The Banshees of Inisherin review
London Film Festival 2022
While the pains of romantic heartbreak often take centre stage in film, in The Banshees of Inisherin, Martin McDonough reminds us that the splintering of friendship is just as devastating and tumultuous. Through a masterful tonal balance between comedy and tragedy, McDonough throws the audience between emotional extremes and in doing so cuts to the raw heart of male friendship and the darkest depths of mental health in turmoil.
Reunited with In Bruges co-stars Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, it is among the stunning Irish landscapes of the fictional island of Inisherin that McDonough introduces Farrell’s Padraic, hilariously dim-looking with his ridiculously bushy, dopy eyebrows. As he sets out for his daily 2pm pint, he stops by the cottage of his long time pub pal, Colm (Gleeson), unexpectedly finding it empty. Fearing that they might be rowing, Padraic finds that instead Colm has abruptly decided that “I just don’t like you no more.” So begins Padraic’s tireless attempts to make amends, with ever-more frustrated responses from Colm.
Warmth and humour radiates from Farrell’s performance but darkness remains shifting beneath the surface, a juxtaposition which is externalised in the idyllic green Irish fields and the distant firing of cannons from the civil war on the mainland. The gore and anger in Colm’s later actions creep up on the audience as much as they do on the unassuming Padraic and, in their extremity, lay bare an ugly inner darkness that we usually push out of sight.
But within the shocking violence is a raw emotional truth, with Colm’s pent up “despair” (which we hear of in his confessions) almost tangible in the film’s fallout. Colm reveals that it is his fear of having failed to make an impression in the world before his death that is driving his distance from Padraic. This poignant sentiment tinges the film with a gentle sadness and a resonant shadowy threat of death (personified through the black-hooded Mrs McCormack).
The film is not just a two-hander: the insular island community is inhabited by a plethora of witty characters, whose nosiness heightens the tension (rumour spreads fast) and whose wit aids the comedy.
Particularly impressive is Barry Keogen, who here yet again proves his enormous range. Killing of a Sacred Deer saw him play a psychopathic killer; Dunkirk an endearing young boy who dreams of valiant soldiers; and now he is the hilarious island idiot, Dominic. His nativity and childlike nature is, I feel, instrumental to lifting the film, providing a light playfulness to counter the darker moments.
More tragic, though, is Padraic’s dismissal of Dominic as the dimmest tool on Inisherin, an assessment which is ultimately fatally misjudged - after all, he’s the only one able to observe the futility of Colm’s ultimatum (“what is he, twelve?”). In this belittling attitude to Dominic, McDonough reveals a tragic perpetuation of mistreatment, and the human tendency -particularly in insular societies- to force oppressive judgements onto others as a means of externalising and deflecting our own insecurities.
Farrell joked on The Graham Norton Show this week that his character is happy for approximately 30 seconds of the film, while Gleeson retorted that “at least you had 30 seconds” - this pretty much encapsulates McDonough’s setup, masterfully exploring dark themes of male turmoil and heart-breaking dissolution of friendship through the guise of astute comedy.
In cinemas from the 21st of October. Cert 15.