In the 1990’s, Hunt was a household name with her breakout TV performance in the hit comedy series Mad About You, where she starred opposite Paul Reiser, who later starred in the Netflix series, Stranger Things.
She won four back-to-back Emmy Awards and three Golden Globes for her comedic portrayal of one half of a newlywed couple. She also directed some episodes, including the series finale in 1999.
Speaking with People, Hunt shared about her daughter and Reiser, “… My daughter loves Stranger Things so now when he calls she’s excited. She’s never seen an episode of Mad About You but she’s super psyched about Stranger Things!” Hunt has one daughter, born in 2004, with Matthew Carnahan, her partner of 16 years.
Hunt is also known for playing a storm chaser in the adrenaline-fueled movie Twister (1996), her Academy Award-winning role in 1997’s As Good as it Gets, starring next to Hollywood royalty, Jack Nicholson, and 2000’s Cast Away and What Women Want.
More recently, she plays a journalist in BBC’s World on Fire and has a recurring character on Blindspotting. She’s also loaned her skills as a director to shows like Californication, House of Lies and This is Us.
In 2021, she revealed she was working on a Twister reboot with a diverse cast of storm chasers “from HBCU [historically Black college and university],” but the story was rejected.
“I tried to get it made,” Hunt said in 2021. “I was going to direct it… We could barely get a meeting, and this is in June of 2020 when it was all about diversity. It would have been so cool.”
Universal Pictures is releasing Twisters, without Hunt, in July 2024.
Over the years, Hunt, who’s collected numerous awards and nominations, has been a staple in Hollywood culture with her timeless performances and beauty.
As one of the most recognizable faces in Hollywood–a face that through the years has matured, she’s recently been the topic of many conversations.
With a career spanning more than four decades, it’s common, and expected, that there would be natural physical changes but, as a celebrity, Hunt is not immune from unfiltered opinions coming from the public.
Speculation that she had plastic surgery started after an accident in 2019, where the SUV she was a passenger, was t-boned by another car, causing it to rollover. She was briefly hospitalized but fully recovered, and within one week, she was back to work filming the limited series reboot of Mad About You.
Speaking with People about reprising her role, Hunt said, “It was a very loving piece of work. We loved it. It would be fun to work on something that’s really about love. We’ll be older though — I hope people are prepared for that. I’m not prepared for it!”
Shortly after, Radar Online, posted an article suggesting the star too much plastic surgery. In the story, she’s referred to as “ageless,” followed by “mannequin-like” and “…her expression more static than usual.”
Fans however were quick to defend her. One wrote, “I’m not an expert on spotting facelifts and that but to me Helen Hunt today still looks like Helen Hunt from Mad About You, just older. Which is what happens when 3 decades pass, people get older.” Another wrote, “I think we are so used to seeing women who have puffed up their lips and lifted both eyes and forehead, that a woman who is aging normally looks odd to us.”
Tight-lipped about the rumours that she’s had a nip and tuck to smooth the wrinkles on her face, it’s possible that Hunt benefits from a makeup artist, who can achieve the same results with some magical strokes of their brush.
In fact, there are many Hollywood beauty secrets that keep celebrities looking ageless. Pairing a healthy diet and exercise with pricey non-surgical spa treatments have proven results!
Hunt is very active and isn’t shy about showing off her fit physique. In an interview, she explained “As a general rule, I tend to move. I don’t go to a gym ever. I don’t diet ever. I used to diet, but sometime after the eighties, it made me miserable, but I do like to walk, run, and I do like to surf when I can just to warm it up, and I do enjoy doing yoga when I can get there.”
As we all know, being a woman in Hollywood can be quite a challenge.
In a 2019 interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Hunt discussed how she has experienced being objectified throughout her career and how she hopes to help create a more inclusive.
“What are the great movies for younger women where they’re the protagonist [being] made now? You know what I mean? The whole thing — there’s no equal rights amendment. We’re fucked,” Hunt told Huffington Post in 2015.
Over the years, Hunt has been involved in various advocacy and philanthropic efforts to support women’s rights and empowerment – speaking up against objectification of women.
