Gideon Adlon
by Guest User
DIOR dress and necklace.
After watching blockers, the purportedly “raunchy” sex comedy about three girls with a pact to lose their virginity on prom night, I did not expect to walk away with such a heartwarming sense of nostalgia. Along with incisively and hilariously portraying the first blundering steps into sexuality, Blockers taps into something universal and often ignored by the media—the bond of female friendship that buoys you through the terrifying first steps into adulthood.
“It’s so refreshing to see this kind of film from a female perspective,” says Gideon Adlon, who sits comfortably cross-legged on a couch after an early morning photo-shoot in downtown Los Angeles. Blockers is a “female-driven film,” she elaborates, describing director Kay Cannon as “badass” and “motherly”—two words I wish were used in conjunction more often. Adlon is a breakout talent as the character Sam: an edgy, whip-smart high school student who is burdened by her queer inclinations and an absentee father who shows up unannounced on prom night.
VALENTINO dress.
Adlon is charming and laid-back, with a dry wit and assertiveness that transcends that of a typical 21-year-old. And she’s definitely not afraid to speak her mind: “Why the fuck are there double standards? If a girl wants to have sex on prom night, why is she deemed quote-unquote ‘slutty’? With a guy it’s all just high-fives!” For the three friends—Julie, Kayla, and Sam—the #sexpact secures the solidarity of their friendship, while the boys they plan to sleep with are almost an afterthought. “Losing your virginity should be a powerful feeling,” she says, laughing. “It’s like getting your period. Like, ‘Cheers to the loss of our innocence!’”
Sam’s rocky relationship with her father struck a personal chord for Adlon. “My dad left when I was twelve and went to Europe and started a whole new family,” she tells me. “I’ve had those moments where, despite all the shit that’s happened... I’m going to be friendly with him.” Adlon speaks on this subject without hesitation or a hint of self-pity, revealing a hard-earned wisdom for someone her age. She cracks a wry smile. “So, I’m usually cast as the girl with daddy problems.” She laughs and pivots the conversation to her upcoming project, Mustang—a forthcoming drama from director Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre. “Matthias Schoenaerts plays my father, and he’s in prison for...a very terrible crime. I start visiting—for a reason that I’m not going to name—and we kind of start rekindling a relationship.” Noticeably excited, but careful not to reveal too much, she describes her intense one-on-one scenes with Schoenaerts as “one of the best experiences of my career so far.”
GUESS t-shirt, JILL STUART skirt, and DIOR necklace.
As the daughter of actress and director Pamela Adlon, Adlon’s long-time proximity to the industry has elicited varied interpretations in the media. “I’ve read some pretty mean comments. People are like ‘Oh yeah, giving the role to some young Hollywood girl with famous parents...’” Visibly frustrated, she clarifies, “I wasn’t raised in the spotlight. We had a normal childhood. I grew up in the valley, I’m a little valley rat,” she tells me, cracking a smile. “My family taught me that it’s not a game, it’s not about Instagram followers, it’s not about the money—it’s about finding something that you love and making it your own.”
I ask Adlon how it feels to see her face plastered on billboards throughout Hollywood and Manhattan: she finds it amusing but it’s clear she’s more concerned with showing face in a different sense. “Everyone just acts as a keyboard warrior over social media, but they’re not going out there and making the change. You have to show face.” The landscape of social consciousness has changed dramatically in the past year, but as young women finding our voices in the wake of Trump’s election, it still feels like an uphill battle. “We just keep moving forward while the world seems to be turning backwards. It’s like a tidal wave—we just have to keep going.” Tinted with that distinctive Adlon rasp, she voices a resounding prelude for our rising generation.
VALENTINO dress.
Written by Andie Eisen
Photographed by Dana Boulos
Styled by Sara Paulsen
Hair: Dritan
Makeup: Sarah Uslan