Tag: THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN

The brilliant THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN reunites IN BRUGES co-stars Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson with Martin McDonagh for the writer/playwright/director’s dark comedy about a long friendship coming apart on a tiny Irish island in shocking fashion. But in this film, the comedy is darker and with a looming threat of violence, putting it more in the vein of one of playwright McDonagh’s plays like “The Hangmen” or “The Pillowman.” If you have been lucky enough to see any of his plays on stage, you know his signature combination of dark humor with undercurrents of violence, packed with biting witty dialog and thought-provoking subject matter, usually with a distinctly Irish accent.

Like a lot of the writer/playwright/director’s work, THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN is both darkly funny, tragic, a bit violent and more than a bit mad, yet with a deep humanity beneath it all. The film is suffused with stunning photography of the natural world and set in 1923 with the Irish Civil War in the background on the distant mainland. It also is a film bursting with remarkable acting performances, particularly from Colin Farrell. THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN is a reminder of just how very good an actor Colin Farrell truly is.

On the fictional Irish island of Inisherin, a place filled with natural beauty off the western coast of Ireland, a pair of long-time friends – Padraic Suilleabhain (Colin Farrell), a young farmer everyone calls “nice” and Colm Doherty, an older fiddle player, composer and artistic soul – have the habit of going to the island’s only pub every day at 2 p.m., for pints and conversation. One day, Padraic calls on Colm promptly at 2 p.m. as usual for their walk to the pub but Colm refuses to answer the door, or even respond when Padraic speaks to him through the window. Puzzled, Padraic tells his friend he’ll meet him at the pub and heads over. At the pub, Padraic shares his friend’s strange behavior with the pub owner Jonjo (Pat Shortt). “Are you rowing?” the publican asks. “I didn’t think we were rowing,” Padraic replies. Padraic leaves the pub briefly, and returns to find Colm there. But Colm avoids him, even telling him not to sit by him.

“Are we rowing? I didn’t think we were rowing,” the confused Padraic says repeatedly, wondering if they had quarreled in some argument he had forgotten, turning the question over in his head, over and over. Everyone seems to ask the same thing, and Padraic always replies “I didn’t think we were rowing.” It sets up a comic riff but while the effect is humorous, Padraic is becoming increasingly upset by his friend’s mysterious behavior. Finally confronting Colm, Colm tells him that he no longer wants to be friends and forbids the younger man to speak to him. Eventually, it comes out that the older Colm, pondering that his life is running out and contemplating his legacy, decided he needs to spend more of it on his music, composition and teaching younger musicians, and not wasting time with Padraic.

Stunned, Padraic can’t quite wrap his head around this and keeps thinking there is something he can do to restore their friendship, until Colm makes a shocking threat of violence if Padraic doesn’t leave him alone, The threat is so absurd that all the other characters wonder aloud if it is real. However, those who familiar with McDonagh’s stage work know that such mentions of violence are rarely idle.

This is a story of a break-up, of a friendship rather than a romance, but a break-up nonetheless. These two are not “frenemies” but true friends – or were until one day when one of them decides they are not. That leaves the other one having a hard time as he struggles to accept, even comprehend, a decision he played no role in, and deciding what he, the friend left behind, must do.

McDonagh doesn’t take sides here, and individuals might sympathize more with one man or the other, but the film spends more time with Colin Farrell’s Padraic, as he is the one who had to come to grips with what to do next. On the surface, Colm and Padraic don’t seem to have much in common, although they have been friends a long time.

Padraic is a young farmer, raising cows and selling the milk, and someone known for his easy-going, likable manner and for being “nice.” The older Colm is a fiddle player and composer, a more complicated man with other artistic interests, someone given to deep thought and reading with an interest in history and literature. Colm lives alone, Padraic with his sister Siobhan (Kerry Condon), the other island’s devoted reader, who dotes on and cares for her younger brother. Colm has a border collie as a pet, Padraic has a miniature donkey. The animals play a role in the unexpected events that unfold.

