Domhnall Gleeson: ‘Being the son of a successful actor is a privilege'
When Domhnall Gleeson was 14 years old he visited the pyramids of Giza. The Irish actor from The Revenant, Brooklyn and the recent Star Wars trilogy, in which he played General Hux, was essentially unimpressed with the … no, wait, let's do the name. Domhnall. It's still a problem. People still get it wrong. Even people from Gleeson's native Dublin. Even Brad Pitt, who once sent him a note asking: 'Why the extra M?' So here it is, once more, maybe finally. It's pronounced, in Gleeson's own words, 'like 'tonal', but with a 'd''.
'I never expect anybody to know how to pronounce it,' he says, chortling away in a swish Parisian hotel. 'It's a tough name and I would get it wrong if
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The Guardian
41 minutes ago
- The Guardian
I thought it was being gay that made my life so difficult. Then, at 50, I got an eye-opening diagnosis …
My earliest memory is of feeling different. I'm gay, and grew up in the 1980s, in a tough, working-class town in the north of England at the height of the Aids crisis. My gayness was obvious in the way I walked and talked. I was bullied at school, called a 'poof', 'pansy' and 'fairy'; other children did impressions of me with their wrists limp. I experienced physical violence, too. I was shoved, kicked, my head was slammed against the wall. I was punched in the face more than once. But it wasn't just my sexuality that set me apart. I was 'weird'. I had a rigid attachment to routine and was terribly shy, sometimes freezing in social situations. I needed to be on my own for long periods; not easy when you're in a family of five and share a bedroom with your brother. I was obsessive, channelling this at first into the Star Wars films, then the Narnia novels and, as I got older, Madonna. Lots of kids have short-lived interests but mine were intense: I'd collect facts and statistics about Madonna, memorise the chart positions of her singles, then reel them off to anyone who would listen. If anyone criticised her, I took it as a personal attack and would be distraught. I was easily upset in other ways. I was sensitive to touch and hated being cuddled, I burst into tears at the sound of fireworks. If I heard someone eating with their mouth open, I'd put my hands over my ears and run out of the room screaming. My anxiety was so acute, I'd bite my nails until my fingers bled. I found a few activities soothing. I had a security blanket, which I'd twiddle between my fingers. And I found comfort in repeating words or phrases, over and over again. Sometimes, I'd musicalise snatches of dialogue and skip around the house, singing them. On occasion, I'd lose control in the form of 'meltdowns' – usually before school. I'd collapse on the floor, my body spasming with rage and tears, yanking off my glasses and throwing them across the room. When I was nine, I was sent away on a camp with the Cub Scouts. When I realised I had to share a tent with some of the boys who bullied me, I started being violently sick. I shivered and sweated so badly that my sleeping bag became soaking wet. The Scout leaders removed me from the tent and took me to sleep in their hut. When my parents came to collect me the next day, I felt a relief like I'd never felt before. A lot of my 'weird' behaviour did fit with what, in the 80s, was considered to be 'gay'. Adults would comment that I was 'dramatic', 'oversensitive' or 'overemotional'. I worked hard at school and was neat and fastidious – all seen as effeminate traits – earning me the label 'girly swot'. In the working-class north of the 80s, nobody discussed mental health, let alone neurodivergence. There was no way that, as well as being gay, I could entertain the thought that there might be something different about my brain. So I tried to camouflage my weirdness. I copied other people's behaviour and did everything I could to fit in. In 1994, I got into Cambridge University. Here, it was OK to be studious and gay. But I was now different for another reason: as a working-class kid from a comprehensive school, I was in a minority. The other students, mostly from private schools, did impressions of my northern accent. Sometimes, it was affectionate but often it was cruel. One of my tutors used to make me read out my work and encouraged the other students to laugh at me. I trained myself to avoid saying dangerous words like 'cook', 'baby', 'Coke', or that all-time killer for anyone from Lancashire, 'fair hair'. I was often blunt with people, which was put down to my being from the north. But I was also incredibly anxious. For one entire term at Cambridge – in my second year, when I was sharing a room – I woke up every morning and vomited into the sink. In the late 90s, I started working in the media, an industry I knew would be welcoming to gay men. But work pressures seemed to have an impact on me more than others. When plans changed at the last minute, which happened often in TV, I wasn't just stressed, it felt as if the world was ending. In the open-plan office I was surrounded