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Saoirse Ronan is having a moment. Which is not necessarily a new experience, given she has four Oscar nominations to her credit. Now 30, the Irish-born actress first made the Academy cut at 14 for her supporting role in Atonement, which she followed with leading roles in Brooklyn, Ladybird and Little Women. But this year, playing a single mother in Steve McQueen’s London wartime drama Blitz, and a woman fighting her demons in Nora Fingscheidt’s addiction story The Outrun — Ronan’s first project as a producer — the goalposts for what she can achieve have been widened.
At this stage of your career, when you’re thinking about what you want to do next, do you choose in terms of personal challenge or people you want to work with?
I would say it’s both of those things. It’s become more about the type of filmmakers I want to work with, the older I get, because I think the richer your personal life becomes, the more it takes for you to be convinced to leave it. So, you really want it to be with people who are not crazy, are nice to be around, do great work, and do the kind of work that you align yourself with. I think that’s become more important, the older that I’ve gotten. But always, the heart of any decision I make to do something, is personal growth as an actor, trying something that I, hopefully, haven’t done before that will just stretch me out a little bit more as a performer.
What was it about Blitz that drew you to it?
I’ve never played a mother before, and the relationship between mother and child is one that’s incredibly precious to me and has been very formative in my life. Being able to explore that, and embody it on screen, especially with a filmmaker who is so about achieving truth and realism — to know that that wasn’t going to be skimmed over, and it was going to be given the time that it deserves — really intrigued me.
You came out of a self-imposed break to work with Steve McQueen? What is attractive about his filmmaking?
I love his taste. I think he’s a very smart filmmaker. I think that he manages to create work that isn’t didactic, but it always gives you a sense of reflection while being entertained. I think that he is one of the few directors who’s managed to come from the visual art world and is just as much about performance and the actors having their time, as he is about making the frame look beautiful. You don’t often get both. When it comes to the respect that he gives to the actors, it’s a nice energy to be around. It’s supportive, and it makes you feel like nothing’s really off the table.
You’ve seen his work onscreen. What is his process like to achieve that?
He will never overdo something. Because Steve did a lot of still frames in his artwork, it feels like once he’s able to capture truth in the simplest of ways — and that’s not demoting it at all — he’s more than happy to move on. In general, a scene on any movie will have, at least, four setups, if not six, if not 10. It depends on the scale of the production. And this was of massive scale, and we had all the money in the world, but more often than not, he would feel that when he had achieved everything he needed to, and he was able to tell the story in an effective way — he would never tax his artists, as he says — we’d just move on. The power of the image is something that still he believes in completely, and once he feels that he’s captured that truth, he doesn’t push you further than you need to be pushed — which is amazing, because so often, you hear about directors that make actors do, like, 85 takes. For what, I don’t know. I don’t think it really achieves anything at all. So, to be working with a director who would never milk it, is lovely. You really feel valued as a performer.
What was the challenge of portraying a mother, and how did that character evolve through conversations with Steve?
I’m not a mother. So, the biggest challenge is trying to embody a role that is important to all of us without having experienced it firsthand myself. I could only go off secondhand experience and information, and the relationship with my own mother, and how open she’s always been with me about her experience as a mother. I learned a lot from those dynamics. I think I am quite maternal. That’s a state that I feel quite comfortable to be in. I think what evolved over time was the companionship that you see between myself and Elliott [Heffernan], onscreen. That was really built off our relationship off-set. We became very close. Really, I just wanted him to feel that we could be pals without anything ever feeling contrived. I think that the relationship that you see onscreen was really born out of that and the acknowledgement that Rita is still a young woman. She’s absolutely lived a life. She’s gone through a lot of loss and tragedy, and she’s had a huge amount of responsibility put on her shoulders. But she is still young, and I wanted to incorporate that into how she is as a mother.
Would you have believed that this was Elliott Heffernan’s first acting gig? As your son George?
