In a move that speaks to the extent to which famous people stop being individuals and start being part of a conglomerated project that includes their images, Deadline notes that Elvis Presley Enterprises and Muhammad Ali Enterprises, which include the rights to the images of both men, may be headed to the market. If still images of Presley and Ali could generate $60 million a year, it’s intriguing to think what they could generate with technology that could bring them back to life as shadows. What would nostalgia concerts featuring Presley rake in? What about technology that lets a promoter put on a fight between Ali and Manny Pacquiao?

The company that resurrected Tupac Shakur in the form of a hologram for a memorable 2011 concert, Digital Domain Media Group, actually planned to create a similar digital replica of Presley before it filed for bankruptcy in 2012. And bringing the dead back to reclaim their former glory, with all the profits going to the corporations that own their images, isn’t the only way that this sort of technology could be valuable–and very disconcerting.

If the prospect of someone owning your likeness, your expressions, your voice, and the ability to manipulate those images and audio to make you do or say anything, is odd enough when you aren’t around to see it, or to verify whether or not your image is doing or saying something you’d actually do or say, it’s even more unsettling to consider what it would be like for someone to be able to do those things when you were still alive. That scenario’s precisely what’s at issue in a new movie making its debut at Cannes, The Congress, which combines live-action and animation to follow a fictionalized version of Robin Wright as, on advice from her agent, who believes she’s wasted her career, she allows herself to be digitized and manipulated, in part so she can afford to spend time with her son, who appears to be somewhere on the autism spectrum. Even without the trippy animation, the trailer gets at how disconcerting it must be to see someone, apparently yourself, do things that you haven’t done–and that you’d never do:

Reporter Stacy Lambe captured this terrific moment from the red carpet at the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute Gala, in which Academy Award-winner Jennifer Lawrence jumps into the frame of cameras taking pictures of Sarah Jessica Parker, who, in keeping with the event’s punk theme, wore a daring, mohawked Philip Treacy headpiece to the Ball. Marion Cotillard is caught in the .Gif laughing, and we laughed with her. It’s the perfect distillation of why Jennifer Lawrence has become a Hollywood sweetheart—and why so much contempt is heaped on actresses like Anne Hathaway and Gwyneth Paltrow:

What’s striking about Lawrence in this image is the gap between her decorum and her self-presentation. She’s being goofy, and to an extent, she’s even making fun of one of her fellow attendees at the Met Ball. She’s displaying an awareness that there’s more than one way to win the Met Ball, and more than one set of observers watching the event. While Parker is posing for the credentialed photographers on the red carpet, Lawrence is disrupting their shots and mugging for us. It’s a savvy act of complicity, an acknowledgement that the event is ridiculous.

But it’s also one that lets Lawrence have it both ways. She’s at the Met Ball, after all, rather than staying home because she’s rather be doing something else, or out of active protest at the dog and pony show. Not only did Lawrence attend, she did so in a Christian Dior dress and a birdcage veil that wasn’t exactly in keeping with the evening’s punk theme. Maybe it’s less conformist for Lawrence to rock Hollywood glamour than to hew to the directions she was given for the night, but it’s not as if she was taking any risks to her image by rocking a ball gown, either. But unlike Anne Hathaway, who puts on a prim-and-proper demeanor to match her Prada (nice girls wear it as well as the Devil), Lawrence is careful to obscure the extent to which she cares what anyone thinks of her in a layer of quotations about going to see New York theater phenomenon Sleep No More and going to Walmart.

Ultimately, Lawrence is playing out an old game in a new medium. She’s a screwball heroine come to life, a woman whose behavior breaks the codes of her class and gender without ever becoming genuinely challenging or disconcerting. Sometimes that characters is annoying, a la Katharine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby. And sometimes she’s incisive and cutting, like Barbara Stanwyck’s con woman in The Lady Eve, who, in a famous speech about high-status women who are falling all over themselves to be introduced to her mark, a brewery heir played by Henry Fonda, is effectively serving up the same critique of women who play by the rules that Lawrence’s photobomb did:

