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Domhnall Gleeson on nepo babies: ‘I've been so lucky. It's important you can acknowledge it. Otherwise you're lying to yourself'

Domhnall Gleeson on nepo babies: ‘I've been so lucky. It's important you can acknowledge it. Otherwise you're lying to yourself'

Irish Times18-05-2025

When
Domhnall Gleeson
was 14 he saved up for a school trip to Egypt to see the pyramids of Giza. He went with a group of classmates from Malahide Community School, and it's not that the moment was wasted on him, but he says getting to see the pyramids again with 'an adult brain', for his latest movie role, was a more profound experience.
In that new film, Fountain of Youth, Gleeson plays an Irish billionaire, and it brought the chance to get up close to the ancient monuments. 'It was totally different seeing them through adult eyes. We were right in the middle of them. There's something about the scale that doesn't make sense in your brain. They are just beyond comprehension. I was so happy I got to go back.'
Directed by
Guy Ritchie
, Fountain of Youth is a full on-action adventure starring
John Krasinski
and
Natalie Portman
as estranged siblings reunited in search of mythical treasure using clues hidden in priceless artworks. A heist movie with high-octane chase scenes involving mopeds, helicopters, sports cars and, in one case, the sunken Lusitania, it's an Indiana Jones meets The Da Vinci Code caper for the TikTok generation.
Taking the role was an easy decision. Gleeson was mad about the Indiana Jones movies growing up in
Malahide
, in north Co Dublin, with his three brothers, his mother, Mary, and his actor father, Brendan.
READ MORE
'There were so many reasons to want to be part of it – the fact that it was Guy Ritchie doing his version of it, and then John and Natalie ...' The star power of those two names hangs in the air. 'They're both really, really nice people to be around. The tone they set was wonderful. It was a very fun shoot – as it should be with something like this.'
The film was shot last year, in locations that included Cairo, Bangkok and Vienna. Gleeson is talking today in a video call from a hotel in Paris, where I can see an impressive chandelier hanging above his head. 'It's insanely fancy,' he says.
Owen Carver, Gleeson's character in Fountain of Youth, is rich enough to have several private jets and, as he tells Portman's character at one point, 'an army of highfalutin lawyers'. Thankfully, that phrase is the film's only moment of stage Oirishness.
I'm getting itchy now. I feel like I need to get some demons out in some sort of a way
Carver is one of those understated billionaires, more
Collison
brothers
than
Elon Musk
, a moneyed man in a dapper tweed suit determined to track down the Fountain of Youth because he has terminal liver cancer. 'We're all dying, it's just a matter of when,' his character says at one point. (The 'protectors', led by Stanley Tucci and the brilliant Eiza González, are a shady group with lots of guns who are determined to prevent the adventurers from finding the fountain.)
Originally, the role was written as an American. 'He was a little more brash. Guy wanted to change that. He wanted me to use my own accent and to make him a more personable sort of character, more identifiable,' Gleeson says. 'He took it away from the obvious and made it slightly more interesting.'
Last year Gleeson played an Irish character in
Alice & Jack
, Channel 4's romantic epic about a 15-year love story. Before that it had been a while since he'd been able to use his own accent on a job. 'It's definitely different,' he says. 'Turning up and not having to think about an accent was good, because there was a lot of tearing up the script ... It was good not to have to worry'.
Carver might come across as 'one of those nice billionaires, but there's a transactional aspect to him, necessarily'. And he's the sort of person for whom any amount of money will never be enough, Gleeson says.
We talk about the enduring preoccupation with anti-ageing hacks and the obsession with staying young or living forever in storytelling from the legend of Tír na nÓg to Substance, the Demi Moore body-horror film.
The characters in Ritche's movie are all searching for the fountain for different reasons.
Did Gleeson wonder if he'd be tempted to take a sip from such a spring if it really existed? 'I didn't find myself thinking about that so much. My character has his reasons for being obsessed with it in the film, so I was thinking about it more in those terms ... It's such a universal theme, and something people lust after and want.'
We return to the difference between him looking at the pyramids aged 14 and then 41. 'Since then I've experienced a lot of life – but also loss, and that makes you think about things differently.' He says he's been something of a 'slow learner' in this regard. 'I didn't get Beckett until I was embarrassingly older ... but when these things hit, they hit hard.'
Gleeson has had a remarkable career since his Tony-nominated breakout role in
Martin McDonagh
's blackly comic play The Lieutenant of Inishmore, in 2006. He has been working steadily ever since, a regular in both the Star Wars and Harry Potter franchises, and honing his craft in more formative roles such as Richard Curtis's enduringly lovable film
About Time
and Joe Wright's epic
Anna Karenina
.
He had a huge year in 2015, when he was in four Oscar-nominated movies, playing a computer-programming prodigy in
Ex Machina
, a love interest in
Brooklyn
, a nasty First Order leader in
Star Wars: The Force Awakens
and a fur trapper, alongside Leonardo DiCaprio, in
