A mystery wrapped in an enigma, Antonia Campbell-Hughes is a hugely talented individual. A designer, writer and artist as well as an actor, she has a voracious work ethic. Her steely determination is matched with a breezy desire not to be pigeonholed. There’s always something else to try, something new to learn.

This innate sense of defiance has also kept her from falling into the tropes that are presumed to be part and parcel of a successful career as a female actor. She has indeed dated famous, party-loving musicians, but always took great care to ensure that she remained out of the spotlight – and the tabloids. It is, as they say, a measure of the woman. She is not interested in clichés.
Antonia began designing and acting at a young age and was almost instantly successful. And she has continued in that vein. She has appeared naked in several films and has done graphic sex scenes – but she has never once stumbled into the trap of cheap titillation. It’s safe money that we won’t see this woman twerk.
She has little desire to toe the party line or play it safe when it comes to either her roles, or to discussing difficult subject matter. In her films to date, she has played a withdrawn sleepwalker who may or may not have committed a murder (The Other Side of Sleep); an emotionally scarred woman with a taste for consent-optional sadomasochistic sex (Kelly & Victor); and real-life kidnap and sexual abuse victim Natasha Kampusch (3096).
She never shies away from addressing the moral and emotional grey areas of her work – or from going to extremes to understand her characters’ pain. Which might make 31-year-old Campbell-Hughes an intimidating force. Instead, Antonia is warm and chatty, with a desire to engage and explore the most complex aspects of her life and her work. Where better to start than at the beginning?

You moved around a lot as a kid, and went to different schools in places like Germany, Switzerland and America.
It was interesting, moving around. You get to examine yourself and other people in quite an analytical way. As a kid, you want to fit in – and I usually didn’t! So when you start somewhere new, you find yourself almost surveying your last performance and thinking ‘Okay, well you liked this about me but didn’t like this, so next time I’ll be more like this’. Which I think all kids do to a certain extent. I just had the chance to do it a lot. I eventually got more confident in myself and who I was. 
When you move around so much during your formative years – and again, with your job – does anywhere feel like home?
I don’t know if I consider any place home. I travelled a lot which means what you learn, and how you grow, isn’t rooted in one place. I love Dublin, but I think London was where I was really allowed to explore my creative side when I was younger. I’m not sure if I felt like I had a real place in Ireland then. I can see how people think London is a bit of a scene, where you’re in or you’re not. I always felt very welcome. In terms of my career now, Ireland has so many co-productions, so a lot of wonderful films are being made that are French and Irish or Polish and Irish. And that blending of cultures is how I grew up, so I always felt a bit out of step. I don’t anymore!
How would you describe your influences?
 I was into punk – isn’t everyone who goes through their rebellious phase? It’s that desire to distance yourself from what you feel is oppressive. By which I mean the usual stuff: parents, school, people who don’t understand you. Music and clothes became part of how I expressed myself.
You set up a fashion label when you were still in your teens. What drew you to that world?
I never defined either fashion or acting as a job. I didn’t want to ‘Get Into Fashion’. I was just doing something creative and it was very organic. It’s not like I fell into stuff. I was very driven and hard-working. But your life evolves, depending on choices you make along the way. My choices just led me to something that ended up being fashion. I had gone to art school. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do. Some people say ‘From age four, I knew I was destined to be an actor’. And it’s absolutely not the case with me. My aims are still changing now!
So fashion just grew on you!
I made a decision in my first year in art school that I wanted to explore more elements of fashion. I had bought my first crappy sewing machine when I was 14 and was making what I thought was sculpture, but on the sewing machine. I’d take old paintings and cut them up and sew them together with bits of leather so they’d stand out. Or I’d hang them three-dimensionally on the wall. That was my interpretation of fashion! I was experimenting and creating concepts. It was like theatre design almost. Everything had a back-story and was character-driven. That’s why, when I started acting, it seemed organic. It was the performance aspect of what I was already doing.
When you decided to get into acting, did people support your desire to explore this other realm of creativity?
People were like ‘Shock horror, you can’t do something different!’ I thought it was another branch of the same thing. There was a definite stumbling block for me at the time, where I had to define what I was doing. I think it was a backlash against all those Dazed and Confused photos of kids in Shoreditch where the caption would be ‘Model/Actress/Artist/Graffiti Artist/Whatever’ – and people were fed up with it. So if I said I wanted to act as well as work with fashion, the response was, ‘Ugh, you’re one of those’. Now, it’s far more accepted.
There’s a lot of pressure to look a certain way in both fashion and acting. How did you manage?
