Kneecap banned by Hungary ahead of planned festival performance
have banned Irish rap group
Kneecap
from entering the country to perform at the Sziget Festival.
They accused the band of using anti-Semitic hate speech and praising the
Hamas militant group
, a government spokesperson said on Thursday.
Belfast-based Kneecap, who regularly display pro-Palestinian messages during their gigs, have caused controversy elsewhere in recent months, including at Britain's Glastonbury Festival, where frontman Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh – known as Mo Chara – accused Israel of committing war crimes.
'Hungary's government has moved to ban Kneecap from entering the country and performing at Sziget ... citing antisemitic hate speech and open praise for Hamas and Hezbollah as justification,' government spokesperson Zoltan Kovacs wrote in a post on X.
READ MORE
Mr Kovacs later posted the official letters from immigration authorities banning the band for three years, claiming that their entry would 'seriously threaten national security'.
In May, Mo Chara was charged with a terrorism offence in Britain for allegedly displaying a flag in support of Iran-backed Hizbullah. He denies the offence.
Last week, UK police said the group would face no further action following their performance at Glastonbury last month.
The trio led Glastonbury crowds in chants of 'f**k
Keir Starmer
', in reference to the British prime minister, during their set at the festival.
Representatives of Kneecap did not immediately reply to requests for comment. The band has said previously that its members do not support Hamas or Hizbullah, and that it condemns 'all attacks on civilians, always'.
Hungary's government had already asked festival organisers to drop Kneecap from the line-up at the week-long event, which draws several hundred thousand music lovers to an island in the River Danube each year.
More than 150 artists and cultural figures, including Academy Award-winning director Laszlo Nemes Jeles, have also signed a petition protesting against Kneecap's participation.
Sziget organisers, who said they had not been notified of the government's decision, have resisted the calls to scrap Kneecap's planned performance on August 11th.
'Our festival remains true to what we have consistently achieved over the past 30 years: there is no place for hatred, incitement, prejudice, or any form of racism or anti-Semitism,' they said in a statement last week.
Sziget's other performers this year include Post Malone, Shawn Mendes and Charli XCX. – Reuters
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Irish Times
28 minutes ago
- Irish Times
Brendan Gleeson: ‘I can't go into a pub any more. I really miss it'
'It was an odd experience,' Brendan Gleeson says with a smile. Seated in a rehearsal space in a leafy part of Dublin, the Irish actor is reflecting on the episode he hosted in 2022 of Saturday Night Live, the US television sketch show that likes to have stars deliver questionable comedy skits to a studio audience. 'I didn't have experience of it, and I first said, 'No, absolutely not.' Then Colin Farrell said, 'You should do it,' and I know him well enough to trust him – that he's not a surfacy person, that there was something that was worth doing,' Gleeson says. 'The whole process was fascinating. They don't really want an act, and yet you're not yourself. They only make up jokes that week. You get things that half-work. It's very gruelling. And you don't know who the audience are. I didn't really want to watch it back.' It's a measure of Gleeson's popularity that, although his hosting of the show with Farrell attracted a few nitpicky reviews, for many it felt akin to watching a beloved groom give a wedding speech after a long engagement. We were on his side, willing to live through the cringy bits in the service of seeing the show acknowledge a simple truth: Gleeson is a star. READ MORE With roles in The Guard, Paddington 2, The Tragedy of Macbeth, In Bruges, Joker: Folie à Deux, Calvary and The Banshees of Inisherin , Gleeson is one of Ireland's most prominent and charismatic actors. At 70, the Malahide resident – father of his fellow performers Domhnall and Brian Gleeson – is in the remarkable position of being busier than ever. Or, as he puts it, 'I haven't time to wash my face.' We're meeting today because Gleeson is returning to the stage after a decade's absence, specifically to the 3Olympia Theatre in Dublin, followed by the Harold Pinter Theatre in London, where he will make his West End debut as Jack in The Weir, which is being directed by its writer, Conor McPherson . A tale of friends meeting for a drink in Co Leitrim when a stranger among them reveals an emotionally engulfing personal story, the