The Revenant
, which went on to win the Oscar for best movie.
With the Star Wars franchise another level of stardom was thrust upon him. Was that hard to deal with?
'I think any of the difficulties you have with that stuff probably should remain private,' he says. 'I'm lucky. People in Ireland are pretty chill for the most part. If people are coming up to you because they liked something you were in, Jesus, I mean, if you're complaining about that, then, you know, it's not ideal.' (I am relieved to hear this, as I once went up to Gleeson, drunkenly, in a club in Dublin to gush about how much I loved him in About Time. He appears to have no memory of this encounter, thankfully.)
The 'Harry Potter thing' was so 'huge and intense when it happened, despite the fact the part I had was so small', he says. 'It kind of prepared me for all the stuff that would happen after that. Because the people who love Harry Potter
love
Harry Potter – I'm one of them. So that kind of prepared me.'
At this point Gleeson asks, with characteristic politeness, if I mind if he takes a toilet break. 'I'll press the mute button,' he says, smiling, which is thoughtful of him.
When he reappears I mention that I saw him, or his Bill Weasley hologram at least, at the Universal Studios theme park in Florida, at the beginning of the Harry Potter ride Escape from Gringotts. 'I got to go there when it opened. We got to be there with a load of the Harry Potter people. We would have been some of the first people on it, which was fantastic.'
He mentions the other ride he stars in, Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance, at Walt Disney World in Florida. When he went on that one, staff cosplaying Star Wars roles saluted him, saying, 'Good to see you working undercover, general'. I remember that ride as also incredible, but I don't remember Gleeson featuring in it. 'How dare you? It's some of my finest work,' he scolds, feigning indignation.
I stumble as I try to recall for Gleeson a breathtaking moment when you walk into an entire room full of, 'you know, the white, scary-looking dudes that are Darth Vader's people. What are they called?'
'I know what they're called, but I want you to keep trying to describe them,' he says with a grin before eventually, and kindly, putting me out of my mortified misery: 'Stormtroopers'.
Speaking of rides, there has been much reaction online to Gleeson's upcoming appearance in the film Echo Valley next month. When a photograph of his character was released, one fan declared themselves to be 'running around in circles making animal noises'; another called him 'SCRUMPTIOUS'. He plays a psychopathic drug dealer named Jackie, his ginger hair dyed a grungy blond, which gives him a completely new look.
He's outstanding in the thriller, which was directed by Michael Pearce and also stars
Sydney Sweeney
,
Julianne Moore
and
Fiona Shaw
. Set on a Pennsylvania horse farm, the story centres around Kate, a widow played by Moore, exploring how far she'll go to protect her troubled daughter, who is played by Sweeney. Gleeson is terrifying, kinetic and compulsively watchable in the film.
Domhnall Gleeson in Echo Valley, premiering June 13th on Apple TV+
'He's an uncomfortable fellow, isn't he?' he says of Jackie. 'You have to come up with ways to make that stuff work ... It's about how the atmosphere changes when somebody like that is in the room ... I really enjoyed figuring that out.'
When you're working with actors such as Moore and Sweeney, 'you're up against powerhouses, so you really have to know what you're doing and control that space'.
[
Julianne Moore: 'When a friend really needs to unburden themselves, what are they asking you to do?'
Opens in new window
]
Brad Ingelsby, who wrote the script – he also created and wrote Mare of Easttown, the TV series for which Moore and Kate Winslet won Emmys – consulted a police chief not far from where the film is set. When Gleeson was researching the role he spoke to the officer, too, and watched a lot of documentaries.
'Your job as an actor is to find other aspects to who he is and surprise yourself,' Gleeson says. He loved 'going digging for that stuff, how to flesh him out and make him both human and threatening in ways that are unexpected'.
Finding these other aspects to roles and to himself has been important as his career has progressed. As a younger actor, he says, 'I probably would have kept on playing the same kind of character if I'd been allowed to.
'I was incredibly lucky in the ways that I was enticed out of that, and it paid dividends further on. I get more ambitious not for the scale of the work but for the differences between the work as I get older. And wanting to try new things and wanting to try hard enough that you'll fail.'
There were 'people early on who saw something in me more than I thought I was capable of. I was good at playing tortured and in pain ... and I was maybe good at funny stuff.'
Then Tom Hall put him in a film called Sensation, from 2010, about a naive young Irish woman and a sex worker. 'He just saw something different in me.'
Joe Wright and other directors also saw a more romantic aspect to Gleeson. 'I was never ambitious on that front – didn't think it was possible – and he convinced me I could do it and taught me how to get there.'
Gleeson namechecks Curtis and
Lenny Abrahamson
as other people in the industry who encouraged him to reach further and expect more from himself. I tell him that I met Curtis once and that when he discovered I was Irish he said, 'Oh, I have two sets of friends in Dublin, the Gleesons on the northside and the Hewsons' – which is to say Bono and Ali – 'on the southside.'
