You could argue that Gugino's vintage beauty would have made perfect sense in a re-created 1941. Then again, you could counterargue that, in losing that particular plum, she dodged not merely a bullet but a kamikaze pilot spinning toward the flight deck. "Well," says Gugino, with a faint trace of a conspiratorial smile as she dips her spoon into a little bowl of chocolate pudding, "I think it was meant to be." When people finally remember your name, after all, you want it to be for the right reasons.
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