“Ruth’s strength-that was the challenge.” “The vulnerability is the easy part,” she tells me. Garner has managed to create a character that’s intimidating, resourceful and strong while keeping this thread of vulnerability humming just under the surface. But, like in the biblical “Parable of the Sower,” she plants the seeds of her characters in fertile ground: They grow out of who she is. Granted, this is true of most actors (though, ha ha, certainly not all). She doesn’t sound like them, and she doesn’t act like them. Garner isn’t anything like the characters she plays. “Because I was in indies, that seemed to be where I was recognized most often.”Īnd now look: That girl from Martha Marcy May Marlene-and a surprising number of other cult-based works, like Electrick Children, where she played a Mormon teen who believes she was impregnated by rock music, or Waco, where she was one of David Koresh’s Branch Davidian wives-is all grown up and getting spotted in Manhattan. “It actually first started in Brooklyn,” replies Garner. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Because her biggest role at the moment-at least until Dirty John, a true-crime series, based on a popular podcast, that came out late last year-is as Ruth, the whip-smart, shit-talking quasi-outlaw/sidekick to Jason Bateman’s Marty on Netflix’s Ozark. But it seemed like an especially appropriate question for Garner. But since I had wondered whether Garner, who has been acting for nearly a decade but mostly in indies, has started getting recognized, it was a bit uncanny.Īnd, fine, asking whether an actress gets recognized is about as groundbreaking as asking who she’s wearing on a red carpet. It was almost as if the whole interaction were a bit of theatre orchestrated for my benefit, to show not only Garner’s reach but also her low-key grace despite her growing fame.
“My wife is going to love this,” he beams. A few moments later, he’s back with a camera. The man compliments her work and then heads out before anything becomes uncomfortable. “We just finished Ozark, and I thought it was you!” Garner is just as gracious with him as she was with me when I said hello. “Is that Ruth we got here?” he says, not acknowledging my presence. He’s sporting a buzz cut and a bright green shirt he likely got at the “Why Yes, I Am an Embarrassing Dad Store.” Before I can ask about that hair-or anything else for that matter-we’re interrupted by one of the diners on his way out. She’s open and friendly, despite the unconscious motions of millennial discomfort: pulling at her collar and then running her hands through her hair, gathering it up and moving it from one side to the other, like a kid who doesn’t want to eat her potatoes. She brightens when I approach, and we immediately fall into an easy conversation. There’s probably a metaphor in there, too. It’s one of the subjects I intend to raise with her: how curls are often cut, straightened, covered up or otherwise discriminated against in showbiz and how they might make someone a hero. You don’t see curls like hers on television too often-at least not since the days of Chrissy Seaver on Growing Pains or maybe the first season of Felicity.
It’s her hair: a controlled eruption of blond curls that would make William Katt-you know, the guy from The Greatest American Hero-swoon with envy.