'I do love the man,' Gleeson says. 'The world is a better place with him in it.'
Growing up in Malahide, in a house filled with books, creativity was encouraged. Gleeson remembers, when his father was in Braveheart, getting a camcorder and 'seeing how you can cut things together, how a cut influences a feeling ...
'I thought maybe directing or writing was the way I would go. As the eldest I was the one bossing my brothers around all the time. And then, slowly, the acting thing happened. And I was very lucky that it did.'
I can't help noticing that lucky is a word Gleeson uses a lot. He was 'blessed with everything' as a child, he told me earlier, and 'lucky' to be talking to journalists today.
Later, talking about studying film and broadcasting at the
Institute of Art, Design and Technology
in Dún Laoghaire, he says he got 'incredibly lucky' with the 'insanely creative' people in his class there, many of whom are still friends. (He doesn't like to talk much about his personal life, but he met the film producer Juliette Bonass there, and they got married two years ago.)
Perhaps because he is so aware of his good fortune, he doesn't bristle when I raise the subject of nepo babies and the cultural conversation around the children of famous people.
He landed an acting agent as a 16-year-old thanks to a delightfully charming acceptance speech he made on behalf of his father at the Irish Film and Television Awards. Their careers have intertwined a couple of times: his first film role was in McDonagh's short film Six Shooter, in 2004, which starred his father; a decade later he starred with his dad again in John Michael McDonagh's film
Calvary
. (The following year he also appeared with his father and brother Brian in the Enda Walsh play
The Walworth Farce
.)
'It's an important conversation,' he says. 'There are a lot of people whose parents are in the industry. It's important that there is room for other people. I've been so lucky when it comes to what my father did and having the means to be able to pursue acting even when I wasn't making enough money to look after myself.
'I think it's fair for people to talk about that, and it's important that you can acknowledge it. Otherwise you're lying to yourself,' he says. 'I also think it's important that more people can get into the industry who don't have the means of the majority who are in there at the moment.'
Gleeson is well known for helping to raise money for
St Francis Hospice
in Raheny, in north Dublin, grateful for the care they gave his late grandparents.
'My parents set an example with that,' he says. 'Once you've seen what happens at the hospice you can't forget it. It's hard to fathom, the people who work there ... how quietly they go about their wonderful work. You just don't know about it until it's in front of you.'
He still lives in Dublin, and has many of the same friends, but things have changed for Gleeson in terms of his profile. More people pronounce his name correctly, for a start. He's a long way from the time his agent called and told him about one headline that described 'the rapid rise of Downhill Gleeson'.
'It was like a weird little piece of poetry that absolutely puts you in your place,' he says, laughing.
Gleeson is naturally funny in conversation, a joy to spend time with. He created the comedy Frank of Ireland with his brother Brian and his schoolfriend Michael Moloney, who wrote sketches with him for the RTÉ comedy sketch show Your Bad Self. He still gets recognised for that, he says, and regularly meets up with Moloney to write sketches 'just because it's funny'.
A still from Frank of Ireland featuring the characters Frank (Brian Gleeson), Doofus (Domhnall Gleeson) and Liam (Brendan Gleeson). Photograph: Pat Redmond/Merman/Channel 4
Gleeson and the Italian actor Sabrina Impacciatore, who played Valentina in the second season of The White Lotus, are the stars of The Paper, a mockumentary due out later this year. Created by Greg Daniels, and set in a newspaper in the US midwest, it follows on from the American version of The Office.
'I did that at the end of last year and absolutely loved it,' says Gleeson, who also recently filmed 'a few scenes' with the sisters Rooney and Kate Mara for
Werner Herzog
's Bucking Fastard, which has been shooting in Ireland. 'That was an incredible experience,' he says.
Gleeson hasn't yet lined up his next acting gig. 'I'm getting itchy now. I feel like I need to get some demons out in some sort of a way,' he says. 'It's fun that Fountain of Youth and Echo Valley are coming out so close to each other, because they are both so incredibly different projects, which I think is super cool.'
Before he goes I ask about the chocolates he once told a reporter
Tom Cruise
has sent him every year since they starred together in
American Made
. Does he still send them? 'I'm pretty lucky,' Gleeson says, that word popping up again. 'I got lucky again this year. It's amazing. Every year I'm, like, 'It's not going to happen' – and then it happens. We're supposed to save them for visitors, but we can't. They're too delicious.'
[
The Movie Quiz: Ronan, Farrell, Gleeson, Keoghan – who has yet to be directed by Neil Jordan?
Opens in new window
]
Fountain of Youth is on Apple TV+ from May 23rd; Echo Valley is on Apple TV+ from June 13th; Domhnall Gleeson will take part in a public interview with Greg Dyke at
Fastnet Film Festival
, in Schull, Co Cork, on Sunday, May 25th; on Saturday, May 24th, he takes part in its panel discussion Choosing the Right Project, moderated by Ed Guiney of Element Pictures and also including the director Lenny Abrahamson

