His “We Live In Time” Press tour has gotten insufferable.
By now, we’ve all seen it, we’ve analyzed it, we’ve talked about it with our friends: the Andrew Garfield Chicken Shop date. And maybe it’s just me and my cynical friends, but our question isn’t whether Andrew and Amelia will be the next “it” couple, but whether or not any of it is real.
Yes, a press tour is naturally unnatural. We understand that our favorite stars are performing in front of the interviewers, playing up bromances — and even the suggestions of real-life romance — and playing to the crowd. However, Andrew Garfield’s latest tool to do this is the performance of … not performing.
This is not the transparently orchestrated display of vulnerability we’ve experienced in celebrity apology videos or notes app apologies (Ashton, Mila, Justin Timberlake… we’re looking at you). Andrew Garfield’s turned the We Live in Time press tour into a masterclass on contemporary celebrity — something at the intersection of earnest and endlessly memeable. The former Spider-Man has been crying, flirting, and emoting his way through interviews while maintaining the appearance of complete spontaneity. And what we’re seeing is so nuanced that people aren’t sure whether it’s a smokescreen or simply a celebrity who is genuinely real.
Garfield is brilliant at what he does, which is — by trade — acting. But now the question is whether he’s using those skills offscreen to craft a persona tailor-made for 2024’s cultural moment. It’s deft. It’s borderline whiplash-inducing. And it’s impossible to tear your eyes away from him. Over the course of this press tour, he’s gone from the sensitive, emotionally available heartthrob who can cry on command while discussing deep grief on a podcast to pivoting to cracking dick jokes with Florence Pugh. It’s a delicate balance of vulnerability and chaos that feels like it was designed in a lab to generate viral clips and Twitter threads that analyze his “authentic” personality.
Maybe we’re falling for it. But people aren’t talking about it enough. Or discussing this hot take: that I’ve had enough.
Garfield’s performance is so perfect that it borders on suspicion. Every “unhinged” moment, from his obsession with the cursed carousel horse to his strategic use of the word “baby” when addressing Pugh. It feels like it was storyboarded by a team of social media strategists. Even his tears on the Modern Love podcast – arriving just as he’s promoting a film about love and loss – feel so perfect and so on brand that it’s gotta be marketing.
The Chicken Shop Date That Broke The Camel’s Back: A Timeline of Andrew Garfield and Amelia Dimoldenberg
Listen, I was content to let this phenomenon pass me by and indulge in this new thing I’m trying called: not taking things too seriously. Then came Garfield’s appearance on the viral Chicken Shop Date YouTube show with the host, Amelia Dimoldenberg. Ever since it aired, I’ve felt like Chicken Little, running around saying the sky is falling and love isn’t real — at least not between Andrew and Amelia.
If you haven’t watched it, you’re the only one on the planet Here’s the gist. The story begins before the pair set foot in the chicken shop on the day of filming. Over a year before, in fact. As Dimoldenberg’s show has gained more traction and high profile features — such as Keke Palmer, Ryan Reynolds, Phoebe Bridgers, Paul Mescal, Jack Harlow, Sabrina Carpenter, and more — she’s also become a red carpet mainstay. She was on the Barbie red carpet. She’s been to the Oscars. And she met Garfield for the first time at one of these events. And — according to the cameras — sparks flew instantly.
At the 2022 British GQ’s Man of the Year Awards, Dimoldenberg encountered Garfield in a routine interview where they immediately engaged in the kind of banter that would become their signature. “It’s weird what you do,” he told her, after brushing away compliments that didn’t make him feel “special.” His acknowledgment of her curated character felt fresh at the time. I’m sure I ate it up at the time, thinking: He knows who she is! He’s a fan! But in hindsight, it’s the beginning of his own performance that culminated in the fateful date that appeared on our screens earlier this month.
But before that date occurred, they met on yet another public red carpet. Just months later, the two met again at the 2023 Golden Globes. Andrew enters the interaction cackling, to which Amelia responds, “Be normal!” The banter, again, is riveting. “I don’t think we should explore this,” Garfield says later in the clip, pretending to fear their magnetism. It’s literally perfect viral fodder. And it worked. So why wouldn’t Garfield capitalize on the well-established “date” formula?
So the fateful day came in October 2024, just about two years since their first encounter. Amelia — who’s perfected the awkward first-date charm — has got her character down. But Garfield throws a wrench into her persona. Instead of playing along, he calls Amelia out on her deft performance, saying: “This is flirting, Amelia!”
But is it? His insistence that she “be real” with him is obviously not genuine in the moment — they’re both professionals doing their jobs. He doesn’t expect her to suddenly drop her professional persona for his benefit. But what made the interview so viral was his insistence that they’d work without the cameras, and that he was so real but she was the obstacle in the equation. “I feel like this should just be a practice round,” Garfield says. “I feel like we should do it again, actually. And better.”