play features little surface action yet delivers a remarkable punch. The Weir: Brendan Gleeson with fellow cast members Seán McGinley, Owen McDonnell, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor and Kate Phillips. Photograph: Rich Gilligan As I slip into the rehearsal space at Wesley House in Ranelagh, Gleeson and the rest of the cast are into their second week of line reads and stage preparations. They're not sweating it yet. Or not quite yet. Playing the part of the oleaginous estate agent Finbar, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor has thrown away his playbook to summon up the words from memory. So has Seán McGinley , in the role of bachelor Jim. Both have monologues to give. There are rueful chuckles as occasionally a prompt is needed or a line flubbed. Gleeson is sitting between them, on a bar stool, his white shirt and suit jacket on, hair slicked back, a spider web of lines tracing his forehead, inhabiting his role with earthy precision. Across the room, McPherson, inscrutable in a cap and glasses, is a quiet, watchful presence for all the actors, who also include Kate Phillips and Owen McDonnell. 'I'm trying to allow them to be as close to themselves as they can be,' McPherson says later. 'Brendan has a huge presence. He's very powerful, very funny, but he can give you lots of depth. It's a pleasure. It's like if you get into a very expensive car: you don't have to do very much; it's just, 'We're going.'' 'I'm bad for the planet?' the actor huffs amicably when I quote the expensive-car line back to him. But he's smiling. 'Ah, that's nice.' He enjoys collaborating with directors and has a healthy respect in particular for the Irish theatre-makers he has worked with over the years. 'In America, in a lot of TV, tailoring the dialogue is almost taken for granted. A lot of actors would take control of what they're doing themselves. But with somebody like Conor McPherson or Martin McDonagh , the rhythm of the language is so important; everything is so precise. You'd be an idiot to try and mess with it.' Gleeson loves The Weir, which was written nearly three decades ago, and is set entirely in the bar where the group meet, for how it portrays us as Irish people. The stories that are told are pithy and revealing, a simulacrum of life in Ireland in the 1990s. 'Lads would come down to the pub, and the level of conversation that used to go on in those places: underestimate these people at your peril,' Gleeson says. 'There was an incredible beauty in the way people informed themselves. In England you'd go into a pub and you didn't strike up a conversation the way you would over there. In Ireland there was too much drinking; it was no harm for that to shift. But the pub was a centre whereby people touched base. It was like the postman coming, the small community, the ties that bind.' There may be a certain irony for Gleeson in that the play is all about the quiet pint, something the actor no longer feels able to enjoy. He sighs when the subject comes up. 'I can't go into a place any more in terms of pubs, because it turns into selfie country. I really miss [it], particularly going into music sessions. You mightn't believe me, but people will do amazingly dumb things about interrupting you. I draw the line at funerals.' I wonder if it's his roles in global film franchises – in the Harry Potter series he plays Mad-Eye Moody; in the world of Paddington he appears as the winningly abrasive chef Knuckles McGinty – that have made the difference in the past decade. Not so, Gleeson says. It's the mobile phones and the likelihood of people texting their friends to let them know if Gleeson might be sitting in on a session. 'The mobile phones mean you can do nothing. I'm not an elite musician. I was always running after the bus that way. But before you'd hear of a few quiet tunes somewhere, and you could go and you'd get a couple of hours spare [playing]. Now somebody has texted, and it's rammed within half an hour.' Does he feel isolated? 'I would, certainly. It does make the world smaller. Being able to drop into a place and just do the crossword and talk to somebody, you can't do it any more.' A memory surfaces: the opening night of Enda Walsh 's Ballyturk at Galway International Arts Festival in 2015. Following the play, which starred Cillian Murphy, the Gleeson family went with other theatregoers to an after-show gathering at a nearby hotel, where they clustered fireside in the lobby. You could feel the implicit plea from them in the ether: to be allowed to enjoy a night out without being bothered. I did leave them alone, but I will admit it was hard work pretending to ignore them. Gleeson nods when I mention seeing them. 