Article:
NEW YORK — On a brisk fall day, Olivia Wilde is walking the grid not in
a luminescent neoprene catsuit but in a double-breasted camel blazer and
slightly shredded pair of boyfriend jeans.
Out here on this grid, in Manhattan's Meatpacking District, her
transportation mode of choice isn't an ATV-like light runner — the
glowing, dark dune buggy in which Wilde's character, Quorra, grinds
along that other grid, the one of TRON: Legacy— but her own flat-boot-clad
feet.
But like Quorra and her light runner, today Wilde is keen to go off the
grid — two stories above it, in fact, to the High Line, a derelict
elevated railway turned popular park. "It almost looks post-apocalyptic,"
Wilde says, surveying the tangle of steel track and weathered, wind-whipped
grass. "A city abandoned and reclaimed by nature."
Out Friday, the wildly anticipated TRON sequel has a similar post-apocalyptic
feel, albeit one of bytes and blackness. But within the foreboding
frontier stands the movie's figurative, and literal, heart: Quorra, from
the French coeur, for the blood-beating organ.
Part apprentice, part confidante, part Joan of Arc-esque torchbearer, "she's,
like, this nerdy little creature," says Wilde, 26, who is known for
playing another brainy babe, Dr. Remy "Thirteen" Hadley on House.
"I wanted her to be incredibly smart and incredibly loving and
incredibly strong" — all qualities that could be applied to Wilde, who
is known to spout Einstein, cradle premature babies in Haiti amid a
cholera epidemic and, on screen, pull off mixed martial arts moves in 4-inch
platform wedges. (The wiry Wilde trained for four months before shooting,
sometimes in two-hour spurts, achieving "the best shape of my life.")
Wilde is the kind of person who greets a relative stranger with a hug
and repeatedly touches said stranger's knee with her short fingernails,
the cabernet polish chipped, to emphasize a point. She's largely
unadorned, save for a winged gold ring on her right hand and thick gold
wedding band on her left, and utterly makeup-free this morning, which
makes her preternatural eyes pop. Feline-shaped, they're the color of
TRON's famous fluorescent-green striations, a freakishly beautiful hue.
And despite the windy, overcast chill, she's game to gambol the 1½-mile
length — and back — of the High Line's planks. Up here above the grid,
the scene is "beautiful," she says. She goes seemingly unrecognized.
(That could change next year, when she stars in two big summer movies,
Cowboys & Aliens, another sci-fi flick, and The Change-Up, a comedy in
which she plays a lawyer alongside body swappers Jason Bateman and Ryan
Reynolds.)
"I never want to be able to not take the subway," says Wilde, who,
despite eight years in Los Angeles — she has a house in Venice with her
filmmaker husband, Tao Ruspoli, and their two dogs — considers New
York's West Village home.
Not that she minds the occasional shout-out, like one the other day when
a couple of cops she walked past hollered, "Hey, Thirteen, what's up?
You coming back to the hospital soon?" (She is, this spring, though she
and Fox are mum on exactly when.)
Upfront straight talk — "that's why I love New York," Wilde says. In
contrast, with the "whispering" she encounters in Los Angeles, "you
become this paranoid person."
Still, "I have a bunch of friends I've had a long time who are great
about getting me back down to earth." Ruspoli, 35, whom she married
seven years ago, also helps keep her grounded — no matter that he has a
lofty lineage (he's the son of an Italian prince).
"People imagine that I have a throne, crown, maybe a castle of my own,"
Wilde says.
Nor does she have a chariot. Wilde hoofs it back to her place, the top
floor of an elegant but unassuming brownstone, expertly navigating the
West Village's winding grid along the way.
|