Bright Star, the potentially-awesome, potentially-ludicrous Keats biopic, premiered last night at New York's Paris Theatre. The results? Let's just say they fell short of the Romantics' ideal. Unless that included see-through bodysuits without bras, that is!

Ben Whishaw plays Keats. Yes. Verily. And yeah, I rejected working in Keats quotations in every caption. I accept your thanks from afar.

Abbie Cornish looks stunning. And I hope she appreciates the fact that I once wrote a really mediocre paper in college defending Fanny Brawne against the interpretation of some long-dead literary critic. I'm guessing she doesn't though.

Jennifer Missoni wears peacock. Not in the top hat-goggles-frosted-tips-Mystery sense.

Sofia Coppola demonstrates a look I like to call "Miami Frump" which is much easier to pull off when one is Marc Jacobs' muse.

Well. Damien Fahey and Grasie Mercedes look remarkably pleased with themselves for two people who are about to sit through a bodice-ripper about a poet with TB.

Lynn Collins' skirt reminds me of the awesome ballad "Raggle Taggle Gypsies," which is the only silver lining here. That song, by the way, is allegedly based upon the real story of Lady Jane Hamilton, wife of John Kennedy, 6th Earl of Cassilis, who ran off with an outlaw, and was imprisoned as a result.

Jessica Chastain makes a strong case for the enduring appeal of the LBD.

Roberta Armani, meanwhile, looks exactly as you'd expect one who bears that name to look.

Anika Noni Rose's top has apparently caught on a nail and the bottom half has unraveled. Bummer. I hate it when that happens.

If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Fran Drescher is benefiting from this maxim right now.

Doesn't Jane Campion look exactly as you'd imagine? Okay, maybe I didn't imagine the peace sign. But I can work with it.

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