corpse tumbling out of a Dumpster. Stupid journalist. Instead, Pattinson goes on,
filling dead air. He explains that the place he’s staying at in L.A. has a microwave, and that
he’s never had a microwave before, and that he spends a lot of time looking for new things you
can microwave. Those frozen cheeseburgers, from the store. A carrot. Did we mention that he’s
had about nineteen cups of coffee? He asks the waiter about the soup. It’s chicken vegetable.
He orders a Coke.
*****
here is what Pattinson says about getting the part of Edward the vampire in Twilight:
“I took half a Valium and then went into this thing—and all this stuff happened.”
Okay—to be fair, that’s not all he tells us. He was on the verge of quitting acting, he says.
He’d followed up what was, back then, the biggest role of his career—in Harry Potter and the
Goblet of Fire, as Cedric Diggory, sort of the haughty blond Iceman to Harry’s Maverick—by
getting fired from a play in London, where he grew up. He was in Los Angeles, crashing on his
agent’s couch, looking for an American job.
That’s all Twilight was to Pattinson, at first: an American job. He didn’t know about the cult, about the fans who’d followed Edward and Bella, his perpetually imperiled mortal lady friend, from the first book—which turned author Stephenie Meyer, a Mormon stay-at-home mom from Arizona, into the biggest publishing-industry phenomenon since Potter’s J. K. Rowling—through three increasingly thick-as-a-brick sequels. He didn’t know that as soon as the movie adaptation was announced, those Twilight fans—about 98.999 percent female and 100 percent fervent—started burning up Internet message boards with deeply felt opinions about which actors were right (and wrong, wrong, wr0ng!!!!) for the male lead. All he knew was that he couldn’t remember how to do an American accent. He was freaking out. Hence the pill.
“It was the first time I’ve ever taken Valium,” he says after a second, perhaps realizing how
this sounds. “A quarter. A quarter of a Valium. I tried to do it for another audition, and it just
completely backfired—I was passing out.” (Don’t do drugs, kids.)
He auditioned in Hardwicke’s bedroom; Hardwicke videotaped him and Stewart performing
one of the movie’s big love scenes. By then, Hardwicke had already met with hundreds of
potential Edwards. “I’d seen a zillion really cute guys,” she says. “But that was the problem.
They all looked like the super-cute kid in your high school. The prom king, or the captain
of the football team. They didn’t look like they were from another world and time.”
They did the scene. There was a vibe. Hardwicke waited a day to decide—“No matter how
much I fall in love with the person, I make myself review the tape, to make sure I wasn’t just
overwhelmed by something in the air”—but says Stewart told her, right there in the room,
“It has to be Rob.”
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