These figures aren’t unimportant, and their behavior and their observations can stretch the limits of acceptable female behavior. But the extent to which they play by the rules is just as important as the small ways in which they break them. Stanwyck employs the same tools that the women she makes fun of do to land the exact same man—she’s just better at it, and in her slinky, solar-plexus-baring dress, sexier than the handkerchief-dropping battleaxes who are her competition. Hepburn may be a goofball, but she’s still a rich girl who ends up resolving her romantic quandaries via philanthropy. And it’s possible to appreciate Jennifer Lawrence the same way. Whether she’s performing or not, her performance at the Met Ball and elsewhere is a lot of fun. But that doesn’t make her a genuine rebel against Hollywood norms. And as long as we don’t mistake a screwball performance for a revolution, we might as well enjoy Lawrence for what she is.

Forbes’ annual list of the highest-paid actresses is out, and three things about it stand out.

1. The ceiling’s not that high: Kristen Stewart is the highest-paid actress on the list with $34.5 million for the entire year. Robert Downey Jr. will make $50 million from The Avengers alone this year. Even women who anchor well-established commercial franchises aren’t as valuable as men who help anchor comparable properties.

2. There’s not a woman of color to be found: Jennifer Anniston’s the lowest-paid woman on the list with $11 million. I’d love to know what Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer, both of whom were nominated for Academy Awards, made.

3. A lot of the money on this list wasn’t actually paid to the relevant actresses in salary for movies they made: A lot of these actresses’ incomes come from perfume contracts, endorsement deals, and residuals. That’s terrific, and it would be wonderful if more actresses, like Cameron Diaz, were getting rich backend deals. But it’s worth remembering that these actresses’ salaries aren’t as high as the overall figures quoted here.

I’ve written in the past that perhaps the greatest sign of Hollywood’s racism is the deeply boring white actors it gives chance after chance when compared to the wildly talented black actors it refuses to aggressively promote and develop. But the industry is determined to keep giving these fellows chances. So not to get all Regina George about it, but here are five boring white dudes I wish Hollywood would stop trying to make happen. Because to some degree or another, it’s never going to happen. I’m not saying these men don’t deserve to find work, or that they’re bad people (with one exception). But if Hollywood has limited capital and advertising dollars to spend, it could be spending it more interesting places.

1. David Lyons: There is no penance too great to be done for The Cape, NBC’s epically awful attempt at a superhero story. There’s nothing wrong with trying to make a show that looks and feels like old-timey comics, but it doesn’t work when a stump is standing in for your lead actor. But Lyons is getting another shot, in the J.J. Abrams show that people are still insisting is about “a world where all forms of energy have mysteriously cdased to exist.” I guess from one ludicrous premise to the next?

2. Alex Pettyfer: Need a generic-looking dude for your adaptation of a book that came out of James Frey’s Young Adult fiction factory? For your silly remake of Beauty and the Beast? Pettyfer is your dude, as long as you don’t mind him acting like a diva on-set (or the rumors that he stalks his ex-girlfriends). Bland handsomeness is a dime a dozen. If only Hollywood was willing to jettison the bland jerks, and recognize that they can get bland personalities to match, and at least get to neutral.

3. Jason O’Mara: To be fair, Terra Nova had problems other than its totally generic leading man, including expensive special effects paired with a total lack of careful thought about what to do with its promising concept. But O’Mara didn’t exactly bring anything special or original to the party. But never fear: of course he’s getting another shot, this time, in a new show from CBS about former Las Vegas Mayor Ralph Lamb.

4. Sam Worthington: Perhaps the most egregious example on this list, Worthington’s the face of two franchises—Avatar and the Titans movies, despite an utter lack of a personality or much in the way of a range of facial expressions. Neither franchise is particularly dependent on Worthington’s performance, but man I’d like a more interesting actor to get at least a bit of the credit for carrying them.

5. Zac Efron: Yeah, I know, there’s the teen and tween factor. But strip Efron of his trademark swoop of hair and the opportunity to sing overblown songs on the Disney channel, and it’s not particularly clear what his appeal is or his talents are. Sure, there’s a viable romantic comedy market out there, but people like Channing Tatum, who have actual personalities, might have an up on Efron there. We ladies? Not stupid.