Born and raised in Cork, in the south-west of Ireland, the theatre, film and television actor Sarah Greene was just six years old when she first stepped on stage, performing in local musical theatre and pantomimes. She later attended Cada Performing Arts school in Cork and then the Gaiety School of Acting in Dublin, from which she graduated in 2006.
Greene’s interpretation of Helen in Martin McDonagh’s The Cripple of Inishmaan in 2013 earned her Olivier and Tony award nominations, while her screen credits include Bad Sisters, Normal People, Vikings and Dublin Murders. Now 39, she lives in London and Belfast with her partner and son. Greene is currently starring in Sexy Beast on Paramount+.
When I was five years old, I was cast as the Virgin Mary in the infants’ school nativity play. With my blue cape and stern expression, I took the role incredibly seriously. I was very much in character as a committed mother. I actually still have that Tiny Tears doll at my family home in Cork, although she’s missing a lot of hair. When I wasn’t performing, I liked to give her locks a chop. Particularly the fringe.
The following year, it was decided that the school would give another child a chance at Mary. The teachers thought it would be a good idea to pull the name of the next girl to play the role out of a hat. When they did that, it was Sarah Greene, yet again. I was Mary two years in a row, much to the disdain of some of the other girls’ mothers. It was a real drama, a proper controversy.
Even though I was young, I had already realised that acting was my ambition. Around this time, my parents had got me tickets in the dress circle to see Cinderella at Cork opera house, and while I was watching it, all I could think about was how I longed to be with the actors on stage. You wouldn’t have guessed it to meet me back then; I was very quiet and super shy, far from an extrovert. I found interactions with people I didn’t know agonising. I have memories of my mum asking me to go into the supermarket on my own and absolutely hating it. Acting helped my confidence grow. What I loved most was putting on masks and being able to express myself through other characters.
At the age of six, I entered a talent competition. My solo performance was Miss Hannigan in Annie and I really threw myself into it – walking around the stage holding an empty bottle of vodka and wearing my mum’s high heels. Everyone was terrified I would trip up and break my ankles, but I adored pretending to be this drunk woman singing Little Girls. I came second and it was all the encouragement I needed to know this was the life for me. Being on stage was where I felt my best self.
My childhood was very outdoorsy: running around the fields and woods that surrounded the old farmhouse I grew up in. When my parents originally bought it they had no intention of becoming farmers, but they inherited lots of potbellied pigs, cats and dogs from the previous owner – chickens, too. We didn’t even eat their eggs as we considered them our pets. It was all very wholesome.
My mum was a stay-at-home mother and my dad worked in telecommunications, and still does. Even though acting was an unknown profession to them, they were unbelievably supportive, especially as there were a few teachers who would complain because I was missing so much school – although I wasn’t lagging behind.
From a very young age I was driven, and my parents encouraged me at every step because they were so relieved I’d found something I was passionate about. I’ve made sure they have always come along for the ride – they have joined me at awards shows and when I’ve been performing in New York and filming in France. They have been there for the less glamorous jobs, too. I remember my dad coming to see me when I was in a not very good play in Dublin. At the end, he was the only person giving a standing ovation. Afterwards, I said: “Oh no! Dad, you didn’t need to stand.” He said: “I’ve always stood, and I always will stand for you.”
I had worked for years in Irish theatre, and had done a couple of films along the way, but it wasn’t until The Cripple of Inishmaan that film and TV really opened their doors to me. The Tony nomination put me on the map. I was up against some phenomenal talent, so I wasn’t worried that I would have to get up on the platform and give a speech, but it was a brilliant and surreal night – and something that totally changed the course of my career.
It wasn’t always easy. The first time I remember being rejected by a production and feeling hurt was when I was 10. I had auditioned for the Cork Operatic Society’s production of The Sound of Music, and had to sing Happy Birthday – which is actually a really hard song to sing. I didn’t get it, and was heartbroken. Devastated. My parents said: “If this is the job you want to do, you’re going to have to get used to that.” There are still times when I’m quite sad about not getting a role, but I’ve since come to realise that it’s often nothing to do with your talent – it’s what you look like, your height or something fundamental that is completely out of your hands.
When it comes to surviving the entertainment industry as a woman today, it certainly feels like the landscape is changing for the better. I’ve been fortunate to be consistently surrounded by inspirational women throughout my career: when I was doing panto and plays as a child, I was performing with a lot of female actors from different generations, who taught me so many skills and opened me up socially.
I became a mum a few years ago and it has definitely exposed me to new emotions. However, before I had my son, I’d already explored maternal roles: first as Rosie in the 2018 film of the same name; and then as Lorraine in Normal People. I was on set on the first day of filming Normal People, and from the opening scene I realised that Paul [Mescal] and Daisy [Edgar-Jones] were electric and that we were in the presence of something great. Quite rightly, they have since become superstars, but I don’t think I’d want their level of fame. I like to be able to sit in a restaurant, eat some food, and for no one to look at me. I want to be able to have a conversation and not feel like I am being eavesdropped on. The older I get, the more I just want to do my job, come home, see my little boy and try to get him to bed.
I don’t put up with crap any more. I’m very capable of speaking my mind if I think something’s not right, which I didn’t do so much when I was younger, as I was scared to rock the boat and lose the job.
Not that I have much cause to speak out at the moment – I’m in the middle of shooting the new series of Bad Sisters, so I’m surrounded by incredibly powerful, smart, supportive women every day on set. From our lord and saviour Sharon Horgan, the genius that she is, to its directors and producers, the whole show is female-led, which I find really sexy and exciting.
While I care less what people think of me, I am, and always have been, a bit of a people-pleaser. When I look at this photo, I see a little girl who wants to be someone’s best friend. I’d love to go back and give her a hug, and tell her life’s going to be cool and that even though it sometimes feels like she’s the shyest kid in the room, she’s not so quiet any more.