It’s an island, and eventually it seems everyone is involved in the split in some way, or at least those who come in regular contact with either Colm or Padraic.

The sharply satiric dialog and story’s comedic beats always delight but the acting is so sparkling, so deep, that is a constant joy throughout. Each actor gets the very most out of every scene, whether alone or ensemble. Colin Farrell expresses volumes with the twitch of a bushy eyebrow or the shift of his posture, continually breaking our hearts with his pain and frustrating us with his mistakes. Brendan Gleeson is outstanding as always, conveying his different kind of pain, a man brooding over his legacy and finding time fleeting, embroiled in a distracting situation he somehow didn’t anticipate.

However praise must go to the actors in supporting roles as well. Barry Keoghan continues to turn in striking character performances, here playing a young man, Dominic Kearney, who is both an irritating pest and a heartbreaking portrait of loneliness. Kerry Condon is wonderful as Padraic’s sister Siobhan, often the voice of reason cutting through the island’s inward looking nonsense, as well as warm sympathetic ear for her confused, well-meaning brother. Other little, more comic roles break the tension, notably Pat Shortt as the publican Jonjo and David Pearse as the priest, who has a sidesplitting exchange with Brendan Gleeson in the confessional. Gary Lydon adds a chilling note as Peadar Kearney, the island’s brutal, cold-hearted local cop and Dominic’s abusive single father, as does Sheila Flitton as Mrs. McCormick, a creeping, creepy older woman in black whose smile and mysterious mutterings might evoke thoughts of Macbeth’s “weird sisters.”

The film opens with Director of Photography Ben Davis’ gorgeous shots of the natural world, showing the breath-taking beauty of the place and often featuring animals, wild and domesticated, in that peaceful-looking landscape. The film was shot on Inishmore and Achill Island on the west coast of Ireland, although the island where the story takes place is fictional. A spot-on perfect musical score by Carter Burwell completes the picture. We get a sense that these few people on the island are living in a place of beauty and magic, but gradually we realize that they are so consumed by their own petty personal troubles, they hardly see it.

The story is set in spring of 1923, and the Irish Civil War is raging. But the war is unfolding on the mainland, and on the island, they only hear the sounds of the guns and distant explosions. The islanders are aware of it but they are apart from it, although it might linger at the back of our minds.

There is something particularly resonant about setting this tale in Ireland in 1923, on an isolated island, during the Irish Civil Wars. The civil war creates its own madness, the closed community of the island (in pre-mass media 1923) creates its own pressure cooker, and whatever existential crisis is troubling Colm adds to the simmering pot.

As wars often do, the conflict between Colm and Padraic starts over something small but hurtful, that then escalates. Their “war” is a reminder that wars often start over something small but that absolutes, all-or-nothing decisions or ultimatums, have consequences. In this personal conflict, it is a reminder that putting ones’ work above people or doing something for selfishness reasons can have consequences too, or even lead to unintended results. The director seems to be questioning whether absolutes are the best human choice, if compromise or setting boundaries might work better, by illustrating how things get out of hand, even little things, until conflict, or even war, is inescapable.

And the banshees? We never see or hear supernatural spirits wailing in the night, although they do come up in conversation at one point. But it is hard to say there are not mad banshees howling here.

There is a lot of food for thought to mull over in this meaty film, although some viewers may be so shocked by the film’s end that those thoughts may have to wait a bit, as is often the case with McDonagh’s plays. But there are things here about humanity that are worth revisiting. THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN is a brilliantly acted and directed film that indirectly and subtly draws larger human lessons by following the break-up of a friendship. It is an impressive piece of cinema on all levels – visually, performance, acting, story-telling – with the addition of offering deeply-considered thoughts on other human conflicts, which is as worthwhile a topic as one can find at this moment in history.

THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN opens Friday, Nov. 4, in theaters.

RATING: 4 out of 4 stars