No. I really wouldn’t have. He was so professional, so diligent and studious, but also very confident and relaxed on set. He was just really in his element. I remember the first time I met him, he would barely look at me, and I just kept ripping the piss out of him until he was like, “Oh, you’re just like a big child.” But he found his place on set very quickly and loved it. You could tell he was empowered by it all. He took direction beautifully and he’s great at improv, which is quite unusual for anyone, but, especially for such a young person. There were so many scenes that, in terms of the dialogue and the interactions between characters, weren’t scripted. We would just try out different things, and I would take the lead, and move the scene in one direction or another after having a conversation with Steve. And Elliott was so open and confident in what he was doing. He was very malleable, but also was able to take the lead as well.
Were there any unexpected challenges in doing Blitz?
You know, what was hard was not being in all the time. I had just done The Outrun, where I was in every frame of it, so I thought, “Oh, great. I’ll just shoot for a couple of days, and then we can go away for a bit, or I can go up to Scotland, or I can go home to Ireland — how nice!” which was lovely, but when you aren’t in every single scene, or you’re not in every single day, you don’t get the chance to build up that stamina, which you have to then rebuild from the bottom up every single time. That was actually quite difficult, from an energy perspective, to have to rev yourself up every single week, when you’re only in for a couple of scenes at a time.
You also came from having control of The Outrun as producer to solely acting again. Was it hard to revert back to that?
Actually, weirdly, it was a relief, because I have this new insight into all of the drama that goes on behind the scenes that’s kept from the actors. Having been through all of that, and really having to have very grownup conversations about budget, and whether the movie’s going to go ahead or not, or whether we can get this actor, or can scheduling work out with this person, or, “Oh, shit. We’ve just lost that location, which is for a really pivotal scene.” All those things I really enjoyed, but to then go onto Blitz where I could just see the producers in the corner scratching their heads, trying to figure something out, I was relieved to have a little respite from that. But I will say, in general, when it comes to the development of a project now, I think I would find it very difficult not to be as involved as I had been on The Outrun, because I feel like the older you get, and the more experience you gain, the more you want to be in the driver’s seat.
Why was Rona, in The Outrun, the role you needed to play?
As an actor, Rona gave me access to a performance that I don’t think I would have gotten anywhere else. I was able to, in one person, play someone who had the capability, as every human does, to be ugly, beautiful, tragic, chaotic, at peace, poetic, just everything. And my performance could really reflect all the ebbs and flows of that. So, from a performance perspective, it just widened the goalposts. Nothing was really off the table in terms of the type of performance that I could give, and what I could do, what emotions that I could access, everything.
From a personal perspective, having loved ones who have struggled with alcoholism, some of whom have made it out the other side, some who haven’t, some who maybe never will, the pain that that makes you feel stays with you forever. The confusion and the frustration that you experience, as a loved one watching a family member or a friend go through something like that can be quite stifling, and I really needed to work through that. I needed to get to a point where I wasn’t just angry at the thing anymore. I’d spent my whole life just being angry at the thing, because that’s the easiest emotion to feel. I needed to get to some semblance of understanding, or empathy, which will always be difficult. But The Outrun has, certainly, given me the gift of empathy and understanding in a way that I wasn’t willing to experience before.
Were you emotionally in a place where you felt stable enough to go to those places, or maybe, professionally, more able to separate character from person?
I think it was absolutely essential that I didn’t separate it too much. The reason I signed up to this is because it was a personal feat that I had to overcome. And I think if Jack [Lowden, Ronan’s husband and producing partner] had read the book maybe two, three years prior, and suggested we do it, I, personally, wouldn’t have been ready for that, as an actor or as a woman. But I was at a point where I feel so secure in my life, and secure in who I am, and feel safe enough — because that’s the other thing about alcoholism, or any substance abuse, you can feel so unsafe as the loved one — so, to finally feel fundamentally that I am safe — and that is largely to do with Jack — I was able to go to those places. There were moments where it was fairly overwhelming. But I’m so grateful that it came along when it did.
We often talk about how the body doesn’t know the difference between you and your character screaming and crying all day, but this feels tough even in smaller moments. Was it hard to shake it off at the end of the day when it’s so personal?