by TVs and radios blasting and colleagues tapping and talking. The noise felt like an assault; but it only seemed to affect me. I got a job as a correspondent on Channel 4 News and became the subject of vitriol. Twitter users commented I was 'ridiculously camp' or 'double gay, even … he kills my ears'. The late Sunday Times critic AA Gill compared me to another effeminate man, declaring I was 'to arts reporting what Wayne Sleep was to darts'. Although everyone is affected by criticism, with me it caused a hollow ache that lasted for weeks. It hurt so much because I assumed the abuse was homophobic. It took me right back to the school playground. Working on a separate TV documentary series, I was told it had to be re-edited to make me less camp. I objected but received an email response telling me to 'MAN UP'. Of course, this could be upsetting to anyone. But I couldn't control my fury. The bosses told me I was behaving 'hysterically' – and I probably was. But I was also scared by how badly I'd lost control of my emotions. As a teenager, I'd discovered that alcohol could not only calm my anxiety but also allowed me to be a different version of myself; one that wasn't shy but funny and outrageous. On any night out, I'd be the one more drunk than anyone else, doing whatever it took to get a laugh, stripteasing or skinny-dipping, initiating games of spin the bottle. As I moved up the career ladder, the parties I went to became more extravagant: I went to events sponsored by record labels where I was picked up in limos and plied with champagne. I was often at celebrity parties. I got so drunk at one event that Tara Palmer-Tomkinson told me that I looked wasted. I struggled to maintain romantic relationships, with boyfriends often rejecting me for being 'full-on', and fell into a cycle of casual sex. Growing up, the few gay men I'd seen portrayed in the media were hypersexual – so I just thought this was what we did. At the end of many a night out I'd stagger on to a sex club or sauna for anonymous, sometimes reckless sex. Twice, I was robbed by a man I'd taken home. By the time I hit 30 I'd never had a boyfriend. It also dawned on me that I'd never had sex sober. I became lonely – terribly, breathtakingly, soul-shatteringly lonely. I decided to pursue my childhood dream and started writing fiction. But my first novel, the loosely autobiographical The Madonna of Bolton, was rejected by agents and publishers for 10 years. Much of the rejection was homophobic: one editor called my manuscript 'too explicit for comfort'; another said that having a gay character was too 'niche'. I thought the cutting despair I felt was gay shame, that after a childhood of absorbing the message that my sexuality was wrong, this was still what I believed deep down. Perhaps it was also why my drinking had become so self-destructive and I was punishing myself by engaging in dangerous sex. I started seeing a therapist, and quit drinking. I crowdfunded that first book, and it was followed by more successful novels with a traditional publisher. My childhood dream had come true – but I couldn't enjoy it. I still experienced homophobia, with one publisher commenting that she didn't want me to be 'so explicit on the wider LGTB [sic] issues'. And I struggled to deal with the publishing industry's treatment of working-class authors, especially when contracts took 10 months to process or royalty payments were late by up to 18 months. While some authors can be diplomatic in these situations, I was told by my agent that I was rude and lacked tact. I'd become fixated on the injustice, a storm raging in my head for weeks. A few years ago a younger family member began to be investigated for autism. So I started researching it beyond the stereotypes. I learned that autism can express itself differently from person to person. While some people are hypersensitive to sounds and touch, others can be hyposensitive – the opposite. The same is true of emotions. I learned that the autistic spectrum isn't a straight line going from less autistic to more autistic; some people liken it to a pie chart, with different sized slices representing different traits and abilities. I wondered whether autism could explain some of my behaviour. But as far as I knew, autistic people were also supposed to be devoid of empathy, whereas I struggled to control mine: I got so wound up watching Mr Bates vs the Post Office that I couldn't sleep for weeks. Autistic people were supposed to struggle with relationships. But I'd had several close friendships for decades and by this time I'd fallen in love and got married. Then a member of my husband's family was diagnosed with autism, and I couldn't help but wonder whether our relationship worked because he was used to people whose brains were wired differently. In June 2024, I spoke to my GP. I was referred to a team of clinical psychologists specialising in late-in-life diagnosis. It's difficult to untangle behaviour that's symptomatic of neurodivergence from a personality that has been formed over decades of life experience; in my case, hyper-sensitivity