Of course, the internet was instantly obsessed. Yet, here’s my question. Surely, if Garfield really wanted a date with Dimoldenberg that was away from public scrutiny … he would just ask her? When the cameras were off? Instead, he creates a spectacle around the idea, intentionally stoking public discourse. I don’t know what he did when the cameras stopped rolling. But what we saw was a man so keenly aware of public scrutiny that he has made his disdain for it a personality trait. But is publicly eschewing public performance its own kind of performance?
From Spider-Man to Softboy
Garfield’s performance (because that’s what it was) on the Chicken Shop Date makes me skeptical of his entire earnest and emotional persona. If he can turn it on in such a targeted way for Dimoldenberg, who’s to say he’s not doing it during the whole press tour?
This isn’t necessarily a criticism. In fact, it’s arguably genius. We’re in an era where celebrity marketing is more transparent than ever, and this is precisely why we eat it up. From Taylor Swift’s curation of her status as Miss Americana with her relationship with Travis Kelce (and Kelce’s own nepo boyfriend aspirations) to movie press tours gaining more attention than the movies themselves, it makes sense that Garfield is doing a bit. I just hate the bit in question.
Garfield has identified precisely what audiences crave in 2024: a male celebrity who can be simultaneously vulnerable and playful, serious and silly, authentic and entertaining. He’s giving us everything everywhere all at once, and everyone else is eating it up with a spoon. Glen Powell is doing it. Jacob Elordi is doing it. Even Drew Starkey is doing it. And I am so, so tired.
Yet, it’s been a long time coming. Garfield’s journey to becoming Gen Z’s emotional crush object didn’t happen overnight. From his early days as the skateboarding, Thrasher-wearing Spider-Man (the emo Peter Parker to R-Patz’s emo Batman) to his soul-bearing turn in tick, tick… BOOM!, Garfield has been steadily building a persona that straddles the line between serious actor and internet boyfriend. His role choices have consistently positioned him as a man grappling with deep feelings and moral complexities. But now he’s doing the same with the character of … himself.
The press tour for We Live in Time is a sort of victory lap for this carefully crafted persona. His chemistry with Florence Pugh – another actor known for authentic-feeling public performances – has forged a content factory of viral moments. Their dynamic plays like a professionally choreographed dance of “real” moments that’s the norm for actors portraying onscreen lovers.
The press tour has become a sort of meta-performance piece about celebrity itself. When he jokes about having dick pics on his phone or gets misty-eyed about the passage of time, he’s playing with the boundaries between public and private, calculated and spontaneous. It’s performance art masquerading as authenticity – or perhaps authenticity masquerading as performance art. At this point, even Garfield might not know.
As conversations about masculinity are increasingly polarized between Andre Tate types and Harry Styles wannabes, his persona maintains conventional attractiveness and charm while modeling emotional sensitivity and availability. It’s a combination that feels revolutionary while remaining safely marketable.
However, the question of its authenticity makes it more complex. Especially since Garfield himself is soooo keen on conversations about authenticity. This is what’s giving me the ick. Garfield reminds me of a patronizing softboy you find at every Brooklyn rooftop party.
The term “softboi” – or softboy – emerged as a descriptor for men who replace traditional masculine posturing with a performance of sensitivity and cultural sophistication. But this can often transform from refreshing to manipulative – and why I’m skeptical of Garfield’s hard-sell on his earnestness. We know what he’s selling: the movie. But the turmoil in his personal life – a recent breakup caused by his lack of political activism – might be driving him to prove that he’s a Good Guy. And something about that turns me off.
From his tearful breakdown during the Modern Love podcast to his Elmo conversation on Sesame Street to his weaponization of male vulnerability – this is a perfect distillation of how male sensitivity has become a form of cultural capital. In an era where toxic masculinity is increasingly scrutinized, the ability to cry on command while discussing art and emotion has become a valuable celebrity skill.
This isn’t to suggest that Garfield’s emotions aren’t genuine. But he wants us to see them. He wants us to identify him with them and then identify with him. His tears arrive at perfect intervals during the press tour, each breakdown carefully contextualized within discussions of art, love, and human connection. It’s method acting and it’s quite impressive. I just need us to draw the line in the sand.
If this works for Garfield as I fear it might, we’re going to see a lot more earnest celebs. And it’s going to get tiring quick. I’m not suggesting we go back to when men couldn’t show their feelings. I just don’t think a man should get so many points for doing the bare minimum. So when the sky falls and every young actor with rings and painted nails starts weeping about something fake-deep in every interview, just know I called it.