The Banshees of Inisherin

It's been a decade and a half since the much-lauded London-born Irish playwright Martin McDonagh (The Pillowman, The Beauty Queen of Leenane, The Lieutenant of Inishmore) took a break from piling up bodies on West End and Broadway stages and turned his hand to his first feature film. The 2008 darkly hilarious, Christmas-set, hitman buddy comedy In Bruges is notable for many reasons, but most significantly for its inspired pairing of a crusty Brendan Gleeson with a boyish Colin Farrell. Fourteen years and several Tonys, BAFFTAs, and Academy Awards later, McDonagh reunites these two leading men for a very different kind of violence-tinged black comedy.

The Banshees of Inisherin is set on a small, fictional island off the West Coast of Ireland in 1923. Gleeson plays a musician and composer named Colm who one day decides he no longer has room in his life for his long-time pal Pádraic, played by Farrell. Pádraic, who’s always fancied himself "a happy lad" that no one could dislike, is stunned and confused by this turn of events. The tension between these two escalates, and the shifts in feelings between them, and the resulting actions, constitute the entirety of the picture. Though the story is set against the backdrop of the Irish Civil War, the growing hostilities between the two former friends doesn't seem intended as some kind of heavy allegory for how wars begin. The movie doesn't feel like a cinematic metaphor for something larger or more important than the breakdown of a relationship between two old mates. Yet the simplicity of the narrative is precisely what makes the film so fascinating. We are left to ponder the emotional, aspirational, and spiritual natures of these two distinctly Irish fellows, and the film plays like a parable that touches not only on why men start wars but on most of the big existential aspects of the human condition.

Farrell and Gleeson have never been better, which is really saying something. The Banshees of Inisherin captures everything distinctive about each actor's screen persona and the special chemistry they have when paired on screen together. Gleeson, the older, gruffer, and wiser of the two, is the one with an artistic soul whose ability to appreciate the complexities of life brings with it a deep sense of melancholy—especially as he is now past his prime. Farrell is the younger, more simple and sincere individual; a happy-go-lucky guy whose contentment in the everyday rituals of life makes unfathomable the sadness and longings of his best friend—and, for that matter, the emotions and motivations of his sister Siobhán and the other inhabitants of the island. Aside from Colm and Siobhán, Pádraic’s closest friends are the animals on his farm. As comical as these two character types are, they come across as authentic, with their most humorous utterings also being their most honest. And in this particular picture, the honesty of each man can take on a brutal quality—the sort that is normally softened by societal considerations. At the heart of the story is the question of whether to live as one’s truest self or to moderate one’s opinions, desires, and needs in order to not alienate those around you. Each scene gives us a tiny bit more insight into this question and into the perspectives of the two men, causing our sympathies and allegiances to swing back and forth.

McDunnah’s prior films have been busy; crowded with exciting violence and crackling dialogue in the case of In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths, and crowded with memorable characters and issues of the day in the case of Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. Here, his small ensemble, deliberate pacing, and widescreen compositions leave plenty of space and time for the viewer to take everything in. (McDonagh is no great visualist, but in this movie, the two-shots of people with the vast, scenic landscape between them do all that work for him.)  These sparse qualities allow the film’s themes to play about in our minds. These themes, of ageing, isolation, masculine expectations, cultural conflict, and longing for meaning in life, are timeless and universal.  

While Farrell and Gleeson carry the picture, the supporting cast also delights, especially Kerry Condon playing Pádraic’s sister. These beautifully realized characters feel just as authentic and multi-dimensional as the leads, even though they are quite similar to types you might find in any of the twee Irish and British comedies that flooded cinema screens in the 1990s (Waking Ned Devine, The Van, The Englishman Who Went up a Hill but Came down a Mountain, etc.). In The Banshees of Inisherin, we meet and recognize the cheery pub owner who tells it like it is, the village busybody who harshly judges everyone else's business, and a hapless priest who wants to bring comfort to his parishioners but often has little patience for their eccentricities. So, too, we encounter a brutal policeman drunk on his own power, and his troubled son, the village idiot longing for companionship, as there seem to be no others his age on the island. There's even an old crone who we might assume is the titular character. But once the title is uttered, we slowly start to ponder its meaning and ruminate on our own feelings of loss, loneliness, and longing. In typical McDonagh style, this movie about sadness and existential grief is laugh-out-loud funny, reminding us that often the most revealing truths in life are found in humor.