Sienna Miller
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SusanSuperstar
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here is the esquire article on Sienna
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Life is not quite as messy for Sienna Miller as it appears in the tabloids—or on this page—but it has its juicy little dramas. And distractions. And chaos. Just not in the way you'd expect.
Sienna Miller is insisting she's the "biggest f*cking klutz in the world," and while the claim is endearing, you take it as just another case of a beautiful actress claiming some flaw to make her seem more real, like she was ugly between the third and fourth grades or maybe she has dreadful peripheral vision.
Miller, however, has arrived at the bar of the Gramercy Park Hotel in Manhattan with proof of her clumsiness—a mangled thumb. "On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?" she asks, offering you her hand for inspection.
It's a lovely hand, mostly, and quite small, which is good because she is a small woman, smaller than you thought, actually—though, thank God, not in that giant-head-ona-tiny-body way of other actors. In her movies, like Alfie, Casanova, and especially Layer Cake, or those ubiquitous paparazzi shots with ex-boyfriend Jude Law, Miller can come across as glamorously aloof or intimidatingly sultry, but sitting here in front of you, she's more pixielike—especially with her once-long blond hair chopped Peter Pan short and wearing a little knit dress over black tights with pointy low suede boots.
You bring her injured paw closer to the table candle to examine it. "I bite the skin on the side of my fingernails," she confesses. "Someone once told me that there's a whole psychology to it: either you're self-destructive, so you want to hurt yourself, or you're a narcissist, so you literally want to ingest yourself."
And which is she?
She grins and lights another cigarette. "Destructive, obviously."
But it's not her damaged nails she wants you to consider.
You inspect the swollen and bruised thumb and conclude that in your professional opinion, it is grotesque—bluish green with a nice stripe of dried blood beneath the nail where, she explains, she slammed it in her mom's car door. Dead sober. And it probably didn't help that her mom continued to drive for twenty seconds before realizing her daughter was still stuck, running alongside her, banging on the window—another thirty seconds and Nannygate could have given way to Tailgate.
On a bodily-disfigurement scale, you give it a six.
She is disappointed. It hurts like a seven, or maybe even an eight, especially when she bumps it while lighting cigarettes under the table, which she does often, sneaking puffs when she's sure that none of the statuesque waitresses are looking over. Between drags she begins to tell you a bit about how she landed the role of the 1960s heiress-turned-avant-garde-diva Edie Sedgwick, the doomed Warhol "superstar" who is the subject of Factory Girl—Miller's first "proper f*cking role," as she deems it.
"People ask me, ‘What is it about Edie Sedgwick—why do you care about her? She was just a socialite.' But I look at her as a performance artist—she was her art. She changed the world even though she was only a blip on the horizon," Miller says.
She's right. Sedgwick practically invented the modern naughty society girl as gossip celebrity. Factory Girl charts her transformation from Radcliffe art student to hipster style icon and national tabloid queen—which is to say she's got a bit more in common with Miller than merely waify good looks.
"Yeah, there are things about her that I relate to," says Miller. "Her chaos, especially. We can both be really distracted and disorganized. Also, I like to dance."
Miller, twenty-five, comes from a semi-privileged background herself. Her father was in finance (though now he's writing a spiritual self-help book in the Virgin Islands), and her mother helped found the Lee Strasberg drama school in London and taught yoga. Sienna was educated at boarding schools in England, where she was, she says, "the girl who always got caught—drinking, smoking, being with boys."
She describes how she came to New York to pursue her art, enrolling in the Strasberg Institute here at eighteen…. And then she lets out a loud "Ah, f*ck!"
Turns out the glowing cherry of her cigarette has fallen off its butt and into her new suede boots. She throws her leg in the air in front of you and pleads for you to take off her boot, which you do, revealing the spot where the ash has started to burn through her tights and into her calf.
"You should really consider doing romantic comedy," you suggest—and you mean it, not just because she may actually be as clumsy as she claims, but also because she's clearly got way more silly charm and limber humor than she's been able to show off in any of her films to date. Couple that with her unique bit of fashiony edge and she could easily be the Jennifer Aniston of the black-eyeliner set. Or something.
