Ronke Adékoluejo is shining the spotlight brightly on the distinction between recognition and dedication. A ‘Star of Tomorrow,’ she has just finished playing the role of Viola in the Globe’s Twelfth Night. Ronke is not just an actor, but an advocate; for characters, for herself and for the new generation of creatives. THE REAL sat down with Ronke to discuss new roles, old classics and the childhood promise that she lives by.
Ronke, it’s a pleasure to speak with you on behalf of THE REAL. You were named a ‘Star of Tomorrow’ in 2023—how has that accolade influenced your mindset within your craft?
Hello, the pleasure is all mine – thank you so much for wanting to speak with me! I’m so honoured and chuffed. In answer to your question, it’s less of an accolade, I guess, whereas there is no physical embodiment of that recognition and more of what felt like an investment. It felt like people who were aware of my offering in regard to the artistic landscape had collectively come together and said: “your journey in this industry, your offering, your continual offering of artistry will elevate you to a height which is named as stardom” and I think, to me, that means eminence as opposed to fame. I’ve always been quite reluctant to indulge in this idea of fame because I don’t believe artists, or particularly actors, should hold the level that they currently occupy in regard to the collective consciousness, the zeitgeist, if you will.
I believe that actors, storytellers are supposed to be of service. We’re supposed to lend our bodies, lend our voices, lend our internal landscape and our thought processes, to the stories and the characters that are gifted to us to tell. I don’t know if that means we should be as publicly celebrated as we are because it’s a civil service job in a way. But I suppose that’s just collective psychology – if a group of people like things, then more people are going to like it. It just attracts in that sense. I think with that recognition, it’s a double-edged sword, or should I say that it’s two sides of the same coin. It is motivating because you believe that people are invested in your art and that therefore makes your art sustainable, because you know if people potentially like this flavour of artistry, they’re going to show up and continue to engage with the stories that you are gifted to tell.
Your stage career has spanned a huge spectrum of works, from Twelfth Night and The Importance of Being Earnest to Blues for an Alabama Sky and Lava. How does your artistic process differ between classic and contemporary roles?
Thank you! This is such a good question. It’s interesting because Lava itself had to be a brand new process. One thing I have to say is that each time a character is gifted to me, there does have to be a new process to approach them because they demand different things from you as the storyteller. Lava was like that. Normally I create these books called character books and I answer a hundred questions about the characters. I create imaginatively. There’s this thing that KL Young said about creative imagination which taps into an alternate realm – let’s say a higher existence, a meta existence, where storytelling comes from metaphysics, in its own way. And when I’m gifted a role, a story to tell, really my first thought is “I wonder what this character needs of me and how do I get that to manifest?”
With Twelfth Night, the very first stimulus is Vio shipwrecked. The questions I start asking are: Why is she on a boat? Where was she going? Where was she coming from? Shipwrecks, what does that mean? And because as a person of the African diaspora – Nigeria particularly – which was of the transatlantic trade of enslaved Africans, I also invest in what comes from me in how these characters exist in this body. So, I started to find stories. I found this fictional story called The Deep by Rivers Solomon. It’s a small science fiction book about pregnant enslaved Africans that were thrown overboard slave ships because either they had too much weight aboard the ship, or there was disease going around, or maybe just out of pure cruelty. That they just wanted to throw these pregnant women overboard. And the book leans into this mythology of: if the baby exists in the womb aquatically and if the babies are born underwater, then they just keep breathing and they become mermaids. And if you’re born of water, what does that mean? And there was so much beauty and offering in these fictional stories that helped me create Vio. But you asked, how does my artistic process differ between classic and contemporary? My artistic process differs for every story, be it classical or contemporary. It shifts according to what the character demands of me. That was a great question. Shout out to you.
What is the best memory you have from performing at the National Theatre?
I love this question because the memory is from when I first learned that I am not here, as a storyteller, actor or artist, to be liked. I was playing Aosa in Inua Ellum’s adaptation of Three Sisters at the National. It was my first time at the National and I was gassed. I was proper stoked because it was set in the 1960s in Nigeria during the Brian War, which I didn’t have a lot of knowledge about at the time. So, it was a big learning process for me. My character acted in ways to keep herself and her children safe. She entered this family as an outcast and they treated her as such, but she used what was available to her, which was her desirability. Her sexual liberation – even of that time. She found liberation in her sex and she managed to climb the social ladder.
But this is the moment: in one scene, I spoke back to the matriarch of the household, and for the first few performances, the audience members responded with booing, and they kissed their teeth – and I was aghast. I was like, “I don’t know what this is. I messed it up”. And I came off stage and I thought “What do I need to shift? Why don’t they like her? I love her. What’s going on?” And I remember saying to Sarah Niles, “Something’s wrong. I’ve done it wrong. They hate me.” And Sarah Niles said, “No wrong care. No wrong care. You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do. You are telling the story and you’re igniting them so much that they can’t help but exclaim their disgust, their anger.” She said, “You don’t know what you’re creating in them.” And that is powerful. And in that moment, I realized: “Oh, wow. This is the gift of storytelling. Whether the audience like your character or not – it doesn’t matter. It’s about what you make them feel”. I remember standing outside one day and some Black women came up to me and said, “Oh my god. We hated you so much. You’re so good at what you do. Keep going. Keep going”. But I thought, “Wow, that is so special.” That was brilliant. I had a great time.
