An exhibitionist, melodramatic and gregarious – her words – she would dance around her grandmother’s living-room and make everyone join in. She hated the endless, predictable grind of school, and spent most of her time plucking up the courage to resign from her altar girl duties. She lost herself in the fairytales of Hans Christian Andersen, in particular
The Snow Queen – “I love the bit when the shard of glass goes in Kai’s eye!” – and
The Little Mermaid, “which is not like the Disney version at all, it ends terribly!”
She remembers finding dead birds and holding mass for them, but doesn’t think she was a particularly macabre child, just Catholic. Later, when asked if she’d describe herself as romantic, she reveals another dark-tinged seam: “Does romantic mean
When Harry Met Sally? Or does it mean
Betty Blue? The fact that he kills her in the end of
Betty Blue is romantic to me. It’s a different kind of romance to
Sleepless In Seattle, but with the same intentions.”
As a teenager, her bedroom walls were covered in pictures of Jason Priestley from
Beverly Hills, 90210, Nirvana, Hendrix, U2’s Boy, Prince and “a big poster from the Ethiopian tourist board which said, ‘13 months of sunshine!’ – because in Ethiopia we have a different calendar so there are actually 13 months.” Her first crush was David Bowie in
Labyrinth, she sighs.
It was the transcendent performances of Bowie and, later, Kate Bush that inspired Negga to pursue acting. “There is something about their unashamed communing with something,” she begins, sputtering like a fangirl. “They’re not too cool for school – I mean, they are too cool for school – but they’re plugging into something. It’s not that sort of punk, decimating of things, it’s creating something, it’s very spiritual, and that was always attractive to me.”
Aged 18, with her career advice results suggesting a future as an antique dealer or a bowling alley attendant, she enrolled on the BA drama course at the Trinity College Dublin Samuel Beckett Theatre. There was never a plan B, she says. Just two years after graduating, her part in
Duck at the Royal Court earned her a nomination for Most Promising Newcomer at the 2004 Olivier Awards, and the attention of BBC casting agents. Steady work on TV dramas was quick to follow.
“I’ve never had to do a job other than acting. Maybe if I’d had a back-up plan it wouldn’t have worked out...” She pauses, as if giving the idea some thought. “The thing is the plan is to work, right? My only plan has been to work with people who are kind, that’s very important to me, and never to work with *******s, people who make life more difficult than it needs to be.” For the past seven years, it appears her plan also includes working with her boyfriend as often as possible.
“To be honest, I don’t know how it’s happened,” she says. “It sounds very premeditated but it’s absolutely not.” They were both in Neil Jordan’s 2005 glamrock odyssey
Breakfast on Pluto, also Negga’s first film, “but we weren’t in the same scenes, Dom was a soldier in Northern Ireland who dances with Cillian Murphy.” Their first double-act came in 2009 playing lovers at the National Theatre in
Phèdre, starring Helen Mirren; their offstage romance started during the production. Last year, they came together again to fight off an army of thorny orcs in the computer-game-turned-blockbuster
Warcraft, and then
Preacher happened.
For the record, Negga read for
Preacher first. She had been nervous in her audition for the part of wild woman Tulip, so asked Cooper to put her on tape because, she explains, she’s often better on tape. “In the middle of reading the kids’ parts, he suddenly said, ‘This is ****ing amazing!’ I showed him the cover of one of the comics and was like, ‘Yes, and you look exactly like him!’ He made a few calls...”
An over-the-top, explosive character like Tulip must be a release after the intense stillness of Mildred. “Actually, I think I’m always quite a ham in acting,” she says. This from a woman being heralded for one of the most nuanced performances of recent times. “Yes, ham; by which I mean using your full physicality. If you do anything with commitment and integrity it’ll resonate with people, they recognise that whether it’s a super quiet or loud performance.”