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Eileen Walsh: Women actors ‘are like avocados. You're nearly ready, nearly ready - then you're ripe, then you've gone off'
Eileen Walsh: Women actors ‘are like avocados. You're nearly ready, nearly ready - then you're ripe, then you've gone off'

Irish Times

timean hour ago

  • Irish Times

Eileen Walsh: Women actors ‘are like avocados. You're nearly ready, nearly ready - then you're ripe, then you've gone off'

What is the longest period of time you have sat in a venue watching a piece of theatre? Three hours? Four? Maybe six for some rare double or triple bill? Well, from 4pm on Saturday, June 14th to 4pm the following day, actor Eileen Walsh will be spending 24 hours on stage at the Cork Opera House , in a one-off performance of The Second Woman. This is an Irish premiere of the show, running during Cork Midsummer Festival , and a co-production with the Cork Opera House. It was originally created in 2017 by Australians Anna Breckon and Nat Randall, and has been performed in various cities around the world, including Sydney, New York and London. The show is described as 'a durational theatre experience', which sounds about right if you are a member of the audience, but how will the person holding everything together on stage for 24 hours manage to endure in this truly epic role? 'I've done 72 hours in labour,' Walsh says matter-of-factly, as she looks through the lunch menu at Dublin's College Green Hotel. 'You stay awake when you have to.' READ MORE The place is busy and noisy, and there is a particularly loud group sitting in the banquette behind me. As we start talking, I fret a little that my recorder won't pick up Walsh's voice amid the general din of cutlery and lunchtime clamour. But later, when I play back the recording, every word of hers is in there, perfectly clear. Of course it is; it's the voice of an actor, trained to enunciate and carry; to cut through all the noise. Walsh is in an orange singlet and black trouser suit, her dark hair in a ponytail. I know what age she is (48, I've done my research) but if I didn't, I couldn't tell by looking at her enviable chameleon face. The question of age is relevant because this theme is woven through The Second Woman, and her character of Virginia. 'Her age is never mentioned,' Walsh says. 'But it's very much about age and ageing, and about how men see us women.' Walsh has been acting for all of her adult life; in theatre, film and TV. Some of her recent appearances were opposite her old friend Cillian Murphy in the adaptation of Claire Keegan's novella, Small Things Like These ; and in Chris O'Dowd's streaming series Small Town, Big Story . The question is, how is she going to prepare for her latest, and longest, performance? 'I don't know if you can prepare for it, because it is all such an unknown,' she says. 'Part of the preparing for it is a bit like letting go, and trusting in the process. Even if you had done it before, it is an unknown because it would be 100 new situations and 100 new people.' Eileen Walsh: Being a mother is so difficult because you are being constantly pulled. Photograph Nick Bradshaw Walsh will not be alone on stage. Her character Virginia plays the same scene 100 times, each lasting seven minutes, each with a different male character, all called Marty, 100 Martys in total. In Cork, as in other cities where the show has been performed, the Martys are mostly amateurs, with some professionals in the mix. Will there be anyone famous? 'I think there are surprises,' Walsh says cautiously. 'I think it will be a mix of people I have worked with before, and who are interested in the theme of the project. But I don't know, and I won't know until I see them on stage on the night – if there are any. The last thing I want is to spend 24 hours wondering if Liam Neeson is coming.' Or indeed, Cillian Murphy. Or Chris O'Dowd. The core of the lines spoken by each character in each scene stays the same, but the scene itself has the possibility of opening in various different ways. The male character, by improvising, can choose what kind of relationship he wants to have with Virginia. None will have rehearsed with Walsh, so until each scene starts, she will have no idea which back story the person playing opposite her will choose. 'The opening of the scene is a window of opportunity for them to say something along the lines of 'As your brother,' if they don't want any romantic interaction. Or, 'As your dad,' or, 'As your friend.' So they can set their own parameters if they want to. Essentially it is all about relationships.' Stage directions allow for various kinds of action, and little pieces of physical exercise and respite for the actor. 'There's an opportunity to have a dance, there's an opportunity to have a drink, there's an opportunity to sit or to eat. You get an opportunity to sit down briefly, but other than that you are on the go. It's very physical. Then there is an opportunity at the end of each scene for the participant to choose to end the interaction in a positive or negative way. As much as my character is having a monumental breakdown, the men remain main characters in their lives all the time.' Walsh does the scene seven times, with some minutes at the end of each hour to reset the stage again. 'The props might have been moved, the drink might have been spilt. You stay on stage the whole time while that is happening, and then every few hours there's a comfort break, to have a pee, or fix make-up.' In The Second Woman Eileen Walsh plays the same scene 100 times, each lasting seven minutes, each with a different male character, all called Marty, 100 Martys in total. Photograph: Nick Bradshaw When the show was performed in London at the Young Vic in 2023, Walsh queued for three hours to watch a three-hour slot. 'We had to wait for people coming out to be able to buy tickets,' she explains. Walsh had no idea that two years later, she herself would be playing this extraordinary role. How do you rehearse for such a role? 'The rehearsal process is two weeks, and by day two you are working with four actors in turn. They will give me a flavour of what to do if someone freezes on the night, or if they are going on too long.' These actors won't be appearing in the performance; they will be trying to work through some of the different possible variations of the same seven-minute scene. But no element of preparation will come close to replicating what the actual night of performance will bring. Both Breckon and Randall will be coming over to Cork from Australia for the rehearsals, and to see her 24-hour performance. The Second Woman will be Cork-born Walsh's first major stage role in Ireland since returning from Britain last October. She lived there for some 30 years, first with husband Stuart McCaffer, and then as a family with their children, Tippi and Ethel. It's impossible to see acting as a life choice in Ireland now. How do you get a mortgage? Have kids? I don't know how young actors do it — Eileen Walsh 'Tippi is 19 and was born in Edinburgh.' (She's named for Tippi Hedren, now 95, who famously appeared in Hitchcock's The Birds; mother of Melanie Griffith, grandmother of Dakota Johnson.) 'I had watched The Birds, and thought Tippi was such a lovely name,' Walsh says. 'Ethel was born in London and she is 16. The girls were partly responsible for us moving back. Tippi was really interested in coming back and maybe doing drama school here. And we found a lovely school for Ethel. It kind of made sense.' When I ask if her children will be going to see the show, Walsh says her rehearsal time in Cork coincides with Ethel's Junior Cert. She thus won't be available at home for reassuring in-person hugs with her exam student. 'Being a mother is so difficult because you are being constantly pulled.' Tippi and Ethel have a better understanding and tolerance of parents being temporarily absent for work than most of their peers, having been raised in a household with two creative parents (McCaffer is a sculptor). After being away from Ireland for 30 years, both the paucity of available housing and the cost of it was a deep shock to Walsh when they returned. 'Looking for a rental for two adults and two kids, the costs were eye watering. Not only could we not get in the door for a lot of places, but the costs involved in trying to rent a two-bedroom flat while we were looking for a house were crazy. 'The costs are crippling. Dublin is laughing in the face of London when it comes to housing prices.' They did eventually find somewhere. 