On a gray New York City morning, Emma Stone steps inside a quiet breakfast spot downtown, and you can feel the ions in the room begin to stir. Service, heretofore professional, notches up a tick. The manager and someone who appears to be the manager’s manager stop at our table— How are you, good to see you, what can I get you, okay, perfect, of course, right away. Everything comes right away, because it’s Emma Stone, and you or I would do the same.
Who doesn’t adore or at least admire Stone? In an acrimonious era during which it’s near impossible to achieve critical unity on any being or concept—even Stevie Wonder and sunny afternoons have their antagonists—the 36-year-old actress and producer has reached a rare altitude of public goodwill.
Maybe it’s because Stone’s really good at wha