It’s a well-documented fact that actor Tom Hardy is drawn to any movie role allowing him to sexily mumble from behind some sort of face covering, leaving many to lament the loss of hours we could have spent ogling his face sacrificed to simply ogling his body. But as mandatory face-covering rules in cities introduce the problem of exuding personality without the benefit of a visible face, it’s Tom Hardy’s time to fucking shine. His characters in Mad Max: Fury Road, Venom, and The Dark Knight Rises leave Hardy uniquely prepared for the daily reality of coronavirus facemasks and the resultant challenge of transmitting feelings to strangers using one’s eyeballs and body language.
But while it’s evident Tom loves masks and wears them extremely well, recent shots of Hardy grocery shopping in London with his wife Charlotte Riley present a new Hardy mystery: Why does he hate bags?
Though it is undeniable that facemask-Hardy at a corner bodega is a rare treat in these dark times—and he looks like he might be going to a sexy, sexy war rather than home to make soup—he did also make, by my count, at least five trips back and forth to transport several handfuls of produce from grocer to car. Perhaps Tom’s personal origin story includes a terror of large carry-alls stemming from a childhood duffle accident, leaving him with only one true weakness—a slight aversion to convenience.
Or perhaps he is only walking an endless loop to and from the greengrocer’s because why the fuck not. Like everyone else, he’s got nothing but time. Why not lovingly tuck his asparagus into the cozy boot of an SUV, stalk by stalk, over the course of an afternoon? Either way, I am happy to watch two inches of Tom Hardy face and a couple of feet of Hardy arm circle that parking lot all day, as I also have nowhere to be.