Forty years of performing at the same theatre has done nothing to dim the passion and the presence of actor Des Cave, writes Stephen Dixon
From boyhood, Des Cave wanted to be an actor. In the early 1960s he attended a Dublin drama school run by Capt Myles O'Malley O'Donoghue, but then took a permanent, pensionable job, this year celebrating 40 years with the same firm. However, his is not a story of youthful thespian hopes dashed, of a lifetime spent not being a professional actor. For the firm is the Abbey, and Cave is almost the last of the National Theatre's staff actors.
In the volatile world of the performing arts, where most members of Irish Actors' Equity are out of work at any given time - and even in real life, where short-term contracts in any field are now the norm - this security of employment over such a long period seems quite extraordinary, if not vaguely preposterous, and it has suited Cave down to the ground.
"It was a choice I made with my life," he says. "It just never occurred to me to move away from the Abbey. I enjoy the work I'm doing. I met my wife Anne here, she was in charge of wardrobe, and we've got two kids and a house, and that's all come out of the Abbey, so I can't complain.
"People are surprised when I say how long I have been at the Abbey. They ask why I stayed. When I joined, the pinnacle was to get into the Abbey as a stepping-stone; T.P. McKenna said the Abbey is a state or place where actors go before they go to England. Well, I got in, but I didn't step any further. I've been very happy and very lucky. But at 61 I'm not going to start saying: 'Oh, if only I'd . . .' Of course, one wants to get the movie parts, and I've done those a little less than I would have liked. But I'm content."
When he joined the Abbey there was a permanent acting company of about 25, augmented by part-time contracts, and his contemporaries were the likes of Donal McCann, Stephen Rea and Geraldine Plunkett. Some left, died or retired; some took London's West End or Hollywood by storm. Now only he and Clive Geraghty remain.
Des Cave is still an almost supernaturally fine-looking man in late middle-age, so in his 20s he must have been fairly devastating; it is said that girls sometimes swooned in the Abbey aisles when he appeared. With the diffidence that has characterised his career, he acknowledges this in a self-mocking kind of way: "I was second juvenile lead to Donal, and the girls swooned for Donal more. We went around together, so there was double the swooning! But more recently, when my son's girlfriend told her mother that Brian's father was Des Cave, she said: 'Oh, I used to have a big crush on him'. Which is a bit sobering."
Up until the early 1960s, it was very hard for an actor to scratch a full-time living in Ireland, and after performers went on strike for better conditions in 1965, proper union representation and adequate contracts were introduced. It was against this background that the Abbey started its own theatre school (which Cave joined after his stint with Capt O'Malley O'Donoghue) and developed the full-time company. About the same time RTÉ founded the Radio Éireann Players, and being a professional actor became much more of a viable proposition.
In his 40 years with the Abbey, Cave, who opens this week in Brian Friel's The Aristocrats as Uncle George, has played hundreds of parts, ranging from First Stevedore in Fairy Tales of New York (1971) and Second Parchment Attendant in Prisoner of the Crown (1972) to the starring roles in The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui (1974) and Don Juan (1983). Always the most stalwart of actors, there has been an interesting late flowering, and the nuanced subtleties of his performances as Jack in Dancing at Lughnasa (2000) and Hugh in Translations (2001) surprised those who might have considered him to be basically the Abbey's ultra-reliable plodder and impressed a new generation of theatre-goers.
Naturally, he has a tremendous loyalty to the Abbey and worries about the National Theatre's future. "The major challenge is trying to solve the problem of the premises; whether they can rebuild on this site, which has big disadvantages because of acquiring premises further back towards the river. There was some talk about the site of the old Carlton, but as far as I know the recent state of affairs is that the Abbey is not moving from this site. But the problem is to build a new theatre complex and the money required.
"It started with an original feasibility study 10, 12 years ago; Patrick Mason brought it up and we were talking then about £20 million-25 million [€25 million-€32 million\], and now we're talking about €80 million. And the money isn't there. As far as I know, we'll get a euro for every euro we raise, so the Abbey itself, from its own sponsorship or whatever, would have to raise €40 million, and that's not happening at the moment. The money would have to be raised through really serious sponsorship, and I don't know where that's going to come from. And if you do get that kind of sponsorship, what's the tag? Who's going to sponsor the National Theatre? And what is the price?"
One alarming current notion suggests that the Public Private Partnership proposal might see this valuable site developed into primarily commercial premises, with the Abbey as just one part of it, rather like a cinema housed in a mall of retail outlets.
Cave shudders at the thought, and cites London's South Bank and Manchester's Lowry Centre as more appropriate models for a new Abbey - everything arts-oriented, including the commercial outlets, and incorporating places where you can also hang out and enjoy a good meal or a few drinks.
We're sitting in the upstairs Abbey bar, and Cave gazes gloomily out at the ugly disruption of Abbey Street caused by the Luas work. "Look at it. We seem to be in the middle of Berlin in 1946. We have a government that says: 'Yes, we would love the arts to have this, that and the other, but we also think big business should be involved'. It's almost like: 'Could you not get Tony O'Reilly to build it for you and you can call it The O'Reilly National Theatre? Don't ask the State, don't ask the taxpayer because we're in deep shit even trying to get a Luas and a Metro up - and you want us to rebuild a National Theatre!' Eight years ago we were awash with money - where has it gone? It hasn't gone into the arts, anyway.
"How important does the nation feel a National Theatre is? There seems to be an attitude: 'Ah sure, it looks after itself; it does what it does.' But the average man and woman in the street don't go to the Abbey. Ireland has a love-hate relationship with it, a bit like we do with the Church. When were you last at Mass? When were you last at the Abbey? Everything to do with plans for the Abbey is now put on hold because of next year being the 100th anniversary. Maybe Ben Barnes will be able to kick-start something. Is it a hundred years too late to start again, and this time get a proper theatre?"
Suddenly, Cave seems to sense that he's getting a bit too serious for an interview that essentially celebrates his 40 years on the boards - "I thought I'd better get this one in before dementia sets in".
The mood lightens, and the rest of our time together he devotes to actory stories, complete with faultless impersonations of the legends with whom he has worked. There was the play, early in his career, in which star Cyril Cusack generously turned his back to the auditorium at dress rehearsals so that all attention would be focused on Cave during the young actor's one big scene - then, of course, on opening night turned to play the scene directly to the audience, leaving Cave talking to Cusack's back.
But being the victim of a master scene-stealer was a valuable lesson. Micheál Mac Liammoir instructed him to put so much make-up on for one role that he "looked like Worzel Gummidge" and after the show crossly demanded to know why he looked so ridiculous. Now it is Cave who is the senior figure at the Abbey, passing on the tricks of the trade to younger colleagues.
When he looks through the window again his expression is far less bleak. Perhaps he's seeing past the Luas devastation to another Abbey Street, 40 years ago, when everything was possible, and he and his friend Donal McCann are sauntering towards the Flowing Tide pub, two young bucks trailing swooning girls in their wake.
Aristocrats opens tonight at the Abbey
