Jesse Eisenberg is worried about his anxiety levels. Take today, for example. By lunchtime, his mind is already crawling with the brainworms of what might go wrong. As I waited to meet him at the East Village restaurant Little Poland, I spotted Eisenberg outside walking in tight circles on the pavement. He was talking, via Airpods, to his father, who was telling him not to freak out because his new film, A Real Pain, had made the front page of the arts section of the New York Times.
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