'We bought a wreck of a house we are desperately trying to do up.' Walsh wonders aloud how actors in Ireland today, especially in Dublin, are managing to develop a professional career while also finding affordable housing. 'I moved out of home at 17 and it was possible to pay your rent – and also have a great time. It is just not possible any more, and I don't know how younger versions of me are coping now. 'Financially it's having the result of turning acting into a middle-class profession, because what young kids from a working class background can afford to hire rehearsal space and to live within Dublin? It's impossible to see acting as a life choice in Ireland now. How do you get a mortgage? Have kids? I don't know how young actors do it. Besides, of course, moving away from Ireland.' Eileen Walsh: 'I moved out of home at 17 and it was possible to pay your rent and also have a great time ... I don't know how younger versions of me are coping now.' Photograph: Nick Bradshaw Back in 1996, when Walsh was still a student, she was cast in the role of Runt opposite Cillian Murphy as Pig in Enda Walsh's seminal then new play, Disco Pigs. (The two Walshes are not related.) The whole thing was a sensational success for all three of them, and burnished their names brightly. When the film version was cast a few years later, Murphy remained in the role of Pig, while Elaine Cassidy was given the role of Runt. Walsh said at the time she didn't even know the auditions were being held. It's a topic that has come up over and over again in interviews during the intervening years, the What If's around that casting. It's clear that Walsh was deeply hurt. She was 'heartbroken' at the decision to not cast her in this role that she had first brought to life. One can only imagine the strain it put on her friendship with Murphy at the time, for a start. It must also have been difficult for Elaine Cassidy to keep hearing publicly how something that was nothing to do with her had so affected the morale of another fellow actor. 'I feel like I've spoken a lot about that,' Walsh says now. 'It was a lesson for me very early on. And it wasn't the first or the last time I got bad news. And just because the role was yours doesn't mean it stays yours. They are heartbreaking things to learn. Or if someone says they want you for a job and then they change their mind, that's a f***ing killer as well. It's not something that gets better with age. It just burns more, because the opportunities are better, so the burn is greater.' [ From the archive: Cillian Murphy and Eileen Walsh on 'Disco Pigs': 'It was the ignorance of youth' Opens in new window ] At this point in our conversation, there are a number of other expletives scattered by Walsh, as if this old and sad wound has triggered some kind of latent, but still important, emotion. We talk for a while about how ageing in the acting profession – wherever one is located in the world – frequently works against women in a way it does not against men. 'I think women are constantly being told that for men, acting is a marathon and for women it's a sprint, because you have a short time to make an impact. You're like an avocado,' she says. I ask her to repeat that last word, unsure if I've heard it correctly. 'Avocado,' she says firmly. 'You're nearly ready, nearly ready – then you're ripe, then you've gone off. That's what you're made to feel like. Do it now, while you're lovely and young and your boobs are still upright, or whatever, While you're taut. And I think that is a total f***ing lie. It might be a marathon for men, but to remain in this business as a woman, it's like a decathlon. You have to f***ing go and go and go and it takes tenaciousness and being stubborn and strident to know your values. 'Men are allowed to feel old and to be seen like a fine wine, whereas I think for women it just takes so much boldness to stay in this profession as you age. And also to play parts where you don't have to always be the f***ing mother or the disappointed wife.' Eileen Walsh as Eileen Furlong in Small Things Like These. Photograph: Enda Bowe In the last year, Walsh has appeared in three significant screen productions: Small Things Like These; Say Nothing , the Disney + adaptation of Patrick Radden Keefe's book about the Troubles in Northern Ireland in which she plays Bridie Dolan, the aunt of Dolours and Marian Price who was blinded in a bomb-making accident; and Small Town, Big Story in the role of Catherine, a wheelchair user who is having a steamy affair with a colleague. In Small Things Like These, she co-stars with Oscar-winning Cillian Murphy, three decades on from Disco Pigs. 'A long circle completed,' she says. [ Small Things Like These: Cillian Murphy's performance is fiercely internalised in a film emblematic of a changing Ireland Opens in new window ] Claire Keegan's novella is set in 1985 in Co Wexford, and focuses on what happens when Bill Furlong, a fuel merchant, husband to Eileen Furlong and father of five daughters, discovers what is going on at the local convent, which is also a laundry that serves the town. Murphy – whom she calls Cill – contacted her when she was playing Elizabeth Proctor in Arthur Miller's The Crucible at the National Theatre in London. He asked her to read the script for Small Things, which Enda Walsh had written. 'I know that Cill as producer was very intent on working with people he knows and loves and worked with previously and had kind of relationships with. The whole movie was spotted with friends and long-time collaborators.' After she had read the script, she went to meet director Tim Mielants. She and Murphy 'had to do something similar to a chemistry meet. That meeting was filmed when we worked on some scenes together.' Small Things Like These: Eileen Walsh as Eileen Furlong and Cillian Murphy as Bill Furlong. Photograph: Enda Bowe/Lionsgate The two play the married couple in the movie, Bill and Eileen Furlong. 'It's a very tired relationship. They are a long time into the marriage, and they are very used to each other, so it's a no chemistry-chemistry meet, if that makes sense.' Walsh got the part. I remind her of what she has said earlier in the interview about being fed up of playing roles of mothers and disappointed wives, which one could see as a fair description of her role of Eileen Furlong. This role, Walsh makes clear, was very different from any kind of generic cliche of playing a mother or wife. 'Playing Eileen, she wasn't a put-upon wife, but was a mirror of what an awful lot of women were like at that time in Ireland. [ Irish Times readers pick Claire Keegan's Small Things Like These as the best Irish book of the 21st century Opens in new window ] 'Claire Keegan's writing is such a gift to any actor. Claire's story behind everybody is very dark. Nobody gets an easy ride with a Claire Keegan character, and that's a real draw to any actor. She doesn't soft soap anything. For me to play that character, to play Eileen, meant I saw so much of my own mother and the women that I grew up underneath, [women] I grew up looking up to. It was a hard time. They were trying to make money stretch very hard, at a time when dinners would have to be simple and very much planned to the last slice of bread. They were not women spouting rainbows.' As it happens, Walsh's next big upcoming role after the Cork Midsummer Festival will be that of Jocasta, Oedipus's mother, in Marina Carr's new play, The Boy. It will open at the Abbey in the autumn as part of the Dublin Theatre Festival. She'll play a mother in this interpretation of a Greek myth, certainly, but again, no ordinary one. Rehearsals start in July. [ From the archive: Eileen Walsh: How I reconcile motherhood with playing Medea Opens in new window ] Meanwhile, back to her modern-day Greek marathon in Cork this month. Due to the length of the show, there are a variety of ticket types the public can avail of. You can buy a ticket for the entire 24 hours, and either stay at the venue for the whole time or leave and return. On return, you may have to queue again and wait for a seat to become free. Other tickets are being sold for scheduled time slots for a number of hours. If you choose to come for the 2am slot, for instance, you'll pay a bit less for your ticket. There will also be some tickets available at the door, although it's likely you'll have to queue. There will be pop-up food and drink venues in the foyer to provide sustenance. The Cork Opera House has a capacity of 1,000 seats. If those seats keep turning over a during the 24 hours, thousands of people will have an opportunity to see this remarkable highlight of Cork Midsummer Festival: truly a night like no other this year in Ireland.

