In the fictional Irish island of Inisherin, two best friends spend their afternoons drinking a few pints of Guinness at the only pub in town, which very might be the only recreational activity the townsfolk have in their isolated cliffside village. It’s a shared ritual between the two friends, one that’s as consistent as the rising of the sun, until one day one of them decides to break off their friendship out of the blue.
The film begins with Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell) on his way to the seaside home of Colm Doherty (Brendan Gleeson) to fetch him for their two o’clock tradition, only to find whom he thought was his best friend ignoring his calls. At the pub, Pádraic demands an answer as to why he’s doing this, to which Colm replies, “I just don’t like you no more.” He admits that he finds Pádraic just a bit too dull, and believes he has much better things to do with his time than keep having inane chats about the things Pádraic finds in his pet donkey’s feces. Colm is convinced that his time in the world is limited, so he’s decided to compose a fiddle tune which will be his life’s legacy, to be played and remembered long after he’s gone.
Pádraic is the younger and simpler type of the two, perfectly happy to be confined in his daily routine of being a dairy farmer, something that Colm is unable to comprehend. How can one be fully content with living like that for the rest of their lives? So when he gets abruptly cut from Colm’s circle, he is left bewildered, and then rightfully upset. And to take things even further, Colm threatens to sever one of his fingers for every time Pádraic bothers him (which would prevent him from writing music). In other words, losing the ability to play his violin is more acceptable than spending another minute of Pádraic’s company. Things only escalate from here on, and it’s at this point onward that the film’s seemingly straighforward premise reveals its nuisances about the themes of masculinity, loneliness, and existential crisis.
The Banshees of Inisherin is set in 1923, during the last days of the Irish Civil War where cannon fire can be heard multiple times in the mainland. It’s a fitting metaphor created by director Martin McDonagh, implying that the personal conflict between Pádraic and Colm has great resonance with the war happening across the sea. Instead of de-escalating and finding a compromise, both men keep doubling down on their quarrels, and it’s starting to have a ripple effect on their small town. It’s the Irish brand of self-loathing perfectly put on screen, and the film does a neat job of shifting the audience’s sympathies back and forth between the two friends, until one can no longer do with either.
McDonagh’s latest film also serves as a reunion for darkly funny pairing of Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, who last shared the screen together in In Bruges (also written and directed by McDonagh). While the trio’s previous film explores the forming of relationships, The Banshees of Inisherin is essentially about breakups, and how it’s virtually impossible to successfully do it in a small town with a tight-knit community. However, one thing in common about McDonagh’s two films is the pursuit of self-worth and purpose. This time, McDonagh seems to suggest that finding meaning in one’s life is an absurd act (as with Albert Camus’ philosophy) that could only lead to self-destruction.
Most of The Banshees of Inisherin is depressing, but McDonagh’s signature humorous but philosophical dialogue and the general craziness of the main conflict will leave you with bouts of laughter and melancholy. Farrell delivers some of his best performances here as Pádraic, seeing a simple man turn for the worse as he gets eaten up by abrupt abandonment. Gleeson is perfect in floating along Colm’s existential dread. Rounding out the cast are Kerry Condon as Pádraic’s sister Siobhán, and Barry Keoghan, who almost steals the whole film from the leads, as the village clown Dominic, perhaps the most tragic character in Banshees with his sympathetic vulnerability. Overall, it’s a very funny but sad film, and McDonagh’s best one since In Bruges.
Rating:
The Talking Screen 