No. It wasn’t hard because, actually, it was my therapy. It was my way to work through it, and once I was able to do that in a safe space it felt like the pain was being used for good. That’s what [author]Amy Liptrot says about the book. She says that nobody comes out worse in that book than she does. Like, she’s not doing herself any favors. But while she was writing it, and while she was still pretty early on in recovery, she was doing it for something that was bigger and more important than her. I think we all felt that, and it’s a testament to Nora Fingscheidt, our director, that she was able to create a space for myself, Paapa [Essiedu], Saskia [Reeves], Amy and all of the crew, who would have been triggered by it at different points. We felt like we were a part of something that was calm and supportive. If anyone needed time away from set, we could have it. If I direct one day, I will always want to have that sort of atmosphere on my set.
There’s such a “dance like nobody’s watching” quality to this film, whether it’s her drunken elation, or singing with seals. But you are not alone. Do you get self-conscious anymore when it comes to your work?
Oh, not at all. The thing that I was most self-conscious of was singing in Blitz, but when it comes to that full dance scene that we did, when I’m singing in the kitchen, when I’m howling to the seals… I get embarrassed at stupid things, but I’ve never been embarrassed in that way. Some of it is just who I am, but I think a lot of it is just a gift that I’ve gotten from being an actor. I realized that recently actually. Little Elliott was interviewing me and he asked me, “What advice would you give to a young person?” And I don’t know why, maybe because it was a kid that was asking me, I just thought, “The key to it is you can’t be embarrassed.” Any sense of being embarrassed, or having any inhibition, that needs to be gone, because that is when you’ll truly feel free to give a performance that is unstoppable. I’ve always felt very proud of what I do. As in, the job that I have. I feel very unembarrassed by it. There’s a power that the camera has over me, which I haven’t really experienced onstage. The camera has a power over me where it just gives me this permission to tap into something regardless of what I look like, or what people might think, which is incredible. That’s also paired with wanting people to think that your performance is good. It’s such a strange contradiction, but the feeling of it is very freeing for me.
Why was the singing particularly nerve-wracking?
Because that’s not my job. I’ve always loved music, and I’ve grown up listening to the best singers in the world, and I have a newfound respect for someone who is able to translate emotion while still having technical control over their voice, and, also, has something unusual and unique about their voice. I think that’s a gift from God. I can hold a tune, but I’m not a singer. So, to get up there, and to be that vulnerable, and for your voice to be your tool, I just felt very exposed. I loved it, and I would love to do more of it where I get more time to properly prep, but it was nerve-wracking, for sure.
I want to ask about the lambing scene in The Outrun. I understand it was quite complicated to capture that. Other than being able to do something very unique, why was it important to the film?
So, we actually did it before we started. We did principal photography in the summer, and lambing up in Orkney is around April. At the time, I had just finished another job, and I was like, “Really, Nora? Do we really need to go up to Orkney now? I’m tired.” And she was adamant that she wanted to do this. So, we went up, and it meant that, six months prior to us starting principal photography, me and all the creative team had to establish what Rona’s look was going to be, what her hair look was going to be, which is a big decision to make so early on. Then, we’d get ready at, like, 4 a.m. to be in the shed for half past four, and we would just wait. What we got was so incredible. It’s shown as the contrast between Rona’s life in Orkney, and the life that she’s left behind in London. It’s also showing us, at the end of the day, how black and white life can be. You’re either alive or you’re dead. There’s a brutality to it. To start a movie about addiction like that — and make the audience so shocked by the natural world, which is what we will continue to immerse ourselves in throughout the film — was such a great tone-setter. Even for me, as the person playing Amy Liptrot, it gave me a sense of how Amy grew up and what was expected of her, and any kid that grows up on a farm. I’m glad she made me do it in the end. I delivered, like, seven lambs.
Was it just the coolest thing?
Yeah. It was terrifying. It was so intense, and the noises that those ewes made were insane. I’ve never heard anything like that in my life, but as an at-the-time 28-year-old woman, who would love to have her own kids one day, to pull a baby animal out of another animal, and give this baby back to its mother, and watch them totter off together was incredible. It was so magical.