12 must-see artworks at the RHA Annual Exhibition 2025
12 must-see artworks at the RHA Annual Exhibition 2025

Irish Times

time2 hours ago

  • Irish Times

12 must-see artworks at the RHA Annual Exhibition 2025

It is the largest and longest-running open-submission exhibition in Ireland, and the 195th RHA Annual features 422 pieces by academicians and artists old and new. It will also be the final Annual for Patrick Murphy, who retires as director of the Royal Hibernian Academy of Arts at the end of 2025. He took up the role in 1998, since when the RHA has regained its relevance in the Irish art infrastructure, revamped its Ely Place headquarters, elected its first woman president, revised its charter and celebrated its 200th anniversary. [ From surviving dissent and debt to celebrating artists: The Royal Hibernian Academy at 200 Opens in new window ] The RHA Annual Exhibition itself is selected by a committee of artists. Their choices, this year from 4,565 submissions, are made anonymously, and are exhibited alongside pieces from RHA members, plus 11 invited artists. Despite not including performance or site-specific works, the RHA Annual is often said to offer a snapshot of the state of art-making today. So with all that going on, where do you start? We pick 12 works on which to feast your eyes. READ MORE Abigail O'Brien: Susanna and the Elders I & II 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Susanna and the Elders I, by Abigail O'Brien. Photograph courtesy of the artist 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Susanna and the Elders II, by Abigail O'Brien. Photograph courtesy of the artist Coming from the Bible's Book of Daniel, the story of Susanna and the Elders has been a pervy staple in art history, as two fully clothed men stare lustfully at the semi-naked Susanna. Rubens had a go, but it took Artemisia Gentileschi to give a sense of how Susanna herself might have felt, when she painted it, in multiple versions, in the 1600s. Abigail O'Brien's large-scale photographs show a female display mannequin perched on a chair in a junk or antique shop from a pair of angles. More or less naked ('she' is wearing a hat and necklace), the images show the ludicrous proportions that have been manufactured to characterise female 'beauty'. While the setting may hopefully imply how outdated these standards are, the images also underline the continuing objectification of women, in commerce as well as in art. O'Brien is the RHA's first woman president in its 200-plus-year history; her preface to the exhibition catalogue sets out the gender inequalities that women artists still face. Despite greater parity in representation in the Annual, their work is still consistently undervalued, including by the artists themselves. Institutional inequalities also persist in our public collections. That said, we may be doing better than they are in Britain. O'Brien notes that the UK Royal Academy of Arts, in London, has been going for more than 250 years, yet only held its first solo show by a woman artist in its main galleries in 2024. As she writes: 'most of all, we need to keep talking about it.' Caoimhe McGuckin: Wellspring 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Wellspring, by Caoimhe McGuckin. Photograph courtesy of the artist While The Fall, a large architectural pavilion by Ben Mullen, Peter Maybury and Tom de Paor, initially grabs the attention as it eats up a large chunk of the upper main gallery, there are some very powerful smaller sculptural gems to savour. Áine Ryan's 'Go Make the Tea' He Said is a delicate pâte-de-verre trio of sculptures on a silver tray. What at first appear to be little biscuits are instead a pair of breasts. Serving up subversion with every sip? Alongside this, Caoimhe McGuckin's Wellspring is a cast-wax model of the human heart. Instead of aorta there are stubs of bright red crayons. It may bring to mind an idea of human creativity beginning at childhood, but it's also worth realising that the sculpture very strongly resembles a grenade. Elaine Byrne: Losing All Sense of Time 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Losing All Sense of Time, by Elaine Byrne. Photograph courtesy of the artist Elaine Byrne's sybaritic image of a swimming pool is photographed in vivid colour, as tanned families and loving couples disport themselves on fake rocks. So far so very escapist. But the pool is built out over the sea, which threatens to engulf the bathers on one side. Suddenly the thin fencing seems ludicrously fragile – as ludicrous, perhaps, as building a swimming pool at the edge of the ocean. While frequently beautiful, Byrne's work tends to have a political edge, so look closer still and see that the sea is a totally different hue of blue, and the real rocks edging into the picture are different again from their created cousins next door. The idea of sunbathing at the end of the world calls to mind Sun & Sea, the opera performance that came to Cork Midsummer in 2023, after winning the Golden Lion for Lithuania at the Venice Biennale in 2019. Bernadette Kiely: No Promised Land 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: No Promised Land, by Bernadette Kiely. Courtesy of the artist A highly accomplished painter, Bernadette Kiely has been increasingly focusing her subtle eye on the climate crisis . Her arresting oil painting No Promised Land seems as if it is literally saturated, as a bright-red delivery truck is swamped in the midst of a flooded plain. Conjuring all the nuances of greens and greys, and with a brilliant eye for composition, Kiely shows how easily our landscapes, and our sense of safety, can be obliterated by the power of natural forces. We can just make out roads, hedges and the tops of trees, but if we don't do something soon, the future could become a highly inhospitable place – even in Ireland's gentle fields. Ally Nolan: The Men/Na Fir 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: The Men/Na Fir, by Ally Nolan. Courtesy of the artist You'll need to go to the passage behind the RHA's reception desk to find this large mixed-media panel. Based on Thomas H Mason's photograph Four Aran Men, Inis Meáin, from the National Museum of Ireland , the artist has layered digitally printed organza, linen, wool and appliqué, complete with hand-woven