It's unusual to hear an actor talk about politics. But then Donal O'Kelly is no ordinary actor - even if his campaigning tag does turn off 90 per cent of his potential audience, he tells Joe Humphreys
Donal O'Kelly is animated at the best of times. This is a man who has played up to 30 characters in a single play, a man whose chief asset, in the words of one reviewer, is being a mad bastard. Right now, though, O'Kelly is speaking about the Minister for Justice, Michael McDowell - and taking animation to a new level.
"I find him an incredibly scary influence in Irish politics. He's like Godzilla, thumping around, swinging a fecking ball and chain, and the rest of the Cabinet are like dwarfs applauding."
It is strange to hear an actor talk about politics. But then the 46-year-old isn't a typical actor, and anyone who has seen him on stage in recent years will be unsurprised by his views. Reared "on the cusp of Glasnevin and Drumcondra", from proud working-class roots, he is sometimes mistaken on radio for Tony Gregory. It's not just the accent they have in common. A member of the artists' group leading the charge in the 1980s for the release of the Birmingham Six, O'Kelly is a past advocate of dialogue in troubled times in Northern Ireland. Among the actor's campaigning ventures was the temporary erection, in 1996, of the Big Table, a 20-foot desk on O'Connell Bridge to which all and sundry were invited for talks following the collapse of the first IRA ceasefire. McDowell seems "hell-bent on making firewood out of any table that might be set up for dialogue", he says.
O'Kelly and the Minister clash on more than Northern Ireland. The actor's current project, The Cambria, addresses another issue in McDowell's dominion: immigration. The play, which started out as a reading for an Afri conference in 2002, tells the true story of Frederick Douglass, a runaway American slave who sought asylum in Ireland in 1845. Welcomed by Daniel O'Connell, "he ended up getting a civic reception in the Mansion House in Dublin, which is a historical point I would like to see Mr McDowell take on board. Instead, he seems to be concentrating on chartering flights to Lagos to solve what we call an immigration problem."
Politics has always been part of O'Kelly's make-up as an actor, performer and playwright. His breakthrough play, Bat the Father Rabbit the Son, from 1988, highlighted the materialism already taking hold in the Republic. In the early 1990s he helped set up Calypso theatre company. Its first productions, which he wrote, addressed themes from media manipulation of news events in Latin America to the international arms trade and Third World debt. There is plenty of less political work in his CV, most recently Jimmy Joyced, which earned him a nomination in last month's Irish Times ESB Irish Theatre Awards, and his acclaimed performance as Sean O'Casey in Colm Tóibín's Beauty in a Broken Place, at the Peacock last year. But it is the campaigning-actor-and-playwright tag that sticks best. "It turns off 90 per cent of your potential audience," he says, chortling. "But I am who I am. Entertainment is my number-one goal, because people are buying a ticket for entertainment. But my part of the contract is to deliver my opinions - in as crafted a way as possible, of course."
The Cambria is already lined up for 15 venues between St Patrick's Day and early May. He is starring with Sorcha Fox, with whom he collaborated on The Hand, in 2002. Fox, who shares his "vision about what works best in theatre", is also his partner offstage.
A former civil servant, who left the Revenue Commissioners at 21 to join Deirdre O'Connell's Stanislavsky Studio, O'Kelly admits his form of employment is not the most secure in the world. "It can have its moments of dramatic tension. Hitchcock-like dramatic tension." For The Cambria he has borrowed money against expected returns. It is a risky strategy, but O'Kelly says he finds the normal funding process long-winded. "You have to plan so far in advance that, for me, the creative spontaneity has gone out of the work by the time you get to do it."
The actor's screen credits include I Went Down and Spin the Bottle. But none has brought him more fame than The Van, from 1996, in which he starred alongside Colm Meaney. "Maybe I would like to do more film," he says. "I've half-driven myself this way in the last few years. But I've drifted this way as well. I joke about it. I mean, The Van. What happened after The Van?" So if Hollywood rings? "I'm ready," he shoots back. And scrap his integrity? He pauses, then replies, deadpan: "Temporarily."
The Cambria is at Liberty Hall, Dublin, from March 17th to April 2nd, then moves to Galway as part of a month-long tour
OTHER THINGS TO DO IN DUBLIN FOR ST PATRICK'S DAY
St Patrick's Festival, which is celebrating its 10th birthday, begins on Wednesday at 10am, when the (€6.50), the giant inflatable maze that was a hit of last year's celebrations, opens for the first of five days at Georges Dock, at the IFSC. The parade is the highlight of St Patrick's Day; it leaves Parnell Square at noon, then winds its way to Christ Church. Noon is also the start of a four-day on Merrion Square West, open until 11pm each day. On Friday evening Barry Murphy hosts the Comedy Circus (€25) at Liberty Hall. Saturday starts with the Denny Treasure Hunt (City Hall, 10am-5pm, free), letting young teams discover Dublin. At 8pm the Skyfest fireworks begin (quays, free). On Sunday Merrion Square hosts the Denny Big Day Out (from noon), mainly-free family entertainment. See www.stpatricksfestival.ie.