It’s because the real Brad is a real, y’know, Brad. He’s handsome enough that, when he shuts up and has a clever script, the audience fills in the gaps with an assumption of depth, but when you hear him go on at length in interviews, he’s clearly a soCAL meathead stoner breathing through his mouth.

Aggressively bronze pouting courage by way of emotive ab weariness?

Knowingly evocative? Effortless vibratory ebullience? Fuckboi dangereyes?