Drew Barrymore is that rarest of Hollywood creatures. She is not a Peter Pan (because heavens knows there are too many of those, Judd Apatow), but a Wendy instead. She grew up too quickly, then acted out trying to postpone adulthood, and eventually settled in a healthy maturity. I grew up with Drew, that adorable little moppet who helped E.T. phone home. She survived the early stardom, though it nearly destroyed her. Entering rehab at age 13 is a hell of a thing. But she came out the other end and not only survived but thrived. She took her image from cute kid to teenage sexpot to America’s sweetheart, which is no easy feat. Once you’re branded as a sex kitten, it generally sticks. For reference see Marilyn Monroe. But Drew came out of that David Letterman flasher, penciled-in eyebrows, month-long marriages period and transitioned into adorable again with “Never Been Kissed” and the rest. Today, she is what Kate Hudson wishes she was: Hollywood’s resident free spirit, go-to romantic and all-around likable gal.
Making her even more likable, of course, is her support of the gays. She has discussed her bisexuality before, which seems to come from a place of genuine openness and not crass exploitation. She has an irrepressible energy and an earnest silliness about her. And she is now thoroughly in control of her own destiny, preparing for the release of her directorial debut “Whip It.” Not that she can’t still break out the sexy. Like, say, her all-straddling, all-kissing, all-sexifying photoshoots with Ellen Page. Sure, it’s a clever publicity ploy. But what makes it great is that you can tell from the way Drew is pinning Ellen that she has done it before. Not necessarily with Ellen (though that’s how it plays out in my head), but before and in private – and for real. Happy weekend, all.