Onscreen, your film Dreamers was received beautifully at Berlin in February. What goals do you set for yourself approaching a film with intense themes such as asylum and freedom?
Oh, wow. That’s also another great question. Thank you! The goal I set myself is to make sure that I come away whole. I need to believe that taking care of art’s vessel is just as important as delivering the art. There are going to be people that don’t like the film or don’t like my performance, and that is a blessing because criticism sharpens you. But I took care of myself in those processes because it was an intense shoot. We had two weeks of solid rehearsals in one building, in an old army base and then four weeks of shooting.It was cold and almost isolating.
So, what I do during those processes is look at the scientific aspect of what our bodies do. I research what has happened to the character physically, and I learned that Isio’s body has existed in fight- or- flight response. Her nervous system has been trapped for a very long time. And I thought about how a body in that space would behave differently. Isio is quite erratic. She’s very introverted and isolated and doesn’t want to engage until love is warmed up in her. And in the film – spoiler alert – I attempted to offset my balance, in a way. I wanted her shoulders to be tense and frozen, like when you have a trapped nerve. So, there was a slight off- centering tilt in my posture.
What drew you to the role of Isio and what do you hope audiences take away from the film?
I’ve known Joy (filmmaker) for 10 years. I found a picture on my phone, the other day, of the first time we met, at a barbecue. We were just drawn together, like magnets. And what I remember is that we just spent the whole day sat with each other in the corner. It was fantastic and I learned about Joy’s story as our friendship grew. And I told her about my love for the art and the way in which I see character and storytelling and all those other things. And I believe it was in alignment with the way that she wanted this story to be told. So really this role was a calling to honour my darling friend.
Isio is so different to me because I think I’m quite an ambivert. I enjoy company with people, and I also enjoy isolation. I haven’t had the experience of having to flee anywhere and or being denied the opportunity to love whoever you want to love. I’ve not had those experiences. So really, would it make more sense that Isio needed me? Isio called me – summoned me – to tell this story. I hope that audiences take the time to observe themselves and their privileges, or lack thereof, in their society. I hope that they consider the way immigrants, refugees, and asylum seekers are treated. I hope it prompts them to do something about it. Just sharing the film or speaking about what you experienced during the film does something about it. That feels a little bit like today’s call. We only can ever start with what we have and what we have is ourselves. I really hope people come away from the film wanting to take care of themselves, loving themselves, and knowing that they can overcome any obstacle. That’s what I hope.
What was the first play or film that you truly connected with?
The first film that I fully connected with – which is also my favourite film of all time – was Jackie Brown by Quentin Tarantino, with Pam Grier. Because here was a badass Black woman playing everybody because she could. There was something so heroic about watching this film in my early teens. My parents let me watch everything. I watched Waiting to Exhale. I watched Tina Turner, What’s Love Got to Do With It. But I say Jackie Brown because there is so much great storytelling, but also so much humanity in that film.
And, it doesn’t sound profound, but it really pinpointed a place in my life when I thought “Those are the kind of stories I want to tell”. Where you can be dangerous, sexy, smart, cunning, vulnerable, magnetic, compelling – everything that Pam was. I was like, “This is exactly what I want to do.” And to be honest, I never saw her as a victim. And that was extremely inspiring. Don’t get me wrong, victim stories are also important, and they teach us how to overcome. But for plays…I’m going to have to say Women of Troy. I saw it at the National and I remember in that [particular] production, these women, their voices, the way they told this story about the face that launched a thousand ships, about this burden and blessing of being Helen. Just…wow.
How does it feel to have played the role of Viola in Twelfth Night at Shakespeare’s Globe? After years of stage experience, do you still get nerves before debuting a new role?
Absolutely. Every single time. The fear never goes away. Every single time before I step out on that stage, I genuinely ask myself, “What are you doing? Why are you doing this? This is insanity.” But I literally celebrate my flavour of madness. It is glorious to play Vio and Cesario on the Globe stage. I remember coming to the Globe when I was younger. Vio has gifted me so much already, from everything I learned and the research that I did in preparation. I listened to KL Young’s The Red Book, and Ovid’s Metamorphosis and read Will Tosh’s Straight Acting. And all these different avenues in which Vio manifested herself to me resulted in abundant revelations. I’m always so thankful. It’s such a pleasure. But I always get nervous, because you want to give your audience what they came for, but you never know what that is either.
How important is it that young people continue to watch Shakespeare and the classics?
If I’m honest, I think it is imperative for young people to engage with art across the whole spectrum; art that calls to them and the art that they might feel resistance to. I know some people don’t want to engage with Shakespeare because they don’t always understand what’s being said. But if you watch a production where you finally do understand what they’re saying, it allows you access into a whole realm of artistry that you might not have known was available to you. And it expands you, no matter what. Oscar Wilde, William Shakespeare, Christopher Marlowe, John Ford, all these writers that did the courageous thing of putting pen to paper did it for us, for the young people. And if we are also courageous enough to investigate it, we will not only feel seen, feel heard, feel held, but it will create a limitlessness in us. We’ll understand that there’s always more knowledge. I think it is imperative for young people to continue to watch and engage with art across the whole spectrum, from the 1500s and before that: Homer, the Odyssey, the Greeks, African history, those classics -it’s important because you realize your limitlessness when you do that.
Follow Ronke on Instagram @RONKUSGRAM
