Wearing The North Face, Hollywood’s leading man talks finding solace out of the spotlight.
There are certain kinds of beings that by their very genetic codes, submit to hibernation: a moment of solitude, the space to preserve energy, an adjournment to reset. When their time comes to emerge once more, they’re hungry, fuelled by a desire to compel themselves for what lies ahead. Actor Barry Keoghan is doing just that. He’s not long woken up, voice a little raspier than it appears on screen, but that’s expected given the first utterances of his day are being enunciated—and recorded—through the digital ether at 8am on a Thursday morning.
London is his current bolthole, tied to a busy production schedule, with rumours of up to seven on-screen projects in the pipeline—two of which include the highly anticipated Peaky Blinders film adaptation and unconfirmed speculation about Sam Mendes’ biopic saga on the life of The Beatles. Call it the Keoghan effect, but the blockbusters want Barry. It may be too simplistic to assume this actor’s preferred habitat is on set, especially with his rising demand in the years ahead. And he proves as such. For this Irish performer, a true habitat is exactly as the word implies: outdoors, exploring the vastness of the natural world. “It’s a place where you can feel your best,” he says.
We’re discussing the force of all things bucolic, a handful of days after his Wonderland cover shoot, set in the enchanting recess of London’s Hampstead Heath. Barry clad in The North Face, ambling the urbane woodland was nothing if not a peaceful souvenir of home. “I was always the kid dropping the school bag at the door and running back out again. You know, climbing backyards and balconies in the way that kids do. And we’d always be wearing The North Face.” The earliness of our meeting prohibits cameras from both parties—thankfully so—but there’s detection of a smile in his tone.
At 32-years-old, Keoghan has earned prolific screen time on the flicks, as he does social media clicks—the modern by-product of life in the limelight. Which is why, much like those life-forms seeking refuge through hibernation, the pastoral world has become his tonic. “There’s an isolation to the outdoors,” he continues. And isolation in the best sense, he’d like to add. “There’s a timeless [quality] to it, a feeling of standstill. It’s a whole thing of being disconnected from civilisation and not having a constant reminder of billboards or traffic lights or phones in your hand. It’s a beautiful terrain that allows you to be present and totally appreciate what’s around you. You remember to engage and we forget a lot about how to do that.”
It comes at a time when @Keoghan92 has removed himself from the digital empire, a decision he’s content by, allowing him to turn down the volume button slightly, tuning in to what matters. “I fecking love it, you know,” the rhythmic curse word revealing the Dublin twang. “I’m gaining a lot more from that—and I don’t just mean more work. More…” He thinks. “More core values.” He’s quick to justify his point further, a man conditioned to the harsh reality of an audience analysing his every sentence. “That’s not to say that you can’t have these values with a phone in your hand, but there’s a distraction that leads to consumption and you find yourself…do you know what I mean?” He interrupts himself, with a demeanour of ‘Am I making any sense?’ Perfect sense, Barry. Sense enough to wince at our own exponential screen time stats and benefit as a young Barry did, leaving our school bags at the door making a getaway for the outside world, too.
Barry’s filmography matches up to this affinity for the outdoors. From The Banshees of Inisherin, Bird, Saltburn and Calm with Horses to name a few, a catalogue of sundry Hollywood films feel somewhat allegorical for his lure to beautiful landscapes. Most particularly, a fascination with the creatures that inhabit it. “Everything is thought of as animalistic, right?” A curtained nod follows. “I’m fascinated by how animals don’t have the power to be able to communicate in the way we can variably. We talk to each other, they do it through body language. Every role [I play] has that [element to it]. I might say, this role reminds me of a fox, that one a cat because the character is more timid. I’ve not looked into it too much but I’ve taken my own from it.” But any deference to practical research overlooks Barry’s relationship with animals. He is, by all accounts, a proud dog dad. Voice softening, he reveals a new comrade in the Keoghan clan, a Czech German Shepherd named Duke, merited for his recent obedience training. “There’s no guard up around animals, they see the truth, they see you through it all. That’s why I’ve always watched documentaries about animals, [to discover] how each one is different.”
As for difference, Barry has played both the machiavellian and the moving spirit on screen, but his default setting is the observer.
