"The more time that you spend with Cotillard, the more you realize that the two Marions are in fact two sides of the same coin. The same energy that propels her to spend four months perfecting an accent is the same thing that drives her to produce three Christmas dinners for her family. Whatever is in front of her commands her undivided attention, those big eyes filling with wonder. She speaks in a quiet, certain voice that seems unbothered by the task of persuasion or argument—it’s just for her. And it is this exact quality, a mixture of fine-antennae receptivity to her immediate environment and straight, plumb-line anchorage to some- thing deep inside of her, that makes her so riveting to watch on-screen. There’s a scene in the 2009 musical Nine in which Daniel Day-Lewis tends to Cotillard’s hair for a screen test and then disappears out of frame, leaving Cotillard alone in front of the movie camera, and the flicker of emotion on her face—like sunlight disappearing behind clouds—tells you two things: (1) that she loves him, and (2) that she will have her heart broken by him. Two entirely contrary emotions, at the same time, all without saying a word."
— from my Vogue profile of Marion Cotillard