

Yes, I admit it, I read the gossip sites and comfortably judge from a distance. I'm also guilty of judging Sienna Miller and her tabloid identity. I didn't like Sienna because of what I read about her in the tabloids. Man-eater, man-stealer, party girl. All those labels and vacuous pictures of her walking her dog, shopping, and holding the ubiquitous paper cup of coffee. All those images and labels of course help build a consensus with the masses, and in my own consciousness-- that this women is an empty, soulless slut.
Well, I've changed my mind. I actually really like Sienna now. The shift started with her role as The Baroness in "G.I. Joe." She looked hot and she played the role with the right amount of sexiness, determination, vamp, and camp. It was a fun summer movie, and she was fun in it. Then I saw "The September Issue" where her photos were dissected and ripped apart by Vogue magazine editors, and I felt a kind of sympathy for her. Her only sin was a fabulous smile.
And now, she's starring on Broadway in "After Miss Julie." The play was written by Patrick Marber, an incredible writer who has adapted August Strindberg's play "Miss Julie" and turned it into a sexy, smart play set in post-World War II Britain. Marber tackles the issue of the struggles between class and sex with aplomb dialogue that is shocking, harsh, and honest.
"Kiss My Shoe," Miss Julie audaciously orders Jonny Lee Miller, who plays John, the valet. The command is a test, of Miss Julie's power, and of John's servitude; a test of the roles we inhabit and our acceptance or denial of them. And from this point the push and pull, the game or war begins. The play is a class war between emotionally damaged people, struggling with their demons, desires, and dreams. These people are damaged by societal rules and like all wars there are victims and there are scars. Throughout the play the verbal assaults fly like heat seeking missiles attacking both the minds and hearts of the helpless characters.
Both Sienna and Jonny are sensational in their portrayal of characters trapped in roles that they are desperately trying to break free from. They both on some levels believe that love and passion are the keys to freedom, but in the end the reality of the world crushes them both. It's a cruel, harsh, grey world out there where emotions and ideas are constantly shifting; and where there are no definitive answers, no true escape from the social constructs that we have built around us that we think protect us, but in the end eventually imprison us.
Near the end of the play when we understand the meaning behind the title, the "After you Miss Julie" becomes poignant and sad; the devastation is final and complete.
Seeing Sienna in the flesh and blood on stage completely erased my preconceived notion of what or who she is. On a purely elemental level I just saw her as a human being. The tabloid image of her dissolved as she stood, alive on the stage, her voice loud and clear, her body and movement real and tangible. That is the power of theatre and live performance. It's visceral and raw. Even as a performer playing a character she was made more complete and real by the simple truth of her presence on stage. Here was a woman who recently declared to the New York Times that she just wants to act. And yes, she can act, really she can.
After the play I stood outside the theatre in the freezing rain, waiting for her to make her exit so I could get her autograph and maybe a picture. When she finally emerged she look tired--her fabulous blond tresses in a loose bun, dressed in black sweat pants, and a pair of grey, suede Ugg-like boots, she had her cute dog with her. She was still pretty, shorter and smaller than I imagined. On stage she looked tall and commanding with her svelte figure and long legs. As she was signing my playbill I told her I loved her and her costumes in "G.I. Joe" she laughed good heartily.
Another fan wanted wanted me to take a picture of him and her together. At first she refused, her bodyguard screaming no pictures. The fan whispered something in her ear, she obliged. When it was time to take the photo I pushed the off button, instead of taking the picture. She told me "I think you just turned off the camera." We all had a good laugh at that. Human after all. All of us.

More on Sienna Miller here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/18/theater/18mcgr.html?_r=1&fta=yhttp://www.style.com/vogue/feature/2009_July_Sienna_Miller/