"'She's the blonde in Scarface,' they say to me about Michelle Pfeiffer. Now her I know. She made this year's great movie entrance, descending, back to camera, in the glass elevator of a drug czar's Florida mansion, wearing a green satin evening dress that seemed about to fall off her. Rarely in a movie have I seen an actress so perfectly groomed, so coolly elegant. There hasn't been a platinum-blonde star for a long time, and I waited, fascinated, to meet her. She is on the verge of stardom. In the parlance of the industry, she is hot. She is appearing in one hot movie, has another coming out, and others await only her availability to begin shooting. 'Hello,' she said, when she arrived. 'Hello,' I replied, trying to zero in on the unfamiliar face... and then it registered: Michelle Pfeiffer is, alas, no longer blonde. She became blonde for the role. Nor is she a fashion plate. In fact, she has absolutely no interest in fashion or chic. Like Garbo, who cared nothing for such trappings either, she took on the accoutrements that went along with the part, so convincingly that I had assumed the end product was the starting point — the reason she had been cast in the first place."