Curious and contemplative. He likens his talents as a mere act of people watching, in which he’s extracting: opening and repackaging the boxes from his own lived experience to feel closer to a character. Throughout Barry’s career-spanning press, he has openly communicated the impact of life in the foster-care system and losing his mother to addiction. “A role can really bring some stuff to the surface and make you realise things about yourself.” Age allows for more control, he adds. “It’s through a lot of therapy, healing and self-awareness that I can bring it forward, use it in a way that’s contained, and can put it back to bed. Otherwise, if you bring this to the surface in a role, you’ve gotta go home and sit with that. Sometimes, you don’t even know what that it is, and you’ve just opened an entire can of worms because you wanted to get to a certain place.” For today at least, the only can that’s been opened will fill Duke’s bowl.
Left: Barry wears TOP – UNISEX GORE-TEX MOUNTAIN JACKET: TNF BLACK; BOTTOMS – MEN’S HIMALAYAN TRACK TROUSERS : CLAY GREY-TNF BLACK; boots TIMBERLAND; socks stylist’s own. Right: Barry wears TOP – MEN’S 1996 RETRO NUPTSE JACKET : SUMMIT GOLD-TNF BLACK.
Where does nostalgia come into play when you’re tied to a life of metamorphosis? “I look back a lot,” he confesses, like the rest of us. “Each movie is a family. I feel like I have 20 families, because there’s an understanding that we’re all away from our comforts and our loved ones to create something. They all hold such a place and remind me of a time in my life. Like during Saltburn, when I had my baby boy. Banshee’s of Inisherin—great movie by the way,” he interrupts himself with a giggle and a lollop of boyish esteem.
“One of the best feelings is being part of that bubble, you know. I’m constantly reminded that we all suffer something, some sort of knock-on effect from what we are trying to pursue.” It’s taken Barry a little time to discover why hibernation is necessary for the art. “I never understood it before, why actors would step away. But it’s such a healthy approach because you need time to grow, time to learn, time to live and cry and laugh.” We’d get sick of seeing his face otherwise, he jests. “With every role, I’m figuring out who I am and letting everyone else in on that, too. It’s a very vulnerable side when you let people really see you.”
Barry doesn’t play the masquerade as a show-and-tell for the sake of the audience, however. Not merely an entertainer, his purpose is more finite: an interlocutor with a dialogue that allows the audience to form their own conclusions. “I’m not here to tell you how to feel watching a movie,” he says. “I’m sharing my interpretation, but everyone views a movie in a different way. You’re not wrong for feeling a certain way or being in a certain lane going into a movie. But I don’t want to preempt any feelings. I’m trying to bring forward some truth for people to relate to it. I remember someone once said to me, ‘You look really happy in this scene.’ But my version of happiness probably isn’t what you think it is. It’s like when you look at a painting, without the summary underneath, you’re just looking at it and seeing it for what it is. That’s the best moment, when you don’t know anything about the art.”
Where Barry’s influence truly matters most is when he’s just Barry—shedding the veneer of becoming someone else. Notably, he’s an ambassador for Barretstown, a children’s charity running therapeutic events for children with serious illnesses. “It’s crazy when people start listening to you. Not to say what I’m saying is valid or interesting—it probably still remains not interesting,” a streak of self-consciousness arrives. The man, not the movie-maker speaking. “I wanted to capitalise on having a platform, especially with my love of animals and the foster-care community. I was one of those kids in foster care. If there’s a way I can give them a bit of confidence to know that there was someone—it sounds so egotistical and cocky—but if there was someone like me back in the day, to meet them and let them know they’re normal, to normalise their situation and feel valid like they belong in the world. To show these kids that they can do whatever they want to do, achieve whatever they want. To look at me and see that I’m here doing normal things, showing up on the screen with a big pimple on my face—it’s about trying to make it fun for them and feel seen.”
The morning is fast approaching, and London calls for its inhabitants to begin their days. And though Barry now calls this city home, another capital will forever be etched into his soul. “I think of myself crossing that River Liffey [in Dublin], walking to the bus stop of the 123, going to Bow Street acting workshops, mitching off school [bunking he translates], and in every weather I’d cross it.” A pause. “And I want to say this because it’s my Mum’s birthday today. When I’d cross that river, I’d always carry €2.20. For the bus fair, and to leave a Euro on my Mum’s grave to let her know I’m always thinking of her and working hard to get where I am.” Of that, Barry proves that we really are no different to the very animals he adores. Creatures filled with love, pain, and fear—yet united through it all.
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Photography by Paul Hempstead
Styling by Tony Cook
Words by Scarlett Baker
Grooming by Nadia Stacey
Set Design by Po Lin
Photography Assistant Luke Fullalove
Fashion Assistant Sally Bottomley
Grooming Assistant Sophie Holt