Learning Victoria's secret

Victoria Smurfit: Will be dressing down for her latest stage role in 10 Rounds.

Victoria Smurfit does an excellent impersonation of your average jobbing actress.

Lean and laid-back in jeans and scuffed trainers, a simple silver cross at her throat, she has the look of someone hungry for that Hollywood break. She talks like one, too. You know, the 'panic' of never working again, the 'sting' of rejection.

The ES team on the photo shoot emerge from a hot studio full of praise for her professionalism and charm. 'It's OK,' they whisper to me, as we prepare for the interview in the caf? outside, 'she's really, really nice.' It's not often you hear that about an established actress.

But moments into our chat about her performance in the controversial new Carlo Gebler play, 10 Rounds, Victoria's 'Miss Average' cover is blown. A smooth, Med-tanned type has appeared from nowhere to pump her hand furiously. 'Victoria! How are you? I had a wonderful dinner with your father last week at Colombe d'Or!'

Victoria's father is the Irish paper and packaging magnate Dermot Smurfit, head of a dynastic company so fabulously successful it is reportedly worth £1.6 billion. You can safely assume that this 28-year-old will never be short of the lucre that fuels so many acting ambitions. Yet mention the family fortune and she struggles to maintain her sunny charm.

'Urgh. It is always assumed that I should have no desire to work because someone else in my family made money,' she sighs, turning away.

'My parents are very down-to-earth people and I've never relied on hand-outs. That's made me proud, not being a cap-in-hand girl. I mean, why should I be? I find it quite exhausting having to justify my reason for being, because I come from a successful family.'

But surely it's a credit to her and her family that she has grown up with such a powerful work ethic when she could have followed the path of other Trustafarian wastrels?

'Oh no, my brother and I would have been beaten around the head if we'd gone off the rails. Maybe you just hear about the other sort because they're louder about it. The rest of us just get on with life. This doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed the benefits of my family, you know the nice houses, the restaurants...' she says, rolling her eyes over the Colombe d'Or moment.

The houses included a turreted mansion in the smart Dublin suburb of Dalkey, where Victoria and her younger brother Dermot, now a London lawyer, spent most of their very happy childhood. When Victoria was 14, the family moved to Surrey and the Irish girl with ginger frizz and glasses was sent to board at St George's, Ascot. It wasn't a happy time.

'For the first term I threatened to swim home,' she laughs. 'I'd been moved from a co-ed school in Ireland to an all-girls' school in England. Suddenly you're in a place with adolescent girls and nothing to diffuse their neuroses.'

Her next hurdle was to convince her father she should become an actress. 'He wasn't at all keen on the idea,' she says, 'because acting is the business of rejection. And he's right. I don't think anyone would like their child to go into a business where 90 per cent of the time they're told "no". And that's if they're lucky. But in the end the fact that his child was going into a business she loved became an overriding factor.'

The edge of weariness in Victoria's voice suggests she has had to pick herself up several times from the 'don't call us, we'll call you' knockback. But she has also given her family plenty of proud moments.

While Victoria was still training at the Old Vic, she was spotted by Albert Finney at a race meeting near Dublin and ended up starring with him in the film The Run of the Country. After a spate of period dramas, and her role as Orla in Ballykissangel, she landed the part of Jane Fitzpatrick, Adam's feisty childhood sweetheart in Cold Feet, who successfully seduces him on his stag night. 'After that episode ran people came up to me in the street and said, "Don't you dare take him away!"' The series finally gave her household-name status, and no doubt helped her secure the coveted role opposite Hugh Grant in About A Boy.


Earlier this year Victoria filmed a martial-arts movie, Bulletproof Monk, playing a military-suited villainess with a lethal high-kick. It seems like a bizarre departure, but it's one that will give her vital exposure in the US. Making it in Hollywood is something she wants badly. So badly, she was prepared to leave her new husband, Doug Baxter, director of the advertising and marketing agency Rothko, at home in Ireland while she filmed in Toronto for five months.

'All the travelling hasn't made things easy at home,' she says, pausing. 'Anyone who says it's easy clearly doesn't care very much. We miss each other desperately.' The couple married two years ago in a lavish ceremony in a country-house hotel in Surrey. The bride wore Ben de Lisi and the Bollinger flowed all night. 'Oh yes,' says Victoria, smiling, 'Dad was very good to us. All sorts of casualties were found in the grounds the next day.'

Since then the couple have moved back to Dublin, but an idyllic life of horse riding, surfing in the numbingly cold waters off the south coast and occasionally playing the role of smiling corporate wife hasn't dampened her acting ambitions. 'I've certainly set myself goals of where I'd like my career to be before we have children,' she says, 'and any ovary itching has been satisfied by our new dog. He's so sweet.'

Part of that game plan includes a month-long run in 10 Rounds, an erotic thriller set in Northern Ireland which, at face value, is a series of two-handers about relationships, but has a more sinister, political subtext.

'The story is loosely based on the findings of the ombudsman's report into the Omagh bombing, which sounds very deep and unwatchable, but it's used as a point of debate,' explains Victoria. 'I suppose it's saying just because the Peace Process isn't on the front pages at the moment, don't forget about it. It asks a lot of questions through relationships? oh, and there's lots of sex.'

The cast, male and female, are required to strip off. Completely. Coupled with the sensitive subject matter, this play should ignite delicious controversy. 'Hmmm,' she says, burying her face in a ham sandwich, 'I tell myself I should be cool about the nudity, but I'm deeply terrified.'

And how about Doug? 'He doesn't necessarily want to see it and I don't necessarily want to do it, but that's that, really.'

She says one of the most important things marriage has given her is a support system. So Doug will be there (with a fixed smile on his face, I imagine) on the first night.

'He's been great about telling me not to put myself down,' she explains. 'He keeps knocking me on the head about this: stop telling everybody you're terrible because one day they might believe it.'

Victoria is right. She does play herself down. That's why you can't help but wish her all the luck of the Irish.

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