The Banshees of Inisherin

In a return to his roots, renowned British-Irish playwright and filmmaker Martin McDonagh does wonders in The Banshees of Inisherin. Marking his first film in the U.K. with an original script conceived for Ireland, McDonagh once again takes on some deep themes of existentialism and mortality. The sharply scripted and superbly acted film is a highlight of the year, and the film will inevitably be an Oscar contender for numerous categories, including Picture, Lead Performance, Best Director, Best Supporting Performance, and certainly for Best Original Screenplay. More or less, this film will be a word-of-mouth box-office success that will be in the theaters in the next few months.

Although the script unravels with wry humor, there is an undercurrent of a serious tone underlined by Irish fables and folklore and allegories to the conflicts between Northern Ireland and Ireland, which conflict dates back all the way to the 1920s, where McDonagh’s latest feature takes place. There are even some references to Ingmar Bergman, specifically The Seventh Seal. In terms of themes, The Banshees of Inishman, the title of which becomes the name of a song composed in the film, ends up taking some deeply compelling themes on conflict, depression, loneliness, and finding purpose with one’s limited time on Earth as death is just one day closer for us all.

The film’s first half marvels with sharp dialogue and plays out like an offbeat buddy movie. With the drama set squarely among Ireland’s coastal villages that consist mainly of farmers, peasants, and villagers, the tale has the lead character, Pádraic Silleabháin (Colin Farrell), a farmer who has a small herd of cattle and has a close attachment to his donkey. He resides with his sister Siobhán (Kerry Condon), who keeps the house tidy and prepares soup and porridge while Pádraic does the farming.

Padraic has a routine. He always goes to his longtime friend, Colm Dohery (Brendan Gleeson), and they ride together to the local pub together for some tap beer, and they have long, drawn-out conversations about Padraic’s dull existence, which just consists of farming chores and taking care of his horse and donkeys. Colm has a passion for music; he is aiming to master the fiddle and write and compose his own songs that he hopes will live on. Eventually, Colm and Padriac grow apart. After Colm doesn’t come to the door, Padriac goes to the pub and instantly senses a disconnect. Colm informs Padraic that they’re no longer friends. He explains that Padraic didn’t offend him; it’s just that he finds Padraic’s company to be dull and a waste of his time. He would much rather spend his time practicing music and would prefer to spend his time alone or with other select individuals that he finds more interesting.

Padraic is too baffled and bull-headed to accept Colm’s plight, even after Colm claims he will start cutting off his own fingers, one at a time, for every time Padraic tries to intrude into his life. The set-up for a zany dark comedy is all there. McDonagh, who has had an impressive career of creating dark comedies with lurid characters, in films like In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths, and Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, once again carries on his tradition of crafting films with dark humor merged with humanism and sudden bursts of violence. It’s a pledge that nobody on the island thinks Colm will actually do. However, once the bizarre proposition occurs, McDonagh amps up the rivalry and takes the characters into an abyss of brooding absurdity. Yet there is delicateness, pathos, and sharp character depth that build a realm of irony and transcendence within the macabre rivalry.

The more macabre the film gets, the more McDonagh carries on the comedic momentum as well. Both men really can’t resist each other’s friendship. They find themselves encountering each other on the small island, whether on the path walking into town or at the pub. However, each time Padriac thinks he can regain the friendship with Colm again, it’s eventually rejected as Colm makes it clear that he wants his own free time. Padriac eventually gets the hint and, for a short period, grants Padriac his wishes. Many people in the town, including Siobhán, believe Colm could be depressed. Padriac ends up building up another friendship with Dominic (Barry Keoghan-A reunion for Farrel and Keoghan from The Killing of a Sacred Deer), the awkward son of the local police captain, ends up generating tension with the new friendship after he inappropriately flirts with Siobhán after being a dinner guest. It’s a story where everyone is feeling some isolation on the island, and everyone deals with their own depression and loneliness in different ways. Even the animals in the film can sense that the humans are lonely, as Padriac’s beloved donkey always bursts into the house looking for company for both Padriac and Siobhán. Colm has a dog that he even slow dances with in between his downtime of drinking beers and practicing the mandolin.

McDonagh dives deep into Padraic’s and Colm’s rivalry and how their stubbornness stems from their fragile egos. For Colm, he really does want a legacy and believes his music will eventually live on. For Padriac, his persistence in sustaining their doomed friendship ends up taking a toll on the close people within his circle. Siobhan holds onto reason and wisdom through all the chaos. What’s transcendent about this character is that she isn’t reduced to a caregiver of being the female caregiver that is going to heal everyone’s conflict. She has her own loneliness and hopes of finding a career on the mainland if given the opportunity. Meanwhile, Dominic is also persistent with her as he’s also very lonely and confesses his feelings towards her in hopes that she will agree to go on a date with him.  It’s a very sincere scene that pulls Keoghan from a one-dimensional character that recalls the works of Alexander Payne, where McDonagh also proves that character depth does matter, even for supporting. It’s a very tender scene because Siobhan has other plans than just marrying a man on an island with very few opportunities. She ends up being proactive in combating the loneliness, where she not only lectures Colm after he claims Padriac is boring, but she also exclaims, “All of you men are boring!”. The isolation and conflict further motivate her to embark on opportunities off the island.

Colm and Padriac, however, are a lost cause as they continue to suffocate their loneliness even more as they drift further and further apart. At the setting of the film, which takes place in 1923, we hear the turmoil of the Irish Civil War raging on across the sea, McDonagh uses this as a subtext of how senseless conflict always hangs over in society due to how self-serving it is, which becomes a reflection of the rivalry between Colm and Padriac. One of the most compelling characters in the film is Mrs. McCormick (Shela Flintton), an elderly woman who wonders on the island as if she is Death from Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. She is a spectator that adds to the fable like ether to the film and the themes become clearer in how men will destroy each other all in self-serving ego before reaching compromise or diplomacy that would be better suited for society as a whole.

On a visual and technical level, this is certainly McDonagh’s most polished and visually pleasing film. All in all, thanks to the striking landscape cinematography and meticulous compositions by cinematographer Ben Davis, the use of actual locales on the Aran Islands in Galway Bay is certainly ravishing. Cast-wise, the film is first-rate. Colin Farrel continues his streak and positions himself into front-runner status for Best Lead Actor (I still need to see Brendan Fraser in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale). Farrel is able to pull off a first-rate performance with the help of great onscreen chemistry with Gleason as well, who also matches his banter and onscreen charisma where they are both genuine and equally repugnant. Kerry Condon, who combines elements of strong independence, self-doubt, and insecurities, and who stands her ground from her male counterparts, is a great revelation here, an indelible portrait of a fully fleshed supporting character. Other small supporting and eccentric performances stand out as well, including Flitton, Gary Lydon, and David Pearse as the priest, who holds some hysterical exchanges in the confessional with Gleason.

All around, The Banshees of Inisherin is a darkly funny character thriller. It’s filled with sharp writing, memorable characters, rich themes, and every moment is nothing short of involving. McDonagh has certainly done it again in his most resonant film to date. While there is an effortless wittiness to the film, that will eventually deceive many because the film takes some bleak turns. It might appear to be austere as the film progresses with some dark twists and turns, but it finds its catharsis with its earned pathos and genuine performances. McDonagh has certainly pulled off another deeply philosophical punch of a film that will certainly be championed in years to come.