A strange woman. Who knew?
Photo: JB Lacroix/FilmMagic
Margaret Qualley spends most of her new Vanity Fair cover story being guarded — she doesn’t want to talk too much about her husband, Jack Antonoff; her mother, Andie MacDowell; or the potential names for her hypothetical kids. “I don’t feel like I’m always good at representing myself publicly in real time, so I would almost rather say nothing at all?” she later explains via a text to journalist Marisa Meltzer. “Because rather than have the wrong idea about me, someone just wouldn’t have any idea about me.” But then, still talking over text, she sends Meltzer a very long, poetic manifesto that is totally earnest and completely revealing. In full:
“I love my husband, my family. I love dancing and horses. I love the moon. Happy crying is the best. I love listening to Tara Brach and books on tape. And anything Jack writes. Female friendships are so holy, shout out Talia Ryder. My sister was my first soulmate. I wanna die on a farm. I need to learn how to drive stick, my brother tried to teach me but I was 12 and it didn’t land. Smokey, dog, god. I love you world, thank you for having me.”
The text is so heartfelt, yet so off-kilter, that it shows Qualley’s personality in a way no amount of pizza interviews or Jimmy Fallon bits ever could. There’s a full character there — someone who can free-associate between ideas without any guiding connection. She’s a little macabre when talking about her own death, but also full of life. The sentence structures are jumbled up in a charming way, with partial clauses that lead into stories that transmute into singular, contextless words. (I particularly love the random “Smokey.”) It’s a great read and in contrast to all the other celebrities who sand themselves down into unobjectionable blobs for press.
Given that it’s a fully realized monologue, the question becomes this: Who should perform it? In the same way that Michael Shannon once embodied that mean sorority-girl screed, it’s rife for an atypical interpretation. A contemporary who specializes in odd minds like Barry Keoghan might work, but honestly, the better option is a master who can ground it. It should be Tommy Lee Jones.
Related