'It's only the last couple of years I've realised it's uncomfortable for everyone. It alters the equilibrium. So you just say, 'Okay, I've got this far. I'm 70 now, so I should really not be going into those places anyway.'' Gleeson has the complicating virtue of having come to acting relatively late. Formerly a teacher at Belcamp College in Balgriffin, in north Dublin, Gleeson was 34 when he was cast as Michael Collins in the RTÉ drama The Civil War. His ascent was far from assured in the early days: casting agents wanted him for character roles, but whether playing the Dublin criminal Martin Cahill in John Boorman's The General, Mel Gibson's sidekick in Braveheart or the lead in McDonagh's Oscar-winning Six Shooter, Gleeson had an ease in front of the camera that meant directors wanted to work with him. Ask the average Irish person about a Gleeson film and they might mention Hollywood big-budget affairs such as Joker: Folie à Deux or the Sundance TV series State of the Union , for which Gleeson received an Emmy nomination. But they're just as likely to wax lyrical about home-grown films such as The Guard, directed by John Michael McDonagh, or The Banshees of Inisherin, directed by Martin McDonagh, in which Gleeson riffed beautifully off Farrell as his forlorn former friend. The Banshees of Inisherin: Brendan Gleeson with Colin Farrell in Martin McDonagh's film. Photograph: Jonathan Hession/Searchlight Then there are the children's films, such as the glorious Paddington 2 , that Gleeson cherishes making. 'I grew to like movies as against films,' Gleeson says. 'Especially kids' films. Why would you underestimate children? Their little worlds, their beliefs, when you see kids watching something, their big eyes out on saucers, they're living this. It's important, so you do it properly if you can.' [ Brendan Gleeson the American is not nearly as agreeable Brendan Gleeson the Irishman Opens in new window ] When The Weir transfers to London, Gleeson will spend time with the junior members of the Gleeson tribe. 'It'll be exciting in terms of the lads are over there,' he says. 'I'll get to see my grandkids.' He doesn't talk much about his wife or four children, but it's obvious they're a tight-knit crew. That last stage performance 10 years ago was with his sons Brian and Domhnall in The Walworth Farce , another of Enda Walsh's plays. 'I find myself asking more and more questions of them and to give me an insight into things I'm blind to or things I don't quite understand,' he says about their acting skills. He sounds proud of them. 'I am.' The Walworth Farce: Brendan Gleeson with his sons Domhnall and Brian in Enda Walsh's play. Photograph: Photograph: Patrick Redmond Gleeson could big up his sons or name-drop all day if he wanted, but it's obvious he chooses his words in interviews with care. 'I'm moaning a lot,' he says at one stage before course-correcting. It makes it all the more endearing to hear the warm delight in his voice when he occasionally allows in some discussion of his career high points, such as his Academy Award nomination, for best supporting actor, for The Banshees of Inisherin in 2023. 'I was thrilled to get an Oscar nomination,' he says. 'When I walked in and saw the people that were there in one room. I mean, you've Spielberg over there, all these film-makers.' Gleeson worked with Steven Spielberg on the 2001 film AI Artificial Intelligence , a dystopian tale of robotic intelligence that has more resonance in today's bot-driven world than ever. The actor has recently been dealing with a deepfake version of himself that has been circulating on the internet, touting a cream that 'totally eliminates pain'. 'Two people sent it to me. I'm not on any of that stuff,' he says about social media. 'So I was blissfully unaware, and thought it was a joke. But then I realised, 'Jesus, are they asking people to actually press a link?' So I just wanted to say that I don't endorse anything other than support for the hospice.' [ Despair among young people 'really, really scary', Brendan Gleeson says at hospice fundraiser Opens in new window ] Gleeson is a long-time campaigner for improved resources at St Francis Hospice in Raheny, in north Dublin, where both his parents spent their final stages of life; his galvanising social conscience is an important part of his character. It has caused more than one person to question if there's a role for him in politics. Or, say, in the Áras when the presidential role comes free? [ 'I would be dead now if it hadn't been for the hospice' Opens in new window ] 'I'm quite opinionated,' Gleeson counters. 