In any case, having nearly lit herself on fire, Miller forgoes another cigarette and instead fidgets with the long chain she wears around her neck. "It's a pocket-watch chain—my best friend bought it for me," she explains, showing off the little charms it bears. There's one made out of two sharp shark's teeth, which Miller playfully pokes your forearms with whenever you ask her a question she doesn't like—say, about a certain nanny; another charm reads Niagra Falls, which is where she filmed the indie movie Camille; and then there's a pyramid charm with a little eye in it, "to protect me against evil," she says.
Has it been working? "To be honest...not so much."
The collective evil eye—the British tabloids, the blogs, Us Weekly—is something Sienna Rose Miller knows well: Since being publicly burned when Law, her now ex-fiancé, cheated on her with the nanny of his three kids, nary a day goes by without some gossipy item on her, from the hilariously mundane (Sienna Miller was spotted using her mobile phone in an airport security line!) to the simply cruel. (One blogger annotated a photo of her grandfather's tombstone to read "sl*tty Miller.") As she recalls all these now-tired events, what strikes you most is her lack of bitterness. (To Jude, that is; she's plenty bitter toward elements of the press.)
"It was a very loving, very close relationship," she explains. "Obviously, we had our problems, but every single person I know has experienced infidelity. It's not the first time it's happened to me, and it probably won't be the last." Still, she remains "pathologically optimistic" about love, she says, and seems only slightly less jaded now than the girl who at twenty fell for a yoga teacher in Guatemala and moved in with him for three months. You feel cynical by comparison.
The scandal made Miller a famous actress who is not really famous for being an actress, though to be fair, she was an actress long before she met Law, having landed Alfie (and Jude) when she was a relative unknown.
Still, you wonder if there aren't some benefits to the extracurricular press? "I can now be on the cover of certain magazines, which studios like because it promotes your film," she acknowledges. "And yes, at times it can be fun, but it's not important. And there are far more negatives from that kind of attention. Overall I think it hurt work.
It's harder for me to be taken seriously now. But I can't go back. I can't change what's happened."
What she can do, and what she is doing, is work hard. She busted her *** making Factory Girl. "For maybe two months after we wrapped," she says, "I was still running around and acting a little bit crazy, like I was still in character…. It's really quite fun being Edie Sedgwick." (Unless, of course, you're Edie Sedgwick, who was twice institutionalized and died of a drug overdose at age twenty-eight.)
Factory Girl may not be a huge movie, but it's her movie.
Miller is in almost every frame, and she gives one of those all-out, totally unself-conscious performances that people are going to talk about—especially if the producers leave in a few of the more explicit sex scenes that Miller's hoping to get toned down. "I'm not comfortable with gratuitous nudity," she says, and then, laughing, "although I have done it an awful lot in my career. I guess I think if you're gonna go for it, then go for it."
She's going for it now—the eight ball, that is. Miller's petite frame is stretched over the pool table, getting the right angle, about to take her shot. A few hours ago you didn't imagine Sienna Miller was the type of woman who would challenge you to a game of eight ball; you especially did not imagine she was the type of woman who was about to beat you in a game of eight ball with a badly busted thumb. So you may have had her wrong. But there's one thing you know for sure as she sinks her shot, spins around in girlish delight, and inadvertently smacks her pool cue into her vodka tonic, sending the glass flying off the table and breaking into a dozen pieces: Sienna Miller is the biggest f*cking klutz in the world. [/FONT]
esquire.com
[FONT=Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif]Life is not quite as messy for Sienna Miller as it appears in the tabloids—or on this page—but it has its juicy little dramas. And distractions. And chaos. Just not in the way you'd expect.
Sienna Miller is insisting she's the "biggest f*cking klutz in the world," and while the claim is endearing, you take it as just another case of a beautiful actress claiming some flaw to make her seem more real, like she was ugly between the third and fourth grades or maybe she has dreadful peripheral vision.
Miller, however, has arrived at the bar of the Gramercy Park Hotel in Manhattan with proof of her clumsiness—a mangled thumb. "On a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?" she asks, offering you her hand for inspection.
