IN the beginning, a beautiful, green and serene isle called "Inisherin". Translated from Gaelic to English, the name means "The island of Ireland". An isolated island. An isolated people. They, and their ancestors before them, lived together, then and now. One big family. Across the blue sea, from the distant horizon, the sound of blazing guns and exploding bombs. Carried down to Inisherin by cold winds. And in the centre of it all, the relationship between Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell) and Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson); a pair so close, they're more of non-identical twin brothers than friends.
My crash course in Irish humor was delivered by the legendary Irish teacher, Frank McCourt, via his classic novel, Angela's Ashes, and then 'Tis. Where, through sheer self-deprecation and wicked sarcasm, grave events like the British occupation of Ireland, The Great Famine and the Irish War Of Independence, became colourful backgrounds for the most tragi-comic narratives. I'm yet to see the adaptation of Angela's Ashes though, but I hear it's good.
I watched The Banshees of Inisherin in those hectic last days of 2022. Days that ghosted by, leaving echoes of seasons greetings and songs. January came and quickly settled in, with the feeling like the holiday had slipped through my fingers. Including my initial thoughts on this film. But three awards at the just concluded Golden Globes brought things back into perspective. Better late than never.
Much has been said about The Banshees of Inisherin in its depiction of the deteriorating relationship between two middle-aged men, as well as the painterly quality of its photography. However, the picture adds one more nuanced aspect, probably the most important and overlooked, to its storytelling dimensions — the personification of Ireland and its different characters through the Irish Civil War. This quality, though, is ironically relegated to the background amidst the amusing, and unhinged quarrel between Pádraic and Colm, the exasperation of Siobhan (Kerry Condon), and the antics of unruly Dominic (Barry Keoghan). Inisherin is just as much a character in this film as the personalities, and together, are a microcosm of Ireland in the early 1920s.
The year is 1923. Ireland, a country of brothers is divided into two. A bitter civil conflict. The predominantly Catholic, Irish Revolutionary Army had forced Protestant Britain and it's Northern Irish allies to the negotiating table in the War of Independence. A treaty was signed, granting Ireland self-governing status as a free State. Unlike Scotland or Wales, Ireland was to become a dominion of the British Commonwealth, in the style of Australia, South Africa, and the like. But no sooner had the political leaders signed the treaty than the Irish people began to fight each other. Men who had fought together for Independence, now bitter enemies. Why?
They wanted independence and had won it. So what was the quarrel about? It seemed to border on the semantics of Independence. An intellectual detail, if you will. And as each side fought and took pettiness to more bloody levels, people living in the distant country and islands remained confused as to the source of the conflict. Watching The Banshees of Inisherin with this context in mind, it becomes clearer what Martin McDonagh, the director, is trying to do.
The Banshees of Inisherin isn't just about the eccentric behavioural patterns of isolated Irish folk. It mirrors a deeper story steeped in reality, while employing elements of comedy and fantasy. And like in In Bruges, the director gets at the tragic via the comic.
One fine day on this mythical Irish isle, Pádraic begins the day with his usual ritual. A stroll to the homestead of his friend, Colm Sonny Larry, wherein both friends would spend hours talking about mundane stuff: the weather, the contents of animal faeces, etc. However, something strange disrupts the ritual. Colm does not answer the door when his friend knocks. Pádraic thinks Colm isn't at home, but when he looks through the window, Colm is sitting inside, refusing to open the door. Windows play a symbolic role in this film, their characters either look out through the window to see the world framed outside, or they look in through the window, to see the world framed within.
When Pádraic returns home and reports the incident to his sister, Siobhan, her reply is hilariously prescient: "maybe he just doesn't like you anymore."
"I just don't like you anymore." Colm declares. Pádraic is dismayed. When asked by Siobhan to explain, Colm says Pádraic is boring. "You're all fecking boring," is her caustic reply. Siobhan later escapes from Inisherin. "Escaped" because she may symbolize the émigré Irishman. The one who got away. Also, she's the sanest of the lot.
What is really clever about The Banshees of Inisherin is how it coaxed me into picking a side. I vacillated between, "who the feck does Colm think he is?", and "just leave him alone Pádraic, friendship is not by force."
As the film progresses, the mood is one of amusement. Just as the people of Inisherin predict that the Civil War will soon end, Colm and Pádraic are expected to make amends sooner or later. Until fingers start coming off. Pádraic, who considers himself a "nice guy", becomes filled with pettiness and vengeance. In one confrontation between the two at the pub, Mozart and Beethoven take stray bullets. And when Colm begins his reply with “Yet…”, Pádraic fires back, “"Yet"", he says, like he’s English”, sending me into fits of laughter. Their rowing is a microcosm of the Civil War, which grew more bitter as time went by.
Now, there are no banshees in Inisherin, but there's a personification in Mrs Cormick (Sheila Filton). A nosey old woman who predicts death in the very near future. Banshees are mythical female spirits of ancient Irish folklore who herald the arrival of death. When death comes however, its victim completely takes me by surprise. The body found in the river belongs to Dominic, an unfortunate, and unintended casualty of Inisherin's civil war between Pádraic and Colm. "I'm against civil wars. Wars and soap," Dominic had observed before his death. With this, McDonagh mirrors the tragic consequences of the Irish Civil War on the innocent citizenry. As a matter of fact, more civilians died as a result of The Troubles between Ireland and Northern Ireland than combatants.
The ending of The Banshees of Inisherin evokes thoughts of a sequel. Because, like the real conflict in the background, Pádraic and Colm's war ends inconclusively. Is there peace? Colm has just escaped from being burned to death by Pádraic (who himself rescued Colm's pet dog from the hungry flames). He offers a truce but Pádraic doesn’t accept it. Though a sequel is highly unlikely, this is an interesting final allusion.
In 1923, after the Irish Civil War officially ended, hostilities continued unofficially, costing more lives. This is what provides The Banshees of Inisherin — a comedy, — with its tragic backbone. Feud between friends, family members, as well as love lost, coalesce to crack the peaceful fabric of community. As Pádraic and Colm separate for the last time, Mrs Cormick, a cinematic equivalent of Death in Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, watches ominously, like a banshee foretelling doom.
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