Culture That Made Me: Cork actress Norma Sheahan picks her touchstones
Norma Sheahan brings her comedy show to Cork Opera House.
Born in 1976, Norma Sheahan grew up in Whitechurch, Co Cork. Since qualifying from acting school at Rada, she has performed leading roles in plays such as Willy Russell’s Shirley Valentine and an award-winning turn in Enda Walsh’s Bedbound in 2000.
Her screen credits include and She will perform her comedy show, at Cork Opera House, Thursday, January 22.
I know some of the adults who stood next to Bosco. The Cork actor Frank Twomey was one of the presenters on the programme. He passed away recently. A lovely guy. We loved the presenters, didn't we? They were like scary kids, because they were like adults that hadn't grown up.
My biggest education was “the magic door” on Bosco. It was fascinating. There was something new every day, like they'd show you how a bee pollinated a flower or the making of sausages another day – the pig meat being mulched up and forced into this big, long balloon, which is the intestines of the cow. It looks like a never-ending condom. That was the end of it for me. I've never eaten a sausage since.
Growing up, I loved and – the love thing and the raunchiness of them. I always knew I was going to be an actor, but in Cork being an actor meant being in the pantomime. I didn't know what plays were. I didn't see plays. I saw the panto, I saw musicals. I was in Montfort [a college of performing arts] doing music-y type stuff. So, seeing and because they had music in them, that was brilliant. It wasn't until I moved to UCD – and joined the Drama Society – and then on to Rada that I realised I could perform without singing. Cork was very heavy in musical stuff.
My favourite concert ever is the Michael Jackson – Bad Tour concert at Cork’s Páirc Uí Chaoimh in 1988. I had just done my confirmation. My mother's friend couldn't make it. I went with mam and her friends in the back of the car. They were all drinking whiskey in the car. I got snuck in on Sunday night with a Saturday leftover ticket. My sisters hated me because they were older and they had gone on the Saturday, and this 12-year-old brat got in on the Sunday. It blew my mind. I couldn't believe it. Nothing has matched it since.
I still can't stand Shakespeare. I can't believe theatre is dedicated to that rubbish. When I was in Rada, they gave me the lead – to get the lead in the Shakespeare play in the final year is massive – and there was nearly a protest: “Your one doesn't even like Shakespeare.” Anyway, I did a great job, to shove it up their backsides, but Shakespeare is such drivel.
I have seen a brilliant version of Richard III – so I'll give that one to Shakespeare – with Denis Conway, a great Cork actor. Maybe it was his Cork accent or his way of giving it, but I actually understood it. I love Denis Conway. I do loads with him. I did with him last year. I did with him. I did with him. I adore him. He was a neighbour of mine growing up. His mum was a friend of my mum’s – a Whitechurch-Blarney thing.
I’m obsessed with Lyra. She's Cork's Beyoncé. Her voice is equally as good as Beyoncé; her dancing and singing is on par. Her outfits are unreal. But the Cork accent, I don't know if that will travel or not!
Brian Friel’s is a brilliant play. In drama school, I had the older sister Kate part, the part Meryl Streep played in the movie. She's the bossy, angry one. I'm from a house with five sisters. Dancing with Lughnasa has five sisters. I totally get the bickering. At home, I'd be the gobdaw, the runt of the litter, couldn't even wash a cup. If they gave me the Hoover, I'd be using it as a microphone to sing a song. But when I did Lughnasa, I got to play the OCD, bossy sister, Kate the teacher. There's a beautiful moment where she's being a bitch, and it dawns on her, and she says, “I am a miserable cow.”
It’s the same with Mena in Sive. When I did in the Gaiety last year, I was Mena, who's the bossy one. I do angry women really well! Mena is the cause of Sive dying. She gets her comeuppance at the end when Sive’s boyfriend comes in at the end and goes, “You’re the scum of the earth. May you rot in hell.” And she falls apart. I love playing the horrid creature that gets their comeuppance. I wouldn't be playing Juliet – not for me.
The novels by Jilly Cooper and Judy Blume’s … were my sex education. we used to rob from under my mam's bed. My sister had written the dirty pages on the back of it.
I loved Ricky Gervais reminds me of Roy Keane. They're so horrible, so aggressive. I love a cranky person. I remember that scene with that guy, Big Keith, eating the Scotch egg, as they called it. Or there was “the Ricky dance” scene. Sometimes it was just a look or a roll of an eye. The simpler things are great.
I’ve a lovely part in the new series of Peter Foott, the Cork person who created it, is a genius. The two lads in s – Alex Murphy, Chris Wally – are class. Like, how can you find so many ways to be stupid? The show is never-ending. It should be over by now, but there’s such an appetite to watch it around the world. My kids are obsessed with it. The only time they've ever got excited or had any respect for me was when I said, “I’ve got a part in
Siobhán McSweeney from is a favourite actor. She's ruling the world. She’s very Maggie Smith. It's just this, “So girls, if you're all under pressure today and you're feeling low, whatever you do, don't come blabbering to me.” It's the dry roll of the eye. She’s a genius.
by John C. Parkin is my favourite book. Everything can be fixed with a “fuck it” attitude. Don't worry. Nothing is a problem. Non-attachment is one element of it. It's quite Buddhist – if you get frustrated about something, it's because you're attached to it. So don't have belongings. Say someone scratches your car and you go, “Hey, don't worry about it. It’s only a car.” But if you've put so much value and attachment on your Volkswagen car, and someone scratches it, it ruins your week. There's no point worrying. Worrying is like paying interest on a debt you haven't even received.