and anger as a result of sustained homophobia and class snobbery. There was a waiting list of several months, pages of forms to fill in, and interviews with figures from my childhood that culminated in a five-hour assessment. You are autistic, they said. When I heard the words, my heart was hammering, my breath short and fast. But mainly what I felt was relief. After years of being misunderstood – of misunderstanding myself – I finally had the right framework to build up a better picture of who I truly am. A lot of my behaviour started to make sense: twiddling my security blanket was what I now recognise as 'stimming' or self-stimulatory behaviour. As was my repetition of certain words and phrases, a habit known as 'echolalia'. Then I learned that rejection sensitive dysphoria and emotional dysregulation are common among autistic people. As is anxiety, although autism in itself doesn't produce anxiety, rather it seems to be caused by the challenges of living as a neurodivergent person in a neurotypical world. I was also diagnosed with ADHD, so needed to get my head around a second condition too. I discovered that some characteristics of autism and ADHD work against each other: autism needs routine and my ADHD needed spontaneity. But other characteristics overlap to create a heightened experience: I used alcohol to calm the anxiety produced by living with autism and, as ADHD causes lower levels of dopamine in the brain, I was driven to activities that boosted it – binge-drinking, risky sex. Understanding this released me from years of self-blame and guilt. In time, I've come to see that my neurodivergence has advantages. I feel emotions intensely but this also includes positive emotions such as happiness and joy. My capacity for emotion and empathy has been a great help in writing character-based fiction. My obsessive nature and need to spend long periods on my own mean I'm suited to immersing myself in the fictional worlds I create. And, while my ADHD helps ignite the initial sparks of creativity, my autism kicks in to make sure I knuckle down and bring these ideas to fruition. But I have also felt profound grief. This is primarily for the past, for all the missed opportunities, all the things I lost or had taken away from me. All the times I was criticised for behaviours that I didn't realise were symptomatic of my autism. I also wonder what my life would have looked like if I had been diagnosed earlier: would I have applied for Cambridge or the job at Channel 4 News? Would I have persisted in writing fiction if I'd known that the rejection would cause me so much hurt? Of course, I should have been able to do these things with accommodations made for my neurodivergence, but the reality is that these allowances didn't exist 30 – or even 10 – years ago. I'm beginning to make adjustments to my life, securing the accommodations I need. I've invested in noise-reducing earplugs, a weighted blanket that regulates my nervous system, and no longer stop myself singing randomly musicalised phrases. I only commit to social occasions I know make me feel good about myself. Likewise, I avoid sensory environments I know will make me uncomfortable and recover from sensory overwhelm by going for long walks in nature. Professionally, I ask for clear, unambiguous communication and I've also switched literary agents; my new representative handles the business side of my career to avoid any conflict. Recently, there have been claims that autism is being 'over-diagnosed'. Given that it took me until the age of 50 to receive a diagnosis, I'd challenge this. I'd also like to challenge some of the stereotypes that prevail – not to mention the prejudice. Now I've written this article, I accept that I'll always be seen as autistic. Some people might use this against me; if I have any disagreements, my point of view could be dismissed as an expression of my autism. But I also know that, at 50, there's probably less time ahead of me than there is behind. And with that knowledge, I embark on a new journey, to finally start living as myself, to embrace my neurodivergence and create a life that works best for me. I'm ready. Matt Cain's latest novel One Love is published by Headline (£9.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
Metro
an hour ago
- Metro
Romeo Beckham and Kim Turnbull 'split' after she's drawn into family feud
