Inisherin Island, a pristine windswept rock off the coast of Ireland, doesn’t appear on the actual map, but its geography is unmistakable. Not only are sweaters and sheep, Guinness beers and thatched roofs telling a carefully curated Irish authenticity, but what happens on this island is firmly rooted in the fictional region that might be called McDonough County. Because it is located
This is a place dominated by playwright and filmmaker Martin McDonagh’s playful and twisted sensibilities, where the picturesque and the profane blend, light humor and gruesome. It is a place where violent violence coexists. The boundaries of the territory extend from Spokane, Washington, through Missouri to the Belgian city of Bruges, to various real and conceptual Irish spots. McDonagh’s new film, Inishelin’s Banshees, embellishes cartography without necessarily breaking new ground. If you’re unfamiliar with his work, it’s a good place to start.
Other McDonagh characteristics include a ferocious, rocking plot that alternates between hilarious and grim, smeared with a varnish of almost invisible sentimentality. You don’t have to believe what you see, and while it may be impossible, you can be bewildered by the fickle honesty of the characters and moved by the spark of humanity their struggle gives off. And I was impressed with the skill of the actors and crew (including cinematographer Ben Davis, composer Carter Burwell, and costume designer Aymar Ni Maoldomnai). Perhaps most of all, it tends to be tickled and, at times, a good laugh by the spray of verbal wit that characterizes McDonagh’s dialect.
It’s 1923, and it’s undergoing a bit of modernization on the way to Inisherin. There, rural life goes on at an ancient pace. On the mainland, the Irish Civil War drags on. Distant gunshots can sometimes be heard over the water. The islanders care little about it and see no point in taking sides. The local constable (Gary Lydon), a dreary, violent beast who’s the closest thing to a pure villain this movie possesses, is happy to be recruited to aid in the execution. He doesn’t know or care whether the military is responsible for the killing or he is the IRA. He is happy to gauk and get paid.
In any case, “Banshees” concerns a bitter local conflict between gregarious cowherd Padraic (Colin Farrell) and melancholy violinist Colm (Brendan Gleeson). They have been drinking together at the local shebeen almost every afternoon for as long as anyone can remember, until Colm suddenly and unilaterally declared the end of their friendship. “I don’t like you anymore,” he tells Padraic.
Corum is pretty serious. Every time Padraic dares to speak to him, he swears, he will cut off one of his fingers. Gives you a nauseating momentum. Even after the numbers start flying — Corum tosses them at Padraic’s cottage door — it’s hard for Padraic and the audience to understand, let alone accept, what’s going on.
What’s Corum’s problem? He may be a little more worldly than his neighbors. The masks and other objects that adorn his home suggest an acquaintance, or simply curiosity, with the world beyond the island. Gleeson plays him as a storm cloud in a billowing overcoat. His temperament is that of an artist who is both too sensitive and too unstable for his surroundings. The parish priest worries that he is prone to the sin of despair. This sounds simple, but it’s not entirely inaccurate.
You can understand how Corum is annoyed with Padraic.Part of Pharrell’s appeal is that he’s always at least a little annoyed.Corm is desperate for a change in his routine. He’s composing a new song, and spending time with petty drinking buddies threatens to distract him from this potential masterpiece. Still, his self-harm seems a little extreme.
Not necessarily in McDonagh’s world. (See also “A Behind in Spokane.”) Corum and Padraic are flanked by humans and various other Inisherinites. Colm lives with his patient, a border collie. Surrounded by various kinds of livestock, Padraic is especially attached to a small donkey named Jenny. He also lives with his wise and wise sister, Siobhan (Kelly Condon), who quietly dreams of leaving Inishelin, and sometimes, Dominic (Barry, the mentally disabled son of that snobbish constable).・Spend time with Kogan.
Some of these creatures are marked for tragedy—the old widow of witches predicts a general fate whenever she passes someone on the road or stops for tea—and McDonagh is expertly crafted with tragedy and humor.
“Inishelin’s Banshees” may feel a little thin when it comes to conventional standards of comedy and drama. Inisherin may not be a real place, but its quirky features, rugged scenery, and lively local legends make it a fascinating tourist destination.
Inishelin’s Banshee
Rated R. Salty words and bloody deeds. Running time: 1 hour 49 minutes. at the theater.