'I just think I'm not a good politician. I can't get to the place. I love Michael D Higgins for what he's done, what he's doing, his reckless energy and his positivity. Everything about what he does fills me with inspiration. I'm not good at that. I do get upset about things that are patently wrong, but I'm not the fixer of those issues. I just hope we can allow people to have a place to live. I think profit-making on homes is immoral.' If politics is partly about the exchange of ideas, art can spark similarly big conversations. The Weir comes to Dublin at the same time that The Pillowman , by his friend and collaborator McDonagh, runs across town at the Gate Theatre. It's a controversial play that tackles themes of violence against children. When I tell Gleeson that I found McDonagh's play tough to watch, his gaze sharpens. [ The Pillowman review: Anthracite-black comedy. The most appalling crimes Opens in new window ] 'I heard there were people getting upset in the audience,' Gleeson says. 'Some people in particular places in their lives may not be able to handle it. Part of art is to face the brutality of the truth. That's why we keep Auschwitz. The idea of sheltering everybody from horrible consequences, it's like, if you've never been to an abattoir, that's where you go. 'Early on with Martin, I challenged him on something. I said, 'Are you just pushing the envelope for its own sake?' I said you've got to really know what you're doing. And he said, 'Everything I write is about love.' I realised with his work you don't hate anyone; you find the humanity. 'I did the same with John Boorman with The General. You go into a place where you're saying, 'This is inhuman.' No, this is human. This is humanity, I'm afraid.' Gleeson puts himself through the wringer as an actor. In addition to his work on the forthcoming film adaptation by Emma Donoghue of H Is for Hawk and the TV series Spider-Noir, Gleeson has recently returned from Atlanta, where he was filming The Good Daughter, by the crime author Karin Slaughter. 'It was emotionally demanding and traumatising,' he says. 'I was wasted when I got back, in a head-space sense.' The Weir will represent a palate-cleanser. It's a play that contains quiet truths; that suggests more than it shows. 'At the time of life I'm at, and in the zeitgeist where there's so much apocalyptic desperation, this is a beautiful piece of work,' Gleeson says. 'It's very profound.' The play is likely to be the hottest ticket in town. Anne Clarke of Landmark Productions , its coproducer, is worried about one thing only: how to distribute the guest-list tickets on opening night. 'It's like Irish theatre royalty,' she says, laughing. 'Everybody wants to come. We're having these big meetings about how we can manage it.' [ Landmark's Anne Clarke: 'Every producer, if they're honest, is a control freak' Opens in new window ] As for Gleeson, he's fretting about his lines. Well, that and the prospect of getting a break at some point. He smiles when he hears a Leonard Cohen lyric: 'I ache in the places where I used to play.' Seventy is treating him reasonably well, he says. But the body is creaky sometimes. 'I'm wiping the slate clean. I have to take a break. This year and last year was too much. I'll take time to smell the coffee, because you can run around and not see what you're looking at.' Gleeson knows he's in the right place spiritually, in part because of the distance he has travelled in his life. 'I think I was okay as a teacher,' he says. 'When I found acting, I just knew. When I was writing down in my passport under occupation, and I wrote down 'actor', I felt: I'm home.' The Weir opens at 3Olympia Theatre, Dublin, on Wednesday, August 13th, with previews from Friday, August 8th. It runs until September 6th, then transfers to the Harold Pinter Theatre, in London, where it runs from September 12th until December 6th
Irish Times
2 hours ago
- Irish Times
Author Joseph Birchall: ‘Crime fiction can bring us something we don't often see in reality - justice'
Tell me about your debut novel In Plain Sight . It's a crime thriller based in Dublin with a couple of twists along the way. Darcy Doyle is a rookie in the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, and she's paired up with the once brilliant and now weather-beaten Mick Kelly. There's a serial killer on the Dublin streets, but meanwhile, as they try to catch the killer, Darcy's own secretive past is catching up with her. At the book's core are two very different characters - the keen but green Darcy Doyle and the somewhat jaded and cynical Mick Kelly. Why do you think they work as a duo? They don't realise it at first, but they both need each other. Darcy has experienced childhood trauma, but she can't show any vulnerability in her work as a detective. This is detrimental to her personal relationships. Her job is her prop. Mick's crutch is the drink. In the 1990s you came close to having a feature