When Loving came along in 2016, Negga was suddenly on red carpets, at the Met Gala and on American magazine covers. She found the promo for it nerve-wracking, but also knew it was worth it. ‘If I don’t do anything else for the rest of my life, I’ve done that film,’ she says proudly. Did she worry about keeping up her career momentum? She grimaces. ‘This sounds terrible: I am ambitious, but I’m not ambitious at the same time. I don’t have any desire to be anything or [play] anybody. Genuinely, I just want to work, but if I feel a role’s for me,’ she narrows her eyes, playfully, ‘it won’t pass me by.’
Producers flocked to Negga after Loving’s success. Some said she could do anything she liked, ‘which was brilliant’, she beams. And not just in acting, either: she’s recently bought the film rights to an Irish book, and is working with other actresses on film scripts they’ve written. ‘It’s all super-exciting,’ she says. ‘Even if these films don’t get made, there will be others – and I know they will come. You can’t hold the tide [of what’s happening with women in the industry] back with a broomstick.’ The industry’s been using the excuse of the dollar with women for years, she continues, ‘but it was never about the dollar. It was about power. That cold, dead hand that wouldn’t let go.’ She smiles broadly. ‘That’s changing now.’
Negga was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, in 1982, the only child of an Irish nurse mother and an Ethiopian doctor father. When she was four, she and her mum returned to Ireland; her dad intended to follow, but got caught in the burgeoning civil war. Then, two years later, he died in a car crash. Negga is unflinching about the effect his death had on her. ‘I’ve always had that thing of thinking, “Do I have real memories of Dad? Or have I just taken a photograph of our time together and transplanted it into my brain?”’
She thinks of him often – whether he would have liked her to act (‘he’d probably have wanted me to be a doctor’) – and Ethiopian history, culture and food remain a big part of her life. ‘One thing I would tell people is that it’s OK to have your grief,’ she says. ‘You can’t do anything about it because it’s intrinsically part of you. And that’s OK.’
Her family were a huge support throughout her childhood, especially her ‘ton of Irish cousins’ – she FaceTimed one of them, Dave Malone, just before we met, and they’re still best friends. They used to rent videos from their local shop as kids and live for the weekend to see them. Two years ago, Malone was her guest at the Golden Globes.
Negga’s early heroes were bold, inventive pop stars. She had a crush on David Bowie in Labyrinth and adored Kate Bush – she spent hours trying to recreate the video for Wuthering Heights, in which Bush does a heavily choreographed, solo dance routine, widening her eyes, and raising her arms. This time around, though, Negga was the choreographer. ‘I remember making my little cousin wear a nightie and dance in my granny’s front room for hours,’ she says. ‘She would say, “Can we please stop?” and I’d say, “No, do it again, we haven’t got it right yet!”’
Negga moved to London with her mum for her teenage years, then returned to Ireland in 1999, to do a drama degree at Trinity College, Dublin. This crucially allowed her to study acting without paying drama-school fees. She’s very proud of Ireland at the moment. The result of the recent abortion referendum had her in tears – when the news broke, she was in New Orleans having just wrapped on Preacher. ‘I’d only had a few hours’ sleep and woke up to it,’ she says. ‘It was very moving and I got really emotional, especially because I couldn’t vote. I was so proud of everybody.’
But she felt a spirit of change in the country as far back as her student days. ‘I remember thinking, “This is a different place, a different country to what I’ve heard it used to be,”’ she explains. ‘And Dublin particularly was a forward-propelling, moving city that I could literally feel wanted to change. You could sense people wanted to leave behind this old, haunted Ireland. And then came the exposing of abuse in the Magdalene Laundries, and then having the referendum on gay marriage, and then, you know, it’s today, and we have a mixed-race, gay Taoiseach!’ She’s practically jumping up and down now. ‘And now this!’
Next year holds even more excitement. She’ll star in Brad Pitt’s new sci-fi film Ad Astra (‘I’m kind of a guide. I’m only in it for half a second, but an essential one’). Then there’s the ongoing success of Preacher. Even though (spoiler alert) Tulip died at the end of Season 2, comic-book rules means she returns – and with a bang. ‘She gets her groove back,’ she says. ‘I had lots of fight scenes too, which are great. There were bruises all over me, but it was worth it.’
Dominic Cooper, of course, plays the titular preacher, hard-drinking and with added superpowers, and the chemistry with his ex-girlfriend is palpable. I’m surprised Negga doesn’t mind talking about him. She’s sheepishly delighted, in fact, to reveal that the press got the date of their break-up a bit wrong. How wrong? ‘We broke up a very long time ago,’ she says. ‘It’s just people knew about it recently. You found out a couple of years too late. Ha!’
Cooper’s her ‘best friend’. Has acting with him (after a six-year relationship) been hard? ‘To be honest, no. I think if you really love someone and care about them, and you’re going to work with them… maybe it doesn’t work for some people, but it just worked for us. We know each other, the way we work, and he’s super-supportive of me.’ She leans forward and smiles. ‘I know this sounds like a ****ing spiel, but it’s not. We’ve literally got each other’s backs.’
They used to live together in London’s Primrose Hill, and Negga still thinks of that area as home. ‘But then I go to Dublin too, and I don’t know where I’ll go next year,’ she says. Not that she looks worried. She still sees a lot of her mum, who’s delighted about her success. ‘But we don’t talk about it, really. She just visits and goes, “Are you eating?” [rolls her eyes] “Yes, Mum.” And then she does my laundry. She irons my socks!’ Negga is grateful to her mum for letting her be who she wanted to be. ‘She never said, “You need to have a fall-back career.” I’m very grateful to all my family, actually, for believing in me.’
Slowly but surely we wrap up, but not before Negga insists on us doing a silly selfie for my young son – another only child, like she was – back at home. Tonight is a precious evening off before she sees what life brings her next. ‘I mean, I can’t complain, can I?’ she says, gesturing at the yacht still in the bright blue sea, dazzling. And the joy in her eyes; her humour and humility, continue to dazzle long after she’s gone.
Marie Claire UK