if the leftovers` margaret qualley can survive the rapture, making a
Transcription
if the leftovers` margaret qualley can survive the rapture, making a
GONE G IRL r e av e y at br ya n b a n t r y. m a k e u p : l es l i e l o p e z at t h e wa l l gr o u p . a l l c lo t h i ng b y p r a d a . s t y l i st: r ac h a e l wa ng . ha ir : h e le n IF THE LEFTOVERS ’ MARGARET QUALLEY CAN SURVIVE THE RAPTURE, MAKING A NAME FOR HERSELF IN HOLLYWOOD SHOULD BE A BREEZE. BY MAURA KUTNER WALTERS. PHOTOGRAPHED BY DAVID SHAMA Margaret Qualley has the graceful movements of a ballerina (she studied with dancing legends Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux and Patricia McBride) and the flawless skin of a china doll (a genetic blessing passed down from mom, Andie MacDowell). She sits at a booth at Frankies Spuntino in Manhattan’s West Village, hands demurely in her lap, wearing a vintage flower-print dress and black patent leather heels, a gift from Miuccia Prada. Ladylike is the 19-year-old’s default setting, but when pressed on the limits of her elegance, she leans in close. “I’m the biggest klutz on earth. I always have bruises on my legs,” she says, revealing several mean-looking purple blotches on her shins. “I also have horrible road rage. That’s why I had to leave L.A.” An act this convincing suggests Qualley learned the Hollywood game early, but she was actually raised on a 3,000-acre ranch in Montana, and later in Asheville, North Carolina. MacDowell and her ex-husband, former model Paul Qualley, eschewed watching television, so the Qualley children (older sister Rainey is an actress and singer) staged concerts in the living room and rode horses for fun. And, of course, there was dancing. She studied at the North Carolina School of the Arts and spent summers with the American Ballet Theatre. “Ballet was my whole life. There was no other option in my mind,” she says. “Then I was offered an apprenticeship at the North Carolina Dance Theatre. I had accomplished this huge goal and then realized I didn’t really want it anymore. I went through an identity crisis at 16.” The soul-searching teenager instead moved to New York City by herself, signed up for improv classes, and found another calling. “It was the first acting class I’d ever taken, and I just knew I had to do it,” she explains. In 2012, Qualley decamped for Los Angeles to find an agent and begin auditioning. After landing a small role in Gia Coppola’s Palo Alto, she heard Peter Berg was directing an HBO pilot for Lost creator Damon Lindelof, based on The Leftovers, Tom Perotta’s 2011 book in which millions of people vanish after a rapture-like event. “At first everyone thought I was too green because I had never worked before, but I loved the role; I didn’t want to miss out,” she says. Her chemistry read with Berg involved a set of impromptu pushups and repeatedly shouting out the C-word. “I can’t even say that word,” she whispers, covering her mouth. Two weeks later, she booked the part. Qualley brings restrained rage to the role of Jill Garvey, a former straight-A student turned high school loner, whose police chief father (Justin Theroux) struggles to keep order in an unraveling town, while her mother (Amy Brenneman) joins a chain-smoking, vow-of-silence cult, and her classmates turn to various distractions—religion, sex, drugs— to cope with the inexplicable event. “Obviously, I haven’t had the same life experience as Jill, but I know what it’s like to feel like the world is rushing by while you’re just standing there,” she says. Just standing there, as it turns out, is a luxury Qualley can’t afford these days—one last sip of coffee and her publicist steps in to whisk her off to a dress fitting for The Leftovers’ New York premiere. “I really think I might faint on the red carpet,” she says. “I hate getting my photo taken, and I have no idea what I’m going to wear.” Whatever she chooses, when the flashbulbs start to pop, you can bet there won’t be a shin bruise in sight.