film made with David Anspaugh, who directed Gene Hackman in Hoosiers. Tell us a little about the story and how the experience ultimately stalled your writing? My wife found my 20-year-old screenplay in a box in the attic (I know that sounds made up!). It was a coming-of-age film called Stuck on Orange about four lads in Dublin who risk everything to improve their lives. I suppose, looking back, being so close to such big success when I lived in California, which ultimately got shelved, turned me away from writing for quite some time. Thankfully, after finding the script, my wife encouraged me back to putting pen to paper once again. To fail, fail again and fail better. If your book were to be adapted for film, who would play Darcy and Mick? Dream casting would be Saoirse Ronan and Colin Farrell - minus the penguin suit. READ MORE You spent years working on a kibbutz. Have you considered writing about that experience? What do you make of Israel/Palestine today? My heart is broken for the people of the region, particularly the children of Gaza who are experiencing generational trauma. An Israeli friend's brother is still being held hostage today. It makes me realise how lucky we are to have had peace on our island for the last three decades. If anything, that still gives me hope. Your family has been living in Tallaght in Dublin for more than 100 years, and the city and its more marginalised are central to the novel. Did you draw on your own experience in writing the book? I had a very fortunate upbringing in Tallaght with two hardworking parents and a loving and supportive family and community, so fortunately, I haven't had any of the kinds of experiences that befalls Darcy. Reading books by investigative journalists such as Paul Williams, Nicola Tallant, Paul Reynolds and Pat Marry helped me gain vital procedural knowledge of the crime world. Irish crime titles seem to be enjoying phenomenal popularity. Why do you think that is? What drew you to the genre? We see so much inequality and transgression in everyday life that crime fiction, and indeed other genres, can bring us something we don't often see in reality - justice. The crime is solved, redemption is meted out and the killer is rightly punished. You left Ireland in the 1990s and lived in France, Israel and California before returning home. How has Ireland changed? We're a more confident people than we once were, more self-aware, and we take pride in who we are, but I think we've managed to retain our unique blend of social righteousness and having the craic. You are the co-founder and director of . Is there a link between entrepreneurship and creativity? You most definitely need to be creative when building a business and not be averse to taking risks. There's more cognitive liberty when writing, though, but the financial rewards are not as good! Well, not yet - maybe if the movie comes off! Which projects are you working on? Reported Missing, book two of the Darcy Doyle series is with the editor and is due to appear in 2026, and book three is about to go off to Poolbeg Press for their initial… let's call it 'appraisal'. Have you ever made a literary pilgrimage? I once went to London in my early 20s to visit 221b Baker Street, fictional home of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. I still have the photo! What is the best writing advice you have heard? Read Stephen King 's book – On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft . Who do you admire the most? My wife. (I know, I know!) You are supreme ruler for a day. Which law do you pass or abolish? That all children become the number one priority for every government – their education and their wellbeing. Which current book, film and podcast would you recommend? Colm Tóibín – Long Island (if you've already read Brooklyn ) Mission Impossible – The Final Reckoning The Rich Roll Podcast The most remarkable place you have visited? Jerusalem. Your most treasured possession? My Dad's radio. What is the most beautiful book that you own? A first edition of The Borstal Boy. The best and worst things about where you live? The best things are the location, the community, nearby family, and the view of the Dublin Mountains. The worst is like everywhere in Dublin: traffic. What is your favourite quotation? Motivation follows action. Always. Who is your favourite fictional character? Too many, but Lisbeth Salander popped into my head first. A book to make me laugh? Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. A book that might move me to tears? The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.
Irish Times
2 hours ago
- Irish Times
Busy and Wrecked: an affirming self-help read from Dermot Whelan
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