A producer, actor and activist, Rosie O’Donnell – once an American screen constant with a critically acclaimed talk show – is embracing a new life in Ireland. She talks family ties, a serendipitous return to theatre and why she’ll never stay quiet where it matters

Interview: Cheryl Caira. Lead image credit: Gene Reed

At the start of our interview, Rosie O’Donnell’s face lights up as brightly as Broadway. Although this time we’re talking about London’s West End and a recent revival of Evita, starring actor and singer Rachel Zegler, which has left O’Donnell enthralled.

 “It was electric; unbelievable! It was the best female performance I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m back again in a few weeks to see the opening of the Burlesque musical, because my friend Orfeh is starring in it. That access to theatre is what I miss most about New York.”

The Rosie O’Donnell Show – an 11-time Emmy award-winner, running from 1996 to 2002 – was a regular showcase for O’Donnell’s love of Broadway. The chat show was credited with giving both new and established productions a TV spotlight. Now, the host is steeling herself for a completely new world of theatre. The big top of artistic delights that is the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and even having performed in some of the world’s biggest venues and headlining at the most prestigious comedy clubs, she still isn’t quite sure what to expect. 

“We took the regular stand-up set that I was doing about having moved to Ireland, and moulded it into a one-woman show. So it’s not just stand-up, it’s hopefully the precursor to a show that will eventually head somewhere like the West End. I’ve read everything that I can get my hands on about the Fringe, and I know that it could be as strange as seeing a bearded woman on a unicycle juggling cats to someone doing Shakespeare soliloquies to rap. I’m thrilled I get to participate.”

Her debut Fringe show – Common Knowledge – will unfurl on stage at Gilded Balloon, the long-time venue run by Karen and Katy Koren. “When they told me they were a mother-daughter team on our first call, it was a sign. That’s a theme running through my show – it’s about my relationship with my mother, being a daughter, becoming a mother to my 12-year-old, Clay, and what we’ve learned on our voyage from America to Ireland.”

For the past seven months, O’Donnell and her adopted child Clay have lived in Sandymount, a coastal suburb-come-leafy-village on the outskirts of Dublin. Reconnecting with her stand-up roots and performing in comedy clubs in the city has intertwined with a return to her heritage. She has applied for Irish citizenship – her father was born in County Donegal, and her mother was born in the US to parents who immigrated from County Kildare. 

“I was 10 years old when I lost my mother, and I spent a summer in Ireland after her death. Now I’m back here – 52 years later – with a kid around the same age and it’s almost like reliving part of my history with a different role. We didn’t know what was going to happen when we came here. I was very concerned about Clay, who has autism, and the drastic change of routine. It was beyond what I could even hope for in terms of my child’s acceptance and growth. There’s so much more freedom and we’re loving every moment of it.

“The people are so kind and welcoming. Celebrity culture is not what it is in the United States, where it’s held up as the panacea. In a country where people crave it, it takes a toll on your self-esteem and self-image. If people here do recognise me, they’ll usually just stop me and say: ‘Rosie, welcome to Ireland’ – rather than asking for an autograph or a picture. It’s just human to human, and that’s so refreshing.”

O’Donnell’s decision to move across the pond was driven by concerns over the political climate in the US, following Donald Trump’s re-election for a second term in 2024. Although they’ve never met or spoken directly, there’s been no love lost between O’Donnell and the 47th president of the United States. Posts on social media in recent weeks include Trump “giving serious consideration” to revoking O’Donnell’s US citizenship, while she responded via Instagram: “You are everything that is wrong with America – 
and I’m everything you hate about what’s still right with it.”

Although O’Donnell is now far from the US – in mileage, culturally and politically – she still feels jolts to her nervous system tied to Trump’s decisions from the White House. “I’m still an American citizen and I care about my country, but I’m not sure that I would have been able to maintain stability in my mental and physical health had I not left. Trump has branded me as his enemy, therefore a third of the country feel that I’m their enemy as well.

“I’ve been on meds since 1999, when the Columbine massacre happened and I was incapacitated by the fact that in America, children were killing each other in schools. I couldn’t believe it, and I still can’t believe it. There are more guns in America than there are people, and that’s really sad. The NRA and the lobby group that they represent have done tremendous damage to American citizens. 

“I felt the need to speak out after Columbine, and I’ve spoken out about many issues since. I feel if you have a microphone, it’s your responsibility to do that. It’s very hard to stay hopeful right now, but I have a big platform and I need to use it to inspire, not to bring terror and fear. I’m not going to be quiet about my feelings, and I’m going to stand up for all those people who are morally and ethically opposed to every decision that Trump has made. When I see people cheering on this ‘big, beautiful bill’, I feel the America that I grew up with – that I know and love – is no longer viable.”

With a Fringe show reflecting on a time of change and transition, I wonder: how does she find trying to live in the present? “I jump ahead to the future a lot. Kids who grew up in troubled families often try to assess the situation and see where the danger lies, in order to plan their escape and to survive. My father was a distant man who struggled with a lot of things, so we kind of raised ourselves with the help of the neighbours. I am a child that lived through that kind of tragic childhood – as many people do – so I’m hyper-vigilant to abuse and injustice. I always have been, and it’s the reason I will continue to do all the philanthropic stuff I’ve done my whole career, no matter the cost.”

As Mary in And Just Like That

When O’Donnell contemplates what success means within her life, her career is no longer the be-all and end-all. “It was when I was younger. I had myopic vision in relation to what I wanted to do. In my high school yearbook, everybody wrote: ‘Say hi to Johnny Carson’, because I wanted to be on The Tonight Show. And although I’ve done the show many times, I never got to do it with him – he was the man who set the standard as a talk show host. I learned everything that I knew from him. I think of my life in terms of my relationships now, rather than my job, and who I love and how to live as authentically as possible. In Hollywood, that’s very difficult to do.”

When she contemplated the roles that might become part of her playbook, did a tourist nun losing her virginity in a Sex and the City revival spring to mind? “I love Michael Patrick King [And Just Like That’s creator] and I’ve been friends with Cynthia Nixon for over 30 years. I admire her so much – her political activism, her intelligence, the way she loves and parents. To play a role where I had to be in love with her character, Miranda, wasn’t acting at all. It was the most fun I’ve ever had on a set.

“When this role came up, I spent some time talking to friends who had become late-in-life lesbians, as they’re known in the gay community. I knew I was a lesbian from a young age, and I always thought: ‘How could you not know?’ I think I understand it better now as a 63-year-old woman – wisdom comes with menopause, and that’s one of the blessings of getting older.”

O’Donnell is looking forward to swapping one slice of Celtic energy for another – exploring Edinburgh, then returning to the place that now feels like home. “I thought it would feel a bit like self-imposed exile, but it really doesn’t. I miss my older children – I have four between 22 and 30 – and my friends of course, but we keep in touch and do the best that we can. It feels like the best kind of permanent vacation, and it’s been the greatest joy and lesson of my life to have Clay with me – this little human with a different operating system that I’m trying to understand as best I can, and guide towards a happy life.”