Romeo Beckham has split from his girlfriend Kim Turnbull weeks after she joined him for David Beckham's 50th celebrations, it is reported. It is thought the pair have split after seven months together, amid reports of a family feud between the Beckham family and eldest son Brooklyn Beckham, 26. Friends said things 'fizzled out' between Romeo, 22, and Kim, 26, in what's been an 'amicable' split that has 'nothing to do' with Brooklyn's wife Nicola Peltz blaming her for the Beckham rift. A friend of the pair told the Mail: 'Romeo and Kim are both young and they had a lovely time together but at that age things don't always last forever and they decided to split up. 'They have been friendly since and have even been at the same venues. It's a huge shame, particularly as David and Victoria really adored her and thought she made Romeo happy but it wasn't to be. 'It happened a couple of weeks ago and relations have remained friendly between them.' 'David and Victoria would hate for the view to be that they split because of Nicola and Brooklyn because that simply isn't the case. 'The fact is that Kim has got a really busy career as a DJ and Romeo has a busy work life too, there is lots of travelling for both of them and having a relationship at this time isn't all that conducive to their lives.' Over the past few months, it's been whispered that the Beckham feud was between Brooklyn and Romeo. It was rumoured Brooklyn dated Kim before his younger brother in 2016, causing a rift between the pair. However, Cruz Beckham, 20, weighed in on the rumours in a now-deleted social media comment, in which he clarified: 'Brooklyn and Kim never dated.' TMZ reported that Brooklyn and Romeo have fallen out since Kim came onto the scene, as Brooklyn and Kim dated as teenagers in 2016 The outlet claimed that Brooklyn and his wife Nicola Peltz Beckham question if Kim has the right intentions when it comes to dating Romeo. They also added that sources informed them that Brooklyn and his wife will no longer attend family events where Kim will be present. Since reports of the feud came to light, they haven't exactly been shut down by the Beckhams, with Brooklyn making various cryptic comments. A source previously told Metro that Brooklyn is keen to patch things up with his father and was sad not to attend his big 50th bash. 'Brooklyn feels disappointed in himself for not attending David's 50th birthday party,' they said. 'He wants things to go back to how they were, but it feels as if the divide has separated the family deeply.' And an insider explained that Victoria was desperately hoping her son will 'come around'. 'She's hoping Brooklyn will come around and see things for what they are,' they said. 'They've always been a close-knit family and seeing how things are now has been devastating for Victoria and David.' Brooklyn appears to have shot a series of public digs at his family over the past few months. To view this video please enable JavaScript, and consider upgrading to a web browser that supports HTML5 video He shared a video of himself and Nicola on Instagram with a caption vowing to always 'choose [her]'. He wrote: 'My whole world x I will love you forever x I always choose you baby x you're the most amazing person i know xx me and you forever baby.' In response, Cruz posted a message dedicated to his mum, dad, and siblings on his own Instagram story. 'Victoria is upset that things have escalated to this point. Brooklyn has made his position clear in his recent post and that has left both herself and David heartbroken,' the insider told Metro. 'They will always be there for Brooklyn, and as Victoria said in a recent interview, she's a brilliant mum to her children – they all mean the world to her. 'But things at the moment feel divided and Brooklyn's remarks haven't helped the situation. They are desperate for things to improve.' More Trending A source close to Brooklyn told Metro: 'It's sad that a simple statement of love and appreciation for his wife is being manipulated into something that it isn't.' In a recent interview, Brooklyn also appeared to backtrack on the origin of his hot sauce range name, Cloud23. On the official website for the sauce, according to The Mirror a member of Brooklyn's team replied to a question about the name, writing: 'The 23 included in our brand is a warm nod to Brooklyn's father, David Beckham, who wore number 23 while playing for Real Madrid and LA Galaxy.' However, in a chat to Glamour Brooklyn gave a different story, explaining: 'The 23 stands for our engagement date and my age back then.' Got a story? If you've got a celebrity story, video or pictures get in touch with the entertainment team by emailing us celebtips@ calling 020 3615 2145 or by visiting our Submit Stuff page – we'd love to hear from you. MORE: Brooklyn Beckham and Nicola Peltz's cryptic dig at 'fake news' as family rift rages on MORE: Mel B's huge 50th birthday celebrations incomplete without two Spice Girls MORE: David Beckham says 'one or two' Manchester United players are 'disrespecting' the club
Daily Mirror
2 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
Inside Romeo Beckham's split with Brooklyn's 'ex' and what it means for feud
