My respect and admiration for Amy Adams is considerable, but I can’t see her inhabiting the deep-down aspects of Janis Joplin in the forthcoming Jean-Marc Vallee-directed biopic. Adams has been excellent at conveying quiet fortitude, determination and resolve (Margaret Keane in Big Eyes, con artist in American Hustle, wife of Phillip Seymour Hoffman in The Master, concerned nun in Doubt). But Joplin was about a combination of delicate vulnerabilty and scrappy, blues-wailing, whisky-drinking sass, and I just can’t imagine Adams really diving into that. Her speaking voice lacks that raspy, cackly-laugh quality, and she has a generally demure Southern-belle vibe that argues with the way Joplin behaved on-stage — that spunky but hurting soul-woman thing. I only know that when I heard Adams had been firmly cast as Joplin, a voice inside me said “really?”