It's a lovely hand, mostly, and quite small, which is good because she is a small woman, smaller than you thought, actually—though, thank God, not in that giant-head-ona-tiny-body way of other actors. In her movies, like Alfie, Casanova, and especially Layer Cake, or those ubiquitous paparazzi shots with ex-boyfriend Jude Law, Miller can come across as glamorously aloof or intimidatingly sultry, but sitting here in front of you, she's more pixielike—especially with her once-long blond hair chopped Peter Pan short and wearing a little knit dress over black tights with pointy low suede boots.
You bring her injured paw closer to the table candle to examine it. "I bite the skin on the side of my fingernails," she confesses. "Someone once told me that there's a whole psychology to it: either you're self-destructive, so you want to hurt yourself, or you're a narcissist, so you literally want to ingest yourself."
And which is she?
She grins and lights another cigarette. "Destructive, obviously."
But it's not her damaged nails she wants you to consider.
You inspect the swollen and bruised thumb and conclude that in your professional opinion, it is grotesque—bluish green with a nice stripe of dried blood beneath the nail where, she explains, she slammed it in her mom's car door. Dead sober. And it probably didn't help that her mom continued to drive for twenty seconds before realizing her daughter was still stuck, running alongside her, banging on the window—another thirty seconds and Nannygate could have given way to Tailgate.
On a bodily-disfigurement scale, you give it a six.
She is disappointed. It hurts like a seven, or maybe even an eight, especially when she bumps it while lighting cigarettes under the table, which she does often, sneaking puffs when she's sure that none of the statuesque waitresses are looking over. Between drags she begins to tell you a bit about how she landed the role of the 1960s heiress-turned-avant-garde-diva Edie Sedgwick, the doomed Warhol "superstar" who is the subject of Factory Girl—Miller's first "proper f*cking role," as she deems it.
"People ask me, ‘What is it about Edie Sedgwick—why do you care about her? She was just a socialite.' But I look at her as a performance artist—she was her art. She changed the world even though she was only a blip on the horizon," Miller says.
She's right. Sedgwick practically invented the modern naughty society girl as gossip celebrity. Factory Girl charts her transformation from Radcliffe art student to hipster style icon and national tabloid queen—which is to say she's got a bit more in common with Miller than merely waify good looks.
"Yeah, there are things about her that I relate to," says Miller. "Her chaos, especially. We can both be really distracted and disorganized. Also, I like to dance."
Miller, twenty-five, comes from a semi-privileged background herself. Her father was in finance (though now he's writing a spiritual self-help book in the Virgin Islands), and her mother helped found the Lee Strasberg drama school in London and taught yoga. Sienna was educated at boarding schools in England, where she was, she says, "the girl who always got caught—drinking, smoking, being with boys."
She describes how she came to New York to pursue her art, enrolling in the Strasberg Institute here at eighteen…. And then she lets out a loud "Ah, f*ck!"
Turns out the glowing cherry of her cigarette has fallen off its butt and into her new suede boots. She throws her leg in the air in front of you and pleads for you to take off her boot, which you do, revealing the spot where the ash has started to burn through her tights and into her calf.
"You should really consider doing romantic comedy," you suggest—and you mean it, not just because she may actually be as clumsy as she claims, but also because she's clearly got way more silly charm and limber humor than she's been able to show off in any of her films to date. Couple that with her unique bit of fashiony edge and she could easily be the Jennifer Aniston of the black-eyeliner set. Or something.
In any case, having nearly lit herself on fire, Miller forgoes another cigarette and instead fidgets with the long chain she wears around her neck. "It's a pocket-watch chain—my best friend bought it for me," she explains, showing off the little charms it bears. There's one made out of two sharp shark's teeth, which Miller playfully pokes your forearms with whenever you ask her a question she doesn't like—say, about a certain nanny; another charm reads Niagra Falls, which is where she filmed the indie movie Camille; and then there's a pyramid charm with a little eye in it, "to protect me against evil," she says.
Has it been working? "To be honest...not so much."
