THE VISIBLE WOMAN
Elisabeth Moss’s face, which is pale, lineless and animated, reveals everything she wants you to know and little else. Even in the ridiculously dim early evening light of the bar at the Sunset Tower Hotel in Los Angeles, her blue eyes are bright with attention.
“I find that I’m very, very good at, like, I guess some people would call it compartmentalising,” says Moss, 37, with a laugh and a lilt in her voice that makes that admission sound like an apology. Moss, who introduces herself as Lizzie, has arrived fresh from a meeting with the writers of , the dystopian Hulu drama, or June, the enslaved procreator-slash-agent of chaos on , knows her face and all the quicksilver emotions it conveys. She can communicate more with a raised eyebrow than most people can with a paragraph of dialogue. In Moss’s latest film, , a modern retelling of the H.G. Wells sci-fi novel of the same name (filmed largely in Sydney), that canvas of a face is on full display, panicked and paranoid as she plays a woman terrorised by an abusive ex-boyfriend whom no one else can see.