There was a huge freedom in the fact that I was unknown, naked, new, irrelevant – whatever you want to call it. There was no previous prejudice or preconceived notions of who I was. And there was a freedom in not having a foot in the door. I was coming in completely neutral. I did have to move to London to do that. I felt really honoured and delighted to be allowed to audition. I knew I was quite niche and was self-aware enough to know that I didn’t look like every other girl. I didn’t have insecurities, I didn’t look particularly vain, I was just quite accepting of who I was. So it wasn’t careerist. I just wanted to explore this new-found creative freedom, where you can use your body and mind as tools. You get to play with other people, which was lovely and new, because my work was quite solitary. I spent a lot of time on my own in fashion, and I was happy to do that. But getting to play with other people in acting was a joy.
You came to a lot of people’s attention when you got a prominent role in Lead Balloon, the BBC4 comedy show starring Jack Dee, and with your MTV comedy sketches Bluebell Welch. Did you then deliberately move away from comedy to avoid being pigeon-holed?
From the beginning I always wanted to do different things. After about three years when I started to become more well-known in comedy, the other doors started closing. When I realised they were closing, I knew I had to stop doing comedy before the more dramatic doors shut forever. It was Lead Balloon’s last season as well, so it seemed quite organic. Life can have a strange cosmic timing.
You started dating Drew McConnell from Babyshambles. The band and the scene they were involved with received a lot of attention for their party lifestyle and drug-taking. What was that experience like for you, being around that and in the public eye?
I love Drew, we’re still friends and I respect him deeply. So apart from him – and not getting into the specifics of who was doing what, just in terms of the surroundings – it was a weird time. Both with what was going on in that ‘scene’ if you like, and the attention they were getting. That made me uncomfortable. There was a documentary being made about them and I refused to be in it.
Do you think there’s a connection between these artistic personalities, and the media persona they’re given, and their desire to self-destruct through heroin?
 I don’t know, it was a weird time. Heroin had become more common, it had become like coke. Suddenly it was normal, really, it wasn’t this street drug, it was what the middle class kids that you went to school with were doing. There wasn’t that taboo around it anymore. Though obviously it was damaging. You’ve seen the pictures.
Was there any sense of people within that scene looking out for and supporting one another?
When heroin is involved, I don’t think there’s a lot of thought for anything else.
Whether in The Other Side of Sleep, the role of kidnap victim Natasha Kampusch in 3096 or your new film Kelly & Victor you seem to relish extremely demanding roles.
I am drawn to characters who have a lot going on – characters who are working through complex stuff and are on a journey – because they give me something to work with. The characters I usually pick are also at a pivotal time in their life. They’re struggling to survive something big either externally or internally. So there’s a heroic aspect to them. That appeals to me, that journey from lost to found.
They are often emotionally scarred and can be quite self-destructive. Are you drawing on anything in your own personality to help you understand the characters?
It’s important to be able to relate, but when it comes to emoting, I’ve never gone, ‘Oh I’ll relate this to a time in my life where I was sad, therefore in this scene I look sad’. I don’t really like the term ‘method’ but it is about really feeling what the character is going through and living through their experiences with them. This is where I’ve been misquoted in the past. I want to experience the emotion that they experience; it’s not me trying to emulate it, it’s trying to experience it.
In Rebecca Daly’s The Other Side of Sleep, you play such an enigmatic, withdrawn and insular character. Was that difficult for you emotionally?
 The Other Side of Sleep was unique because the character was in a constant state. She really didn’t interact with society or people at that point in her life. So in order to portray that, not just physically on screen but emotionally, it was important for me to go though that too. That was just the way I decided to approach that film, and that was an agreement I came to with the director, Rebecca Daly. That was what she wanted from her actress, also. But that film maintained a very constant mood, whereas other projects do not. Like, if you’re looking at a character over 20 years where a lot of things change and happen, you approach the material differently.
That form of method acting must be emotionally difficult for you and the people around you. How do your family and friends cope?
I’ve got two best friends who have been with me and watched me go through various processes. They do acknowledge it’s a pretty intense journey. They’re always there for me in the end! They know how important it is.
Kelly & Victor is a very intense film about a combustive relationship. There are a lot of very raw sex scenes and emotionally difficult material.
It’s funny, I was talking to the director Kieran [Evans] about it being dark and I said, ‘You know, I really didn’t find it to be so!’ We had this debate about whether Kelly and Victor are in love or in lust, and I think we experienced the relationship in different ways because the characters do. But I think it is this bubble, this magical, all-encompassing time with sparks, and is fuelled by energy and sparkle and newness.
How did you find doing the sex scenes? Not only are you naked, but there are elements of sadomasochism and very complex emotional states involved.
