Maggie Gyllenhaal is a broad-in-waiting, the kinda-wanna-sorta brunette who cracked wise through Hollywood’s Golden Age. You could see as much four years ago when she made Vanity Fair’s Hollywood cover, slumped in a chair on the far right of the gatefold, separated from the gilded company she was keeping, wearier, worldlier.
MG: Well, that’s true of any character. I remember going into the first costume fitting. They had these short little jean skirts and blue fingernails, and someone said, “I love that, it’s so awful!” But I thought that comment was so judgmental. I thought, “What would somebody who is basically 16 in her mind, who has been in prison for three years, imagine was both professional and sexy? Why shouldn’t a professional person be sexy?” Instead of, This girl’s a real tart! I couldn’t think like that.
TB: How do actors do what they do? Is it something you’ve got that other people don’t, or is it something you lack that other people have?TB: You’re rolling around naked on a dirty floor in New Jersey, and that’s your job- TB: Here’s another observation from your press clippings: “Gyllenhaal clearly relishes taking a wrecking ball to anything perfect or beautiful in her own cinematic creations.” But I always suspected that you were happy to be beautiful in real life.