Amy Poehler is a bit of a hypnotist. Here she sits, eyes fixed on me, voice honeyed, wisdom forthcoming. “It is your lifelong work to be as gentle with yourself as you can,” she soothingly tells me, and only me. (There are at least five people from Disney in the room with us.) “And you’ll get bonus points if you can use on others that same tenderness you try to use on yourself.”
Of course she is like this. Poehler’s most famous work – the scrappy US government comedy Parks and Recreation; voicing the emotion of joy in Pixar’s Inside Out – has been defined by its optimism, kindness and can-do pep. Basically the kind of shtick that could get pretty annoying. But something that makes that work so charming – and, by proxy, Poehler herself – is the fly that’s always there in the ointment. Sugar comes with salt. Joy with sadness. Local councillor Leslie Knope’s Obama-era pluck with a side of righteous rage. Poehler, in conversation, is not remotely annoying. Or even upbeat in a way that feels insincere. Yes, she is quick to reach for positive reinforcement, but she couches it in fact. Sure, the world isn’t great. Sure, it’s tricky to like yourself. Sure, she says, “we’re all dealing with the very human, very messy awfulness of being alive”. But…