I love the director Kieran [Evans], he’s such a wonderful human being and there was an immediate connection. Which there needed to be with this material, because you have to feel a lot of trust in order to give it away. It was physically hard doing those sex scenes. Doing it repeatedly is physically draining. And you’re naked, which brings another level of vulnerability and can be emotionally tiring. That helps with the energy of the scene and the character. I think that time for Kelly, it’s a new exciting time. It becomes this spark of connection in an empty world, and that’s what they’re seeing.
One of the most difficult scenes in the film is when Kelly begins to carve into Victor’s back with shards of glass, ignoring his screams and repeated pleas for her to stop. If the gender roles had been reversed, it would be seen as far more controversial and terrifying.
That was the way it was written in Nick Griffith’s novel – which is far, far more graphic than the film, by the way! But yes, I think audiences probably would have had a stronger reaction had the roles been reversed. I don’t think that was a manipulation though, that’s just the characters.
As someone who’s “sex-positive”, I was worried about the portrayal of ‘kink’. The film could be seen to be showing it as something embraced only by deeply damaged people.
I think Kelly is a little bit damaged. Probably no more so than most girls walking down the street. I think for everyone, after each break-up or painful experience, you build up a little bit of a callus. Kelly masquerades as stronger than she is. Every time she feels vulnerable, there’s a protective layer that comes in. When things get emotional, I think she shuts down. And that bubble they’re in, I think she gets lost in it and gets caught in a rush of euphoria. But when she loses him because of her actions, there’s a deep sadness, because, ironically, all she wants is to connect. They want to shut down their protective instinct. Don’t we all, really?
So, for you, it wasn’t a representation of BDSM or submissive/dominant relationships?
I never played those scenes with the intent of there being a ‘performance’ from her. We actually show a scene of two characters engaging in very role-based BDSM play and she was not interested in it. There’s no element of ‘Now, I’m going to do my regular trick of whatever’, you know? People ask about the Sub/Dom aspect of the relationship and I always think these characters – or Victor anyway – wouldn’t even know those terms. They’d never apply them to their relationship. It’s not a performance for them, it’s not a role. It’s organic, it’s something they found. Every time you have a physical character with someone, it’s new. So even though we talked about Kelly having tried certain sexual acts before, with him it’s new.
You took on another hugely difficult role in 3096, where you played real life kidnap victim Natasha Kampusch, who was held in captivity by Wolfgang Priklopil from age 10 to 18. There must be a huge responsibility portraying a real person.
 I always had to remember that I wasn’t playing the story of the case or the tale of the girl who was kidnapped and then got away. I was playing the story of someone who was in a situation of living in confinement against their will. So it was about her from age 14 to 18 when she’s been in that environment for four to five years already. So I’m meeting her then, that’s where my interest in the character starts. My job was to understand where she would be at the point of her life when I’d start to play her.
What research did you do?
Quite a bit about where Natasha came from and what her life was like before the abduction. I went to Austria, I looked around her house. So I’d have an understanding of who she was as a 10-year-old. I did read her book. I didn’t focus on it too much because it was quite obviously not her voice. There were ghost writers and third parties and edits. And I had to understand what her relationship and dynamic was like with her kidnapper.
So you had to research her kidnapper really, too, to understand her mindset?
Knowing about Priklopil was important to me, because he was everything to her. We talked a lot about if we were going to speak in English, how the characters would speak, and I thought they should speak a bit alike. Because Priklopil was very interested in being well-educated and having good diction. That was very important to him. When Natasha got out, she spoke differently to how her family did. She was very well-spoken, almost formal in her speech.
You have made some controversial remarks in the past about their personal dynamic blurring the lines between rape and sex, and how she was trying to take control of their relationship.
The thing is, in terms of the role I was playing – which is my only responsibility – I’m not playing truth or not truth, I’m not playing detective, or casting judgement. I’m just playing the script, and that was my truth. So what I thought didn’t matter. We had a lot of talks to make sure we were all on the same page. In the end we were telling the story of a girl who survived. A girl who was taken when she was 10, held captive against her will. There is a relationship between them, a sexual relationship, and it wasn’t my place to say whether it was rape or not rape or consent or not consent. If you take a kid off the street at 10, you’re taking away their ability to make adult decisions and their ability to decipher, to distinguish right from wrong. There was a constant balancing act between not being ambiguous in how we feel about the case, but also portraying a girl who was trying to keep her sanity and gain some control and be free of this constant, dominant presence. So she uses the tools that she learns within that time – and from him.
I think most people would assume this was a case of Stockholm Syndrome. But Natasha Kampusch has said that people who label their complex relationship in those terms are disrespectful to her.
Of course, what attracts me is what happens between two people, and their minds and emotions and relationship and the frisson that’s between them when they’re in seclusion for that period of time. She says to him at one point, ‘Just because you keep me locked up in the basement, you can’t keep me from growing up.’ And that’s what’s important about my journey in the film. He took a little girl, and as she grew older, puberty had to happen and hormones rage – and that changes the atmosphere. You can cut it with a knife.