Negga and Cooper are about to return to Albuquerque, New Mexico to film the second season of
Preacher but, before they do, she confesses that she needs to finish watching the first season. “I know,” she pleads, “but because of
Loving I haven’t had the time.” She describes the set as a “no-*******s-need-apply territory” and “a lot of fun”, and talks about the hugeness of the New Mexican landscape, how it’s like a Georgia O’Keeffe painting, a magical place with a lot of ley lines, apparently.
“I feel very lucky to be doing what I’m doing,” she says, finishing her glass of wine. “Like all art, there’s an unquantifiable aspect to this job, and there is a huge amount of luck involved. But luck is a funny thing; good or bad, it plays an important part in everything.” She brings up the small matter of ending up on the cutting- room floor of the triple-Oscar-winning drama
12 Years a Slave: Negga played a runaway slave called Celeste and shot for three days in a crocodile-infested swamp, but the scene didn’t make the final cut. She vividly remembers the moment Steve McQueen, the director, called to let her down gently and she just knew before he had said anything. “It was very unlucky but the luck involved in that was that it was the same casting director who later cast me in
Loving. So you can look at things in many different ways... Do you mind if we go outside so I can smoke?”
We sit at a table on the pavement under heaters and watch a wild-eyed Husky bolt out of Primrose Hill Pets and bark at an unassuming Pomeranian, their owners eye each other suspiciously. Negga is more a cat person, she says, lighting a cigarette, but she travels too much to have one. Just the day before, the Daily Mail website photographed her and Cooper walking down this very stretch of road in matching puffer jackets. Does that level of inane intrusion bother her?
“Well, I do live in Primrose Hill which is probably not the best place,” she admits. “What can you do? It’s not part of the job and anyone who tells you that’s what you signed up for can **** off. But also you’ve got to get over yourself about it. The worst thing you can do is look, just ask other people to let you know on a scale of ten how bad it is.” She admits there is a peacock element to being an actor but “I don’t think I’m terribly vain, in that it’s not very linked to my confidence. It’s not as important to me as it probably should be. I mean, I came today without my eyebrows being threaded and just look at these fingernails!” She holds out her hand to reveal chipped cherry varnish. Her healthy disregard for image will be put to the test in the run up to the Oscars; maybe, she says, but she doesn’t think it’ll change her.
Negga is equally uninterested in social media and proudly claims never to have been on Facebook. “I barely have a phone! It broke a few weeks ago and it was such a relief. I delayed taking it into a shop. I love being not contactable.” So, when everyone else is posting selfies on Instagram in between takes on
Preacher, what is she doing? “I play pranks,” she says. “My best prank – I’ve done it a lot of times – is putting cling film over the toilet seat!” My expression obviously gives something away. “What? Is that awful? I thought it was quite funny... Look, it’s never going to be a number two situation because you’re going to feel it on your arse! So, people are safe... unless it’s a serious emergency... Oh no.”
Her downtime at home is more about feeding her brain. She’s just binged on
Stranger Things and is three seasons into
The Good Wife. She recommends
Fleabag, her friend Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s BBC3 comedy series, and
The 13th on Netflix, which “is all about how the American prison system is the mirror of slavery”. She’s also a bookworm: “I’ve just finished
Swing Time, Zadie Smith’s new novel. Brilliant. And then, oddly enough, I read a memoir about surfing called
Barbarian Days.”
Our lunch has now overrun into a two-and-a-half-hour encounter, and Negga has to dash. Before she leaves, I wonder if there’s a piece of writing that she’s returned to over the years, mantra-like.
“Yes, Maya Angelou’s poem
And Still I Rise,” she says, stubbing out her cigarette. “It’s one of those things I try to remember whenever things are looking difficult or insurmountable. Maya Angelou is a hero of mine because she acknowledged everything about herself, good and bad, and it was all OK. And I think we have a tendency now to latch on to only the good aspects of ourselves and that does not the whole person make. That’s denying a part of yourself and it’s dangerous, it’s not healthy. It’s so important to own everything about yourself.”
Source