Venice 2022: The Banshees of Inisherin Review

Poetic justifications for the need to cut someone out of the day-to-day doings of life are explored well in The Banshees of Inisherin, which dares to ask whether or not it is justified to exclude dull people. Those types that have nothing of interest to say, their scattershot recollections of their day-to-day equal to or lesser than that of the day before. There is no change of pace or short supply of those that have nothing to say or do and Martin McDonagh capitalises on that with a piece whose narrative strokes can be compared to the rise and fall of the Civil War that underlines it all. Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson’s roles may be removed from the war, but they are deep in conflict.

So deep in conflict in fact that extremes are drawn up and acted upon. Colm (Gleeson) makes it clear that he wants nothing to do with Padraig (Farrell). Be that as it may, the simple and confused mind of Padraig fails to take note, questioning why his friend has fallen out with him. Relationships live or die on the continued emotional attachment of both people involved. For one to fall out of favour with the other is bad enough, but for no particular reason, that is a twist of the knife that Farrell’s performance captures so wonderfully. His great work sees him brush shoulders with an excellent Kerry Condon and a solid bit of work from Barry Keoghan in a supporting role.

Collectively, that tightly-knit cast comes together to support Gleeson, whose work here is elevated by the essential presence he has on screen as a force to be reckoned with, but with genuine reasoning behind his rather nasty decision. Incredible landscapes of Irish islands create a juxtaposition with the dark hearts that stumble their way through life there, where a pub and church are the only places of real community. The Banshees of Inisherin has the same effects and qualities as In Bruges, a darkly funny piece that relies on Farrell and Gleeson to work through the tough times on their strong chemistry alone. They work brilliantly together, the pair at odds for much of the running time as they attempt to figure out their legacy and place in a history that may forget them after death.

Repression of real emotions leads to explosive outbursts in this piece from McDonagh, who captures lightning in a bottle once more when forming the chemistry between Gleeson and Farrell. Are we to cast aside those that mean something to us for the sake of pursuing a legacy that may not even be there? Perhaps. Some blazes forever burn, some stronger than the fires we start on our own. Misunderstandings and an alignment with a vision for the self haunt Colm and the audience that latch onto Gleeson’s stirring performance, one that dares to ask if life could be better without the dull. In turn, the small-town stereotypes of islanders akin to that of Father Ted’s Craggy Island are spotted, the back-and-forth blows of boredom keeping them both closely knit and in contempt of one another.