The collective evil eye—the British tabloids, the blogs, Us Weekly—is something Sienna Rose Miller knows well: Since being publicly burned when Law, her now ex-fiancé, cheated on her with the nanny of his three kids, nary a day goes by without some gossipy item on her, from the hilariously mundane (Sienna Miller was spotted using her mobile phone in an airport security line!) to the simply cruel. (One blogger annotated a photo of her grandfather's tombstone to read "sl*tty Miller.") As she recalls all these now-tired events, what strikes you most is her lack of bitterness. (To Jude, that is; she's plenty bitter toward elements of the press.)
"It was a very loving, very close relationship," she explains. "Obviously, we had our problems, but every single person I know has experienced infidelity. It's not the first time it's happened to me, and it probably won't be the last." Still, she remains "pathologically optimistic" about love, she says, and seems only slightly less jaded now than the girl who at twenty fell for a yoga teacher in Guatemala and moved in with him for three months. You feel cynical by comparison.
The scandal made Miller a famous actress who is not really famous for being an actress, though to be fair, she was an actress long before she met Law, having landed Alfie (and Jude) when she was a relative unknown.
Still, you wonder if there aren't some benefits to the extracurricular press? "I can now be on the cover of certain magazines, which studios like because it promotes your film," she acknowledges. "And yes, at times it can be fun, but it's not important. And there are far more negatives from that kind of attention. Overall I think it hurt work.
It's harder for me to be taken seriously now. But I can't go back. I can't change what's happened."
What she can do, and what she is doing, is work hard. She busted her *** making Factory Girl. "For maybe two months after we wrapped," she says, "I was still running around and acting a little bit crazy, like I was still in character…. It's really quite fun being Edie Sedgwick." (Unless, of course, you're Edie Sedgwick, who was twice institutionalized and died of a drug overdose at age twenty-eight.)
Factory Girl may not be a huge movie, but it's her movie.
Miller is in almost every frame, and she gives one of those all-out, totally unself-conscious performances that people are going to talk about—especially if the producers leave in a few of the more explicit sex scenes that Miller's hoping to get toned down. "I'm not comfortable with gratuitous nudity," she says, and then, laughing, "although I have done it an awful lot in my career. I guess I think if you're gonna go for it, then go for it."
She's going for it now—the eight ball, that is. Miller's petite frame is stretched over the pool table, getting the right angle, about to take her shot. A few hours ago you didn't imagine Sienna Miller was the type of woman who would challenge you to a game of eight ball; you especially did not imagine she was the type of woman who was about to beat you in a game of eight ball with a badly busted thumb. So you may have had her wrong. But there's one thing you know for sure as she sinks her shot, spins around in girlish delight, and inadvertently smacks her pool cue into her vodka tonic, sending the glass flying off the table and breaking into a dozen pieces: Sienna Miller is the biggest f*cking klutz in the world. [/FONT]
esquire.com
SusanSuperstar
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justjared
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Label Basher said:Sienna and Bill in December 2004
At least she didn't have a stick up her *** like Angelina "good will ambassador" Joile.
funkyhepburn
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kellyisazebra
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The dress Gloria posted is absolutely gorgeous on her. I saw it on a runway picture and thought it was pretty but didn't like the way it fit on the model...but Sienna can really pull it off.
I also like her gray ankle boots.
I love her styleee. Period. Hah.
I also like her gray ankle boots.
I love her styleee. Period. Hah.
Nocturnal_Antix
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I like the GG look but then I don't. I love that hairstyle but I don't think it's appropriate for that event or dress. The makeup makes her look older as well.
outdoorminer
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haute femme
turn and face the strange
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funny. Thank goodness she doesn't take herself too seriously..
justlooking
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I saw Factory Girl yesterday. I didn't think she was that bad- the movie itself was badly constructed. If only she could lengthen her neck or something- the last scene, with her brown hair, really emphasised it and it was quite distracting!
LeonieAlexandria
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Her neck bothers me abit too.. I feel sorry for her, cause there's nothing you can do about that. Same with my forehead - I wish I had a really big one, guess you've to accept those things.
outdoorminer
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It's freakishly short. She has no neck.