embroidery. Nolan is an award-winning fashion graduate with a master's in art history, a background that tells in this richly complex work that brings the original black-and-white print to life. It shows the vibrancy of the layers of knowledge embedded in the legacies of craft, while underlining the craft embodied in some of today's technologies. Ronnie Hughes: Chromatic II 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Chromatic II, by Ronnie Hughes. Courtesy of the artist There is a joyful exuberance at this year's Annual not seen since before the Covid pandemic. This is not to say that artists are ignoring the panoply of problems the world is facing, but there is nonetheless a burst of colour, in painting particularly. A cluster of canvases in one of the upper galleries includes Tom Climent's Contour Lines, John Fitzsimons's Generation and Ann Marie Webb's Back Light. Chromatic II, by Ronnie Hughes, shows how the simple-seeming geometries of colour and line can make the eyes and mind dance. With none of the frenetic, brain-melting energies of full-on op-art, this work gets behind and beyond language to celebrate the power of colour in all its abstract glories. Cathal Carolan: Censored 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Censored, by Cathal Carolan. Courtesy of the artist In the Annual hang, the RHA's atrium is reserved for highly wantable small works, and this year there are plenty to shine. Conor Horgan's photograph of pinked-up oyster mushrooms comes from his Disco Vegetables series, Stephanie Rowe's Auction II captures a moment of intensity in jewel-like form, while Tara O'Reilly's Night Worker is a standout of a small portrait. Within this group Cathal Carolan's Censored continues to draw the eye. A headscarved woman is seated on a bus or train, looking away from the camera, her eye line bisected by a window panel. While this anonymising gesture is powerful in itself, what makes the work unforgettable is that this woman, out of context and perhaps even out of her home country, has all the qualities of posture and light of a Vermeer. Value and worth are curious notions, dependent entirely on the arbitrary whims of place and time. Pauline Rowan: Awake, Between the Gates 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Awake, Between the Gates, by Pauline Rowan. Courtesy of the artist There's a vast novel of story in this photograph. A baby sleeps while what we presume is its mother lies awake. It could be a moment in any new parent's life, yet the pair are on a mattress on a floor, the rumpled sheet not quite tucked in. Quietly heartbreaking, the image catches at homelessness, dispossession, determination and love. The work was actually made when Rowan moved with her newborn daughter to live in a house on grounds open to the public. When the work was shown at Photo Museum Ireland at the beginning of this year, the artist recalled that tourists would stand and look through the windows. Adding biographical narrative to understanding a work of art can sometimes expand but often limits it. You don't need to know the backstory to find this an unforgettable image. Agata Stoinska: Reverberations 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Reverberations, by Agata Stoinska. Courtesy of the artist Many artists have their eyes on nature in this year's Annual. Martin Gale imagines a return of wolves in a pair of paintings, while Tony G Murray's duo of Silent Forest prints leads you to imagine where myths of tree creatures may have come from. In this vein, Agata Stoinska's large-scale forest photograph brings you right to the heart of the emergence of legend, with a clever doubling device that manages to avoid becoming glib. Instead the mirrored trees create a portal, and everything is calling you to want to walk through. Rae Perry: Resolutions 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Resolutions, by Rae Perry. Courtesy of the artist The US-born, Dublin-based artist Rae Perry is largely self-taught, but her time in Florence, where she studied drawing, shows in her use of light and in the soft and rich Florence-school-inspired hues of her canvas. Nicely enigmatic, Resolutions is also tender and intimate. Amid the portraits crowding the exhibition – from Robert Ballagh's La Républicaine, to Emma Stroude's trio in An Acorn or the Sky, to the Portrait of Tony Strickland by Neil Shawcross – Resolutions stands out, quietly. Michael Wann: City Limits (Those Trees Will Have to Go) 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: City Limits (Those Trees Will Have to Go), by Michael Wann. Courtesy of the artist Adding a hint of red to his more usual shades of charcoal grey, Michael Wann gets away from the delicacies of trees, rural byways and rustic ruins with another way of looking at nature. Here the artist has collaged paper over canvas to lay out what looks like a much-folded cityscape – perhaps, in this imaginary world, looted from a planner's office somewhere, or salvaged from the chaos of some postapocalyptic future. [ Dorothy Cross: 'I don't think art is about talent really. It's about a route you take' Opens in new window ] Tower blocks reach for the leaden skies, while lower-rise civic buildings, and what might be edge-of-town sports or education complexes, come forward to meet the eye. As the city creeps beyond its limits, an area of vegetation is marked for destruction, reminding us of the Australian writer Tim Winton's comment that 'architecture is what we console ourselves with once we've obliterated our natural landscapes'. Vera Klute: Lustre II 195th RHA Annual Exhibition: Lustre II, by Vera Klute. Courtesy of the artist Extraordinarily versatile, Vera Klute is a renowned portrait artist. Her oil painting Slope, also in the exhibition, is a lush jungle of a canvas delving into the infinite varieties of our often overlooked riverbanks. Before you get to that, however, you'll have met her Lustre II, a marvellous sculpture in the RHA foyer that, depending on your perspective, imagination and predilections, could be a strange alien craft, a giant fuchsia or something slightly sexual. And that's the glories of art in a nutshell. The 195th RHA Annual Exhibition in association with McCann FitzGerald is at the Royal Hibernian Academy of Arts , in Dublin, until August 3rd