Natasha Kampusch has given the film her blessing. How did you find her and what was her response to your portrayal?
She was gorgeous, and amazingly supportive. She’s quite a force to behold. I suppose that’s because ever since she got out, she’s had to deal with the media and was thrown in and no-one really protected her properly. So she’s learned how to be quite brilliant at handling huge, public things. They were quite careful about showing her the film and ensuring she was happy. They were very honourable and respectful. She pointed out some things she felt weren’t true and they addressed that. Because it’s a big thing for someone to give away your story and have someone play you. But her story is completely unique to her. It’s completely her telling. That is what we work from. So it’s very much down to interpretation. She’s great about it. I was nervous meeting her because I was playing her. What if she hated it? She was so kind and complimentary and all she wanted to talk about was how wonderful the film and my performance was. And I’m looking at this girl. I know every detail of what she went through. And I am just thinking ‘Let’s not talk about me! I’m just an actor, I’m nothing!’
She has admitted that she was inconsolable when Priklopil died and now even owns the house where he kept her. Do you think she appreciated the way the film refused to paint the situation in black and white terms of good and evil?
She’s always been very brave and not gone ‘I was raped and kidnapped and abused by a very bad man’ – despite that being kind of true; always been very forceful in trying to get people to see the grey areas. It’s not black and white, not good versus evil. She is capable of feeling a form of love and affection for somebody, because they were the only person in her life. It doesn’t mean what they did wasn’t bad. To have that strength of character, to be vocal about it is quite rare. Not many kidnap victims speak up about that.
Again, you were naked for much of the shoot and received injuries shooting in cramped quarters. Your weight loss gained a lot of attention. You were photographed at an event looking startlingly skinny, and the media went crazy. Were you upset?
You do the best job you can. And the media’s harsh. What can I say? It sucked. The thing that no-one mentions is that they take hundreds of photos and will pick the ones that are at an awful angle and make you look worse than you are, and publish them. That’s why there are only two or three of those photos – they pick the ones that suit the story they’ve created. I do wish I hadn’t gone out that day, hadn’t been photographed. Because it’s such a media-heavy time. And there was a time, back in the day before Twitter and all that, people would say ‘Oh today’s headlines are tomorrow’s fish and chips wrappers’. That’s not the case anymore, those pictures and stories haunt you. It’s all a learning curve. You’ve got to keep yourself educated. To be in this industry, you have to understand how the media and the world operates. I’d prefer if I could just pretend that everything’s lovely and people aren’t mean. I’m learning it’s better to be smarter and cautious.
Even in Ireland?
I would have thought that manipulation was more prevalent in the media in the UK or the States, not here.
But I’m pretty careful about what I do, because a couple of times I did photo-shoots in Ireland and I suddenly ended up very tanned and with airbrushed cleavage. It was for a woman’s magazine or a TV magazine or something, and in order to give me extra cleavage, they airbrushed shadowing on my chest.
The joys of being a female in the public eye. Would you consider yourself a feminist?
That’s the controversial question! I’m making a film about vulvas at the moment, so it’s been a constant conversation! I think I’ve always just been against labels, and some of the connotations that can become attached to them. I believe in equality, obviously. I also believe in recognising and respecting the differences between genders, not ignoring them or pretending they don’t exist to fulfil an agenda. I don’t find that constructive.
Who or what inspires you?
So many people, millions! Seamus Heaney, of course, is at the forefront of everyone’s mind at the moment. Him aside, I’ve also been studying fashion, weirdly, after all this time because I’m developing and writing a show with [UK producer] Talkback. It’s going back to comedy, funnily enough. A darker black comedy. Kind of The Thick of It meets the behind-the-scenes of a fashion designer. Real behind the scenes stuff, no Next Top Model crap or diva strops or weird haircuts; just the labour of fashion. I’ve been revisiting all these designers who inspired me when I was younger, like Hussein Chalayan. I have much more of an understanding of how ahead of their time they were in terms of politics and feminism, and it kind of just got lost. People just saw the performance and how inventive it was. They missed the power of the bigger picture. And I’m very interested in Annemarie Clarac Schwarzenbach. I’m playing her in a film, Lonely Hunter. She was formerly a travel writer, but she was also a forefront feminist of her time.
And what other projects do you have coming up?
Apart from my show with Talkback, I’ve a few Irish films. I’m in Hinterland, and The Canal which is Irish, with director Ivan Kavanagh.
So we’re not going to be losing you to the States anytime soon?
No, I’ll always come back!

Kelly & Victor is in cinemas from September 20, and 3096 is available on DVD now