The Banshees of Inisherin
Martin McDonagh’s bitter tragicomedy is a masterful work exploring a very Irish sensibility.
Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell
Not always, but often, a film’s title will provide a clue to its content. Anybody seeking out a movie called The Banshees of Inisherin is unlikely to be expecting run-of-the-mill fare. The names of Martin McDonagh’s first two feature films proved self-explanatory: In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths, although his third, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, less so. McDonagh, who started out as a prolific and successful playwright, now finds himself in a position to dictate the originality of his work – and to recruit the stars to give it life. Here he reunites Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson from In Bruges, as best friends on the remote Irish island of Inisherin, in 1923. Here, the title actually refers to a piece of music written by Gleeson’s fiddle player Colm Doherty, which also happens to be composed by Gleeson himself.
So, what if, one day, your best friend decided never to speak to you again? It’s a simple enough premise, albeit a provocative one. In this day and age, such a slight may not carry as much weight than if you lived on a sparsely populated island without access to social media. Pádraic Súilleabháin (Farrell) shares a room with his sister Siobhán (Kerry Condon), and his humble abode with a miniature donkey, Jenny, and lives a pretty pared-down existence (church on Sundays, the pub at 2 o’clock). So when his best mate adamantly refuses to share a chinwag and a Guinness with him, it is a very big deal. Patently aware of the passing of the years, Colm resolves not to waste another day chatting about the contents of a “pony’s shite”. Pádraic may be a nice man, but in Colm’s opinion he is a limited individual, and Colm would rather be remembered for writing a piece of music (like the eponymous piece) than for “good, normal chatting.”
For much of its running time, The Banshees of Inisherin feels like a return to McDonagh’s theatrical roots, an intimate, character-driven parable ripe for intellectual dissection. A trim, black-haired Colin Farrell is pitch-perfect as the baffled dullard battling with his new set of circumstances, while Brendan Gleeson fills the screen with his characteristic gravitas. There’s also excellent support from Kerry Condon as Siobhán, a woman wise to the ways of the world, and from Barry Keoghan as the local simpleton, who’s not quite as stupid as people think. Martin McDonagh is a magnificent wordsmith and knows how to illuminate his characters with the simplest line of dialogue, while imbuing his work with a cinematic command of the landscape and soundtrack. Anybody familiar with the director’s films will not be taken aback by the jet-black sensibility here, a dynamic in which humour can slip into very dark waters without warning. It’s a masterful and fiercely original piece, true to its roots and Irish sensibility. If at times it feels a tad self-indulgent and protracted – not to mention unremittingly bleak – it casts a distinctive spell that is hard to shake off.
JAMES CAMERON-WILSON
Cast: Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon, Barry Keoghan, Gary Lydon, Pat Shortt, Sheila Flitton, Bríd Ní Neachtain, Aaron Monaghan, David Pearse.
Dir Martin McDonagh, Pro Graham Broadbent, Peter Czernin and Martin McDonagh, Screenplay Martin McDonagh, Ph Ben Davis, Pro Des Mark Tildesley, Ed Mikkel E. G. Nielsen, Music Carter Burwell, Costumes Eimer Ni Mhaoldomhnaigh.
Film4 Productions/Blueprint Pictures/TSG Entertainment-Searchlight Pictures.
114 mins. Ireland/UK/USA. 2022. UK and US Rel: 21 October 2022. Cert. 15.
