and fiction becomes clear. As I learn over the course of our inter view,
Miller is in the midst of her own quiet revolution, from a fashion plate in
her twenties known for her wild private life to a 37-year-old mother and
formidable actor. ‘It was the opportunity to play somebody who earns
respect throughout a film. Ending as a different woman from how she
began,’ she says of Deb, but perhaps also herself.‘It feels like an odyssey.’
This is essentially the first movie Miller has carried fully on her back.
‘I’d never been in every scene of a film,’ she says.‘I have a sense of what
I’m capable of for the first time.’ She’s delivered small but impressive
performances in some not-so-impressive movies, like her firstmajorfilm,
Alfie, a fairly mediocre Hollywood remake in which she brings heart to a
movie fuelled by caddish machismo. When she has had the rare larger
role, like in 2OO6’sFactory Girl, an Edie Sedgwick biopic that co-stars
Guy Pearce, she has shined. And there have been more recent strong
supporting roles in Oscar-winningFoxcatcherandAmerican Sniper. Still,
it’s usually been her image, not her acting, that’s attracted the attention.
And it has been ever thus... Miller’s outsized infamy overshadowing her
work.Which is a shame when you realise just how good she is. When I tell
her that, she responds as if she’s heard it before.‘I was seen as someone’s
girlfriend, then someonefashionable, and you can’t be thatandbe good
at acting,’ she says.‘I was really proud of some of the early work– it just felt
like I was constantly having to go through hurdles to prove I was serious.’
Of course, Miller can never fully vanish into a character – though she
tells me that, even at the height of her fame, she was very insecure – the
objective truth is that she’s too striking not to stand out. It’s the age-old
Thomas Hardy tale of beauty sometimes being a curse. She jokes that
I’m lucky to be a man because of how much less pressure there is around
aging, but she’s seasoned enough to understand her natural beauty is
now accompanied by the wisdom and distancethatage afford you.
Today, Miller has an extra glow to her wheaty hair and is freckle-
dappled, having just returned from a recent vacation in Tuscany, making
her look – from certain angles at least – like a young Stevie Nicks or
Cheryl Tiegs. She now lives inN ew Yo r k ’sWest Village, not far from
where we’re talking, in a three-floor
apartment, though she has her sights
set on moving to Brooklyn to get
more space for her family. Her life is
fairly mundane most of the time, she
explains. Marlowe wakes her up with
a prod in the eye at the crack of dawn.
Then she letsoutthe dog, Tennessee,
feeds Eve the cat, has a bowl of cereal
with Marlowe, makes pancakes or
eggs before the walk to school at- 15 am, and pick up at2. 45 pm.
And that’s pretty much it, she explains,
when she’s not on set, an average day
in the life of a New York City mum.
While she’s not with Marlowe’s
father, actor Tom Sturridge, they have a mature take on co-parenting;
he even spends the night.‘He’s at the house and he’s going to stay there
tonight,’ she says.‘It’s not like there’s a structure for custody. We make it
work. It’s not conventional.’ After they split, she was alone for aboutnine
months.‘It was about the first time in my life I’d ever been single. It was
fine. I really like my own company. I quite like being independent,’ she
says with a little laugh.‘But the dating thing, which Itrieda couple of
times? That I don’t envy. I went on a couple of dates with people that
I was set up with and...y’ know...’One person eventually clicked
ELLE.COM/UK Nove mbe r 2O19 129
ust one-and-a-half rounds of Aperol Spritzes in with
Sienna Miller, she asks to see my Tinder account, telling me she’s a
go-to for friends who need help tweaking their dating profiles. Several
seconds of frowning concentration later, she declares with a smirk:
‘I’m going to set you up with your boyfriend.’ I t ’s unusual for a celebrity
to make an inter viewer feel so at ease, but Sienna Miller has that
knack. Still, this relaxed confidence hasn’t come easily. After a choppy
ride into tabloid celebrity 15 years ago as the It girl with famous
boyfriends and boho belts, Miller has only recently found an equilibrium
after the whiplash of too much notoriety.
‘There are always good and bad elements to fame,’ she explains,
ner vously balling up little pieces of paper as we talk, rolling them like
bowling balls along the table at Cafe Cluny in New York. ‘It would
be ridiculous to say that it’s not beneficial... It was extremely fun and
exciting. I’ve met Keith Richards and Mick Jagger! I’ve had experiences
I couldn’t dream of,’ she says. ‘But the experience that I had with it? It’s
not worth it for me. It was way too intense.’
Now, Miller has what could be called a
healthy amount of celebrity – enough that
she can get backstage at a Taylor Swift
concert so her daughter – seven-year-
old Marlowe – can meet her idol, but not
so much to be a front-page splash any
longer. ‘[Marlowe] says I’m not famous
enough sometimes,’ she chuckles. ‘Her
idea of fame is, like, Ariana Grande.’
Miller is currently preparing for
the release of American Woman, a
$5 million independent film that will
almost certainly not attract her as many
eyeballs as an Ariana Grande Instagram
post, perhaps, but will convince anyone
who watches it that she’s the real deal. Her character, Deb, a blue-
collar Pennsylvania waitress who picks up the pieces of her life after her
child goes missing, has a life so unlike her own that she can disintegrate
her own image behind a role. ‘I don’t want to be myself in a film – ever,’
she says, her crystal blue eyes locked into focus. ‘The job of acting
really is metamorphosis. If you’re doing it right, you should disappear.’
Yet something inherently remains of Miller in Deb, and as she explains
how the character transforms from a slightly irresponsible young woman
to a resolute force of strength for her family, a parallel between reality
“ I WAS SEEN AS SOMEONE’S
GIRLFRIEND, SOMEONE
FASHIONABLE, AND
YOU CAN’T BE THAT BE
GOOD AT ACTING ”