”I certainly drive around and I’m tired of the billboard where she’s barely in her underwear and they’re selling, you know, a watch or something,” Hunt said.
”I’m over it, to be honest.”
Facing judgements from the public can’t be easy, especially for celebrities who are out there doing their jobs, which is entertaining us.
I arrived home to find my kids sleeping in the hallway — seeing what my husband had turned their bedroom into while I was gone drove me wild with angerPhoto of admin admin3 weeks ago0 616 7 minutes read
After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!
I’d been away on a business trip for a week, and let me tell you, I was itching to get home. My boys, Tommy and Alex, were probably bouncing off the walls waiting for me.
I mean, a week is practically forever when you’re 6 and 8. And Mark? Well, I figured he’d be glad to hand the reins back to me. He’s a great dad, don’t get me wrong, but he’s always been more of the fun parent than the responsible one.
As I pulled into our driveway at midnight, I couldn’t help but grin. The house was dark and quiet, just as it should be at this ungodly hour.
I grabbed my suitcase and tiptoed to the front door, keys jingling softly in my hand.
The lock clicked open, and I stepped inside, ready to collapse into bed. But something was… wrong.
My foot hit something soft, and I froze. Heart pounding, I fumbled for the light switch. When the hall lit up, I almost screamed.
Tommy and Alex were sprawled out on the floor, tangled up in blankets like a couple of puppies. They were fast asleep, but their faces were smudged with dirt, and their hair was sticking up in all directions.
“What the hell?” I whispered, my mind racing. Had there been a fire? A gas leak? Why weren’t they in their beds?
I crept past them, afraid to wake them up until I knew what was going on. The living room was a disaster zone, littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, and what looked suspiciously like melted ice cream on the coffee table. But no sign of Mark.
My heart was doing the cha-cha in my chest as I made my way to our bedroom. Empty.
The bed was still made, like it hadn’t been slept in today. Mark’s car was in the driveway, so where was he?
That’s when I heard it. A faint, muffled sound coming from the boys’ room. I tiptoed over, my imagination running wild. Was Mark hurt? Had some psycho broken in and tied him up?
I pushed the door open, inch by inch, and…
“What. The. Actual—” I bit my tongue, remembering the kids were just down the hall.
There was Mark, headphones on, controller in hand, surrounded by empty energy drink cans and snack wrappers. But that wasn’t even the craziest part.
The boys’ room had been transformed into some kind of gamer paradise. A massive TV took up one wall, there were LED lights everywhere, and I’m pretty sure that monstrosity in the corner was a mini-fridge.
I stood there, mouth hanging open, as the rage built up inside me like a volcano about to blow. Mark hadn’t even noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever game he was playing.
I stomped over and yanked the headphones off his head. “Mark! What the hell is going on?”
He blinked at me, looking dazed. “Oh, hey babe. You’re home early.”
“Early? It’s midnight! Why are our children sleeping on the floor?”
He shrugged, reaching for his controller again. “Oh, it’s fine. The boys were happy sleeping outside. They thought it was an adventure.”
I snatched the controller away. “An adventure? They’re not camping, Mark! They’re sleeping on our dirty hallway floor!”
“Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill,” he said, trying to grab the controller back. “Everything’s under control. I’ve been feeding them and stuff.”
“Feeding them? You mean the pizza boxes and ice cream in the living room?” I could feel my blood pressure rising with every word. “And what about baths? Or, I don’t know, their actual beds?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “They’re fine, Sarah. Lighten up a bit.”
That’s when I lost it.
“Lighten up? LIGHTEN UP? Our children are sleeping on the floor like animals while you play video games in their room! What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to have a little me-time. Is that so terrible?”
I took a deep breath, trying not to scream. “You know what? We’re not doing this right now. Go put the boys in their beds. Now.”
“But I’m in the middle of—”
“NOW, Mark!”
He grumbled but got up, shuffling past me.
I watched him pick up Tommy, who stirred a little but didn’t wake up. As Mark carried him to bed, I couldn’t help but think how alike they looked: one actual child and the man acting like one.
I scooped up Alex, my heart breaking a little at how dirty his face was. As I tucked him into bed, I made a decision. If Mark wanted to act like a child, then that’s exactly how I’d treat him.
