An utter delight at the beginning, The Banshees of Inisherin also has a despondency around its edges that grows like a shadow as the movie proceeds—it’s like Waking Ned Devine with a three-day beard. Set on the small Irish island of Inisherin in 1923, where gunfire and explosions from the Irish Civil War can be heard over the waves, the movie centers on the suddenly defunct friendship between Pádraic (Colin Farrell), a young, easygoing herdsman who lives a simple life with his sister, and Colm (Brendan Gleeson), an older musician who lives alone in a cottage on a pristine bay. After years—perhaps even decades—of passing afternoon hours together over pints at the public house, Colm declares one day, out of nowhere, that he no longer wants Pádraic to speak to him. Certainly, there’s a metaphor at work here for the war across the water, but thankfully writer-director Martin McDonagh doesn’t lean on it too hard. Overall, he demonstrates a firmer command of tone than he did with his previous film, the Oscar darling Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, even as Banshees slowly shifts gears from comedy to something far heavier. Perhaps the difference is that Banshees—much like McDonagh’s first film, In Bruges, which also starred Farrell and Gleeson—emphasizes character over theme. To that end, McDonagh serves up witty and slyly wise exchanges among the various residents of the island (including Bary Keoghan at his squintiest, playing the village dimwit). It’s Farrell who truly makes the dialogue sing, polishing off the punchlines (or responding to them) with facial reactions that add a few more laughs to every scene. Then, as the seriousness sets in, Farrell brings a deep sadness to the performance that’s staggering. In its final third, McDonagh ups the tragic ante more than the film requires; with the faces of Farrell and Gleeson at its center, this wry meditation on friendship, loneliness, and depression has all the drama it needs.
(10/21/2022)
