Staff writer Taha Khambaty reviews “The Banshees of Inisherin”, a tragicomedy about the abrupt end of a lifelong friendship.
Imagine if, one day, your best friend suddenly decided that you are boring and that he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. What feels like a 12-year-old’s worst nightmare is played completely straight by Collin Farrell and Brendon Gleeson, as Pádraic and Colm respectively, in “The Banshees of Inisherin”.
The film, written and directed by Martin McDonagh, has plenty of wit and humour, delivering moments of utter hilarity through the most mundane, childlike scenarios. Even though its plot, at first glance, appears rather simplistic, McDonagh fleshes out each character such that their actions always feel warranted and have an actual impact on the narrative. This stops the film from feeling like just two childish adults engaged in a dumb squabble and instead imbues it with a sense of genuine emotion and stakes.
Another brilliant aspect of the screenplay is how it weaves in this darker and more isolated feeling that inhabits the small (fictional) island of Inisherin alongside our characters. This looming sense of dread suddenly jumps at you, just after the film has convinced you to lower your guard with its humour. Heightening the film’s theme of isolation is its gorgeous cinematography by Ben Davis. The wide and extreme wide shots of the island of Inisherin highlight the beauty of the land while also making it feel very silent and remote. It captures brilliantly a feeling of looking at something beautiful with a keen awareness of its eventual demise.
These feelings and themes are also captured in the performances of its cast. Farrell’s Pádraic inhabits this denial of an unsavoury change, convinced that he just needs to find a magic answer to a problem that can’t be solved but only moved on from. This is contrasted with Gleeson’s Colm, who refuses to go back to a more peaceful past in favour of making unneeded sacrifices for a grander future. Alongside them are Pádraic’s sister Siobhán, played by Kerry Condon, and Dominic, played by Barry Keoghan. Condon delivers an excellent performance as a tired mediator who slowly comes to the realisation that her only path to peace is to abandon her past, while Keoghan actively steals almost every scene he is in with his performance as a socially awkward young man, shaped by his tragic past but choosing to carry on oblivious to it. His performance provides many of the film’s funniest and most heartbreaking scenes as his naivety illuminates both the silliness at the core of the film and the sadness that lurks underneath it.
As a whole the film feels very well-paced, balancing tones of humour and tragedy exceptionally well by using them not as opposing forces but rather as two sides of the same lonely, Irish coin. As a result, the ending, which completely embraces the darker aspect of its story, feels earned. While the conclusion is unfortunate, it feels as though both the characters and the plot have reached their natural conclusion, leaving you breathing the deepest sad sigh as you leave the cinema.