The next morning, I put my plan into action.
While Mark was in the shower, I snuck into the man cave he’d created and unplugged everything. Then I got to work.
When he came downstairs, hair still wet, I was waiting for him with a big smile. “Good morning, sweetie! I made you breakfast!”
He looked at me suspiciously. “Uh, thanks?”
I set a plate in front of him. In the middle was a Mickey Mouse-shaped pancake with a smiley face made of fruit. His coffee was in a sippy cup.
“What’s this?” he asked, poking at the pancake.
“It’s your breakfast, silly! Now eat up, we have a big day ahead of us!”
After breakfast, I unveiled my masterpiece, a giant, colorful chore chart plastered on the fridge. “Look what I made for you!”
Mark’s eyes widened. “What the hell is that?”
“Language!” I scolded. “It’s your very own chore chart! See? You can earn gold stars for cleaning your room, doing the dishes, and putting away your toys!”
“My toys? Sarah, what are you—”
I cut him off. “Oh, and don’t forget! We have a new house rule. All screens off by 9 p.m. sharp. That includes your phone, mister!”
Mark’s face went from confused to angry. “Are you kidding me? I’m a grown man, I don’t need—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” I wagged my finger. “No arguing, or you’ll have to go to the timeout corner!”
For the next week, I stuck to my guns. Every night at 9, I’d shut off the Wi-Fi and unplug his gaming console.
I even tucked him into bed with a glass of milk and read him “Goodnight Moon” in my most soothing voice.
His meals were served on plastic plates with little dividers. I cut his sandwiches into dinosaur shapes and gave him animal crackers for snacks. When he complained, I’d say things like, “Use your words, honey. Big boys don’t whine.”
The chore chart was a particular point of contention. Every time he completed a task, I’d make a big show of giving him a gold star.
“Look at you, putting your laundry away all by yourself! Mommy’s so proud!”
He’d grit his teeth and mutter, “I’m not a child, Sarah.”
To which I’d reply, “Of course not, sweetie. Now, who wants to help make cookies?”
The breaking point came about a week into my little experiment. Mark had just been sent to the timeout corner for throwing a fit about his two-hour screen time limit. He sat there, fuming, while I calmly set the kitchen timer.
“This is ridiculous!” he exploded. “I’m a grown man, for God’s sake!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure about that? Because grown men don’t make their children sleep on the floor so they can play video games all night.”
He deflated a little. “Okay, okay, I get it! I’m sorry!”
I studied him for a moment. He did look genuinely remorseful, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook when I had one last blow to deliver.
“Oh, I accept your apology,” I said sweetly. “But I’ve already called your mom…”
The color drained from his face. “You didn’t.”
Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to reveal Mark’s mother, looking every bit the disappointed parent.
“Mark!” she bellowed, marching into the house. “Did you really make my sweeties sleep on the floor so you could play your little games?”
Mark looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. “Mom, it’s not… I mean, I didn’t…”
She turned to me, her face softening. “Sarah, dear, I’m so sorry you had to deal with this. I thought I raised him better than that.”
I patted her arm. “It’s not your fault, Linda. Some boys just take longer to grow up than others.”
Mark’s face was beet red. “Mom, please. I’m 35 years old!”
Linda ignored him, turning back to me. “Well, not to worry. I’ve cleared my schedule for the next week. I’ll whip this boy back into shape in no time!”
As Linda bustled off to the kitchen, muttering about the state of the dishes, I caught Mark’s eye. He looked utterly defeated.
“Sarah,” he said quietly. “I really am sorry. I was selfish and irresponsible. It won’t happen again.”
I softened a little. “I know, honey. But when I’m away, I need to know you’ve got things under control. The boys need a father, not another playmate.”
He nodded, looking ashamed. “You’re right. I’ll do better, I promise.”
I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “I know you will. Now, why don’t you go help your mother with the dishes? If you do a good job, maybe we can have ice cream for dessert.”
As Mark trudged off to the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. Lesson learned, I hoped. And if not… well, I still had that timeout corner ready and waiting.
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