Walking Ghosts by Mary O'Donnell: An ambitious, dystopian and horny collection
Walking Ghosts by Mary O'Donnell: An ambitious, dystopian and horny collection

Irish Times

time2 hours ago

  • Irish Times

Walking Ghosts by Mary O'Donnell: An ambitious, dystopian and horny collection

Walking Ghosts Author : Mary O'Donnell ISBN-13 : 9781917453226 Publisher : Mercier Press Guideline Price : €16.99 The opening story of Mary O'Donnell's new collection sets a pattern for what is to come by depicting the Covid-19 lockdowns as an instance of paralysis in the Joycean fashion. Its protagonist struggles to live meaningfully in a world turned upside-down by 'that microscopic ball with the little cartoon feet', and many of the characters who follow experience a similar longing to shatter the nagging stasis of their lives. On one level these are the walking ghosts of the title but, on another, they are ciphers for the old-guard tropes of Irish literary writing – the contested field, the London abortion, and so on – which O'Donnell here seeks to reanimate and, in one or two cases, cast aside entirely. No surprise, so, that many of her protagonists are survivors of Ireland's literary-industrial complex (one rather brilliant tale, The Stolen Man, concerns a writing student succumbing to the seductive creative freedoms of Galway). Yet, after several stories content to probe the margins of suburban realism, O'Donnell suddenly delivers a jolt of genre energy halfway through The Space Between Louis and Me. It is the kind of story that makes you go back and re-read it from the start (to say any more would be to ruin the surprise). READ MORE Soon after comes The Creators, the most striking story here, which offers a reflective extrapolation of our contemporary climate crisis. Set in a future of 'fear and extreme heat' where Scotland's Hebrides have been transformed into 'Garden Isles', this is a deftly sketched portrait of desperation and desire, one worthy of inclusion on the eclectic shelf of insular dystopian fiction by Irish women (think The Bray House by Éilís Ní Dhuibhne or Last Ones Left Alive by Sarah Davis-Goff). Walking Ghosts is a work of quiet ambition rich in standout descriptions ('He looks like a horse in a cubist painting'). Moreover, this is a horny collection, one happy to linger on female desire through chances taken – or not – on lost loves or intoxicating holiday acquaintances. Yet the most intriguing flirtation here is that of O'Donnell with speculative fiction. This paradoxically both elevates and anchors the proceedings. Because, yes, the future may be dire, but its calamitous potential may yet be dampened by the choices we make now.

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