Brooklyn Beckham and his wife Nicola Peltz have been at odds with the Beckham family in recent weeks, but cpucouldld the end of Romeo Beckham's romance with Kim Turnbull bring about a reconciliation? Could the bitter Peltz-Beckham war be coming to an end? The news that Romeo Beckham has split from his girlfriend Kim Turnbull may see relations between Brooklyn Beckham and his family finally improve after weeks of tension and snubs. Aspiring chef Brooklyn and his wife Nicola Peltz have kept their distance from the Beckham clan recently - even missing David Beckham's 50th birthday celebrations in April - and Romeo's choice of romantic partner was said to be the catalyst for the rift. Earlier this year, it was suggested that Romeo's brother Brooklyn had once been romantically linked to Kim, though it's previously been reported that in a now-deleted post, Cruz Beckham claimed the pair "never dated". However, TMZ claimed two months ago that it was "all water under the bridge". The outlet reported that sources said the issue was over Brooklyn and his wife Nicola questioning whether Kim had "the right intentions" for dating Romeo. Amid the drama, Romeo, 22, and Kim, 26, have now decided to separate after a seven-month whirlwind romance, with an insider revealing that the pair "split a few weeks ago and it's all amicable and they are still friends". Many will be hopeful Romeo's new relationship status will see the Beckham boys reunite and Brooklyn patch things up with his family, but they shouldn't hold their breath. It's claimed Kim's involvement in the family drama isn't the reason behind the breakup - and David and Victoria Beckham, 51, want to make that fact clear. Speaking to the Daily Mail, an insider revealed that Posh and Becks "really adored" Kim and believed she made him "happy". The source added that things have "remained friendly" since the split a "couple of weeks ago". They stated: "David and Victoria would hate for the view to be that they split because of Nicola and Brooklyn because that simply isn't the case. The fact is that Kim has got a really busy career as a DJ and Romeo has a busy work life too, there is lots of travelling for both of them at having a relationship at this time isn't all that conducive to their lives." Victoria's approval of Kim is a stark contrast to how the singer-turned-designer reportedly views her eldest son's wife. Brooklyn and billionaire heiress Nicola tied the knot in 2022, and it has since been claimed that Victoria left the bride in tears on her special day, thanks to allegedly hijacking a dance. And if the tension between Victoria and Nicola is true, it's pretty clear who Brooklyn will pick if forced to choose between his spouse and his mother. The former photographer is a self-confessed 'wife guy' and last month admitted Nicola is his one and only priority. In a heartfelt post early on Instagram, Brooklyn uploaded a video featuring him and Nicola cruising on a red motorcycle, with Lana Del Rey's 'National Anthem' providing the soundtrack. He affectionately captioned the clip: "My whole world x I will love you forever x I always choose you baby x you're the most amazing person I know xx me and you forever baby [heart emojis]". Newly single Romeo has also been wearing his heart on his sleeve when it comes to emotional social media posts. Earlier this week, young star shared a heart-rending video from Spanish football coach Luis Enrique, who poignantly recounted the loss of his nine-year-old daughter to cancer. Luis Enrique's daughter Xana tragically died of osteosarcoma in 2019, and his heartfelt coping strategies resonated with Romeo, prompting him to post a moving reflection. Reflecting on life's bigger picture, he mused, "I watch stuff like this and look at myself and think why am I stressing bout something so small in the grand scheme of things," above the clip. He signed off with sage advice, "Love who you love without questions, take care of each other, respect each other and enjoy life," complemented by a simple white heart and a camera emoji." Romeo's post could possibly be a hint he's ready to stop warring with his big brother and focus on the bigger picture, with it claimed the Beckham rift hasn't yet caused lasting damage. "The relationship is definitely not beyond repair," a source told American publication PEOPLE in early May. "They love and are always there for [Brooklyn]. They're just hurt and disappointed that he's now playing no part in family life." But while the Beckham side may seem willing to move forward, Brooklyn's latest interview makes it clear that the hot sauce company owner is laser focused on his marriage. Asked how he protects his relationship in "such a public spotlight", Brooklyn told Glamour Germany: "Ignore the noise. Keep your head down, work hard, be kind. People are always going to talk. What matters is that we're happy together." Nicola added: "It's not always easy. On TikTok there are always random stories popping up about us. When I see fake news, my instinct is to shut it down. But it's not worth it. I just scroll past and move on." The couple's Glamour Germany photoshoot reveals that Brooklyn has given his "mama's boy" tattoo, etched over his heart, a floral makeover, seemingly in tribute to his wife Nicola Peltz's wedding bouquet. The fresh images reveal Brooklyn's new tattoo of flowers covering the "mama's boy" inscription he got back in 2018 as an homage to his mum Victoria. The aspiring chef has around 100 tattoos, with nearly 70 are tributes to Nicola and her family. Brooklyn got his tribute to Posh Spice in 2018 when he labelled himself a mama's boy. But, much to Victoria's disappointment, it looks like Brooklyn is all about being a 'wife guy' instead these days.
