Review: In Buddy Breakup Drama ‘The Banshees Of Inisherin, Alls Farrell In Love And War
Martin McDonagh's biting and tragic new film, The Flute of Inisheri, his highest-grossing latest film, is also no small feat. Longtime fans of the Anglo-Irish writer-director's stage work will know his penchant for regionally specific titles such as The Cripple of Inishman and The Lieutenant of Inishmore, which form a closely related trilogy with this film. , not because of common characters, but because of similarity. If fate is the character in McDonagh's work, both are inextricably linked to place and landscape. Here he draws us into a lonely Irish enclave, where the air is filled with salty insults and bitter laughter, and where cruelty rises from the ground like a highly acidic water table.
This is not to say that Ireland – whether in McDonagh's direct experience or the land of his fictional imagination – has a monopoly on barbarism. This is evident in his more distant plays such as A Handling in Spokane, as well as films such as Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri and In Bruges. 2008 comedy stars Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson reunite for The Banshees of Inishreen, but this time they're not playing two killers, as they've been playing their best for a long time. He knew no home outside Inisheri. With lush greenery and fairly regular rainbows (beautifully filmed by Ben Davies), this fictional little island doesn't look too bad from our first glance.
We will know more at the end of the movie. The year is 1923 and the Irish Civil War rages on in the distance, creating a stark but vaguely thematic setting for this more intimate story of men in conflict. Inishery's beauty soon turns sour and caustic, as does the once harmonious friendship between the mild-mannered milkman Padraic Swillevine (Farrell) and the tough, sharp-eyed violinist Colm Doherty (Gleeson). In the opening scene, Padraic goes to meet Colm for a regular afternoon beer, only to find the man at home with his back to the window, ignoring Padraic's knocks and pleas. Can a man frown not only with his face, but with his whole body? Anyway, Gleason is in charge.
Confused by this silent treatment, Padraic is unfazed – surely it's some sort of joke or misunderstanding – and refuses to accept that the friendship is over, even after Colm explains to him in the bar. i don't love you anymore After a pause that seems like an eternity, Padraic, played perfectly by Pharrell with a mixture of confusion, disbelief and sadness: "You love me ! And the funny thing is, he's right Colm's sudden decision comes not from a lack of love, but from a lack of time: Desperate and newly aware of his impending death, he wants to spend his days playing and composing, the only thing give him any semblance of comfort . . . or meaning He wants to drink his last pint in peace, away from Padraic's incessant whining.
Incessant wailing is, of course, a snarky but essentially accurate way of describing McDonagh's own delightful dialogue, which uses staccato beats and deliberate repetition of words to create a back-and-forth melody as incessantly as Carter Burwell's beautiful score . Apart from "fake", a favorite insult in this early twentieth-century Irish milieu, the four-letter words most frequently used in the script are "stub" and "kindness", two words often thrown at Padraic. Good-natured and easy-going, Padraic gets along with almost all the animals in his devoted care, from his intelligent sister Siobhan (the absolutely gorgeous Carrie Condon). (None of the latter is more popular than Jenny the mini-donkey, a key member of the film's fantastic four-legged ensemble.)
Pen's rejection of Padraic is also in a way a rejection of the tyranny of Mars, and an acknowledgment of the sublime - in the form of a Mozart symphony or the humblest piece he tries to compose for the violin. Greater value. All of this opens up a rich and intense conversation about McDonagh, who likes to blur the lines between humanism and nihilism, and perhaps comes as close to greatness as ever on Inisheri's flute. A measure of the film's skill and generosity is its embrace of the wisdom of its two protagonists. You will share Colm's frustration and defend his right to live with music and an immortal spirit, but you will also agree with Padraic's argument that kindness and friendship leave their own invisible legacy, albeit often unseen.
Muddying the Waters Furthermore: Despite strictly enforcing his boundaries (including threatening to harm himself if Padraic doesn't leave him alone), Colm still finds a way to treat his unfortunate former friend with decency and compassion. Meanwhile, for all its subtlety, Padric's growing aggression towards the pen takes on a sinister tone, fueled by whiskey, frustration and anger. Watching these two characters rage against each other is like a whole new understanding of what happens when an overwhelming force meets an immovable object. And finally, no one understands this dynamic better than Siobhan, Padraic's loyal and loving sister and the only person in Inishery who could not be more divided in her sympathies than Colm's intellectual match.
Siobhan's involvement – and her highly personal decision-making – opens up another dilemma. While the film focuses on the conflict between two equally determined people, the film is also about the tension between a small, isolated community and the wider world that lies beyond its cloudy horizon. Teased by the counties for being single and literal, Siobhan contemplates her possible escape. And who can blame him? Like much of McDonagh's earlier work, Inisheri's Banshees uses physical distance to depict an entire human world of greed, evil and self-deception, including a talking shopkeeper (Brid Nichten), a physical, abusive policeman. (Gary Lydon), a witch (Sheila Fleeton) and on the friendly side, a village idiot called Dominic (Barry Keoghan).
Except for perennial troublemaker Dominic, whom Keoghan imbues with intelligence, playfulness and unexpected pathos, none of these secondary characters reveal more than a dimension or two. While "Inisher's Banshees" is a significant improvement over the rather uneven "Three Billboards," it still doesn't completely escape the idiosyncratic and ugly aspects of McDonagh's writing, such as his tendency to overplay certain characters. One-note personalities or make them the subject of terribly comical (and sometimes cosmic) punchlines. They are the playthings of a god who wields a dreamy, even arbitrary hand in punishment, and whom some of his ordinary followers—perhaps the bored priest assigned to resolve the central conflict (David Pearce)—end up really believing or trust. They believe.
So Colm was rightly disappointed. Which is not wrong in Padraek's mind that there are salves for life's ills, and that he may actually be one of them. Farrell's performance, one of his best ever, is a balm in itself, one of simplicity and subtle sophistication, striking comic beats and emotional chords with equal touch. Never bossy or cruel, at the end of the film he shows us a man who is not the same, who has experienced more loss, anger and sadness than he realizes. He can really count on the ground beneath his feet — and in that regard, McDonagh says, he may be less alone than he thinks.
This story originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times.