Elizabeth Debicki

Born on August 24, 1990 (Paris, France).

Elizabeth Debicki commands attention the instant she enters a frame — not simply because of her six-foot-three silhouette, but because she carries herself with the poise of someone born slightly out of this world. She can appear icy without ever seeming fragile; luminous without ever needing the light. In The Great Gatsby (2013), she brought a cool, feline glamour; in The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (2015), that elegance sharpened into sly, almost decadent sophistication. Her turn in Tenet (2020) revealed something far more human — a woman fighting to reclaim her life from a gilded cage, trembling between fear and resolve.

In MaXXXine (2024), she steps into bold, provocative territory, proving she can bend her statuesque grace into something dangerous, erotic, or unsettling — whatever the story demands.

Even in ostensibly supporting parts — like the golden-skinned Ayesha in Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (2017) and Vol. 3 (2023) — her presence is impossible to overlook. And although she didn’t occupy the same central orbit in the MCU as Scarlett Johansson’s Black Widow, Debicki’s Ayesha feels like a cosmic monarch carved out of starlight — imperious, immaculate, and unforgettable. Her path also glances against the larger galaxy of comic-book cinema. Like Amy Adams’ Lois Lane in the DC universe, Debicki brings gravitas to characters who might otherwise be overshadowed by superpowered titans. And like the shape-shifting Mystique — one of the most iconic modern superheroine portrayals, embodied with hypnotic sensuality by Jennifer Lawrence — she proves that genre roles can carry both spectacle and psychological depth. Even Charlize Theron, whose arrival in the MCU as Clea hints at yet-unwritten cosmic storylines, seems to inhabit a similar plane of tall, formidable, otherworldly elegance. Debicki stands naturally among these women — actresses whose physicality, presence, and interiority make them feel less like «superhero accessories» and more like gravitational bodies in their own right.

Off-screen, she is defined by a quiet, deliberate strength. She avoids the churn of tabloids, preferring substance over spectacle, and speaks with candor about fame, body image, and life as one of Hollywood’s tallest women. Admirers often note how she turns her height into a form of storytelling: a visual language of balance, intent, and gentle authority.

With every new performance, Debicki redefines what elegance can be — not ornamental, but architectural; not distant, but magnetic. She remains one of the few actresses who can make an entire scene feel calibrated around her, simply by stepping into it.

Single. No children.