The Banshees of Inisherin got a 14ish-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival ‘22. Imagine a food delivery order that the dasher marked delivered but arrived a minute late. Then multiply that wait by 14. That’s how long an applause. If there was one thing the internet has taught us, one cannot just love some content and be content with that. Memetics. Need to create more content from it and one-up all the others to remain the one true fan - The only Potterhead Who Lived.
As if several hundreds of pages worth of script writing, thousands of hours shooting and curating it into a feature length film wasn’t enough. Someone has to come in and imansplain it all over again. Yes. I must repeat it all with my personal takes and put them on the blog, just to get it all out of the system. This movie touches the audience on so many different, philosophical levels, that even if one wanted to - they couldn’t stop thinking about how Martin McDonagh’s mind really works. Well, I must, because life awaits.
In this binary universe, there really are two kinds of people. Ones who care about making a statement by having a real purpose. In a clash between them and the future they hope to procreate, the docile have usually had to make way, either by force or otherwise. Neanderthals, native tribes, resisted change or apparent "progress" and paid the price for it.
It’s a simple movie, I hope you will agree. By simple, I mean the ultimate sophistication one. There is a sher (couplet) in Hariharan’s ghazal (form of poetry) ‘Kaash’ (I wish) –
“Is bulandi pe bahut tanha hu, Kaash main sab ke barabar hota.”
It roughly translates to, “On these heights, I am very melancholic. I wish I were at the same level as everyone else.”
Simple ideas don’t have to be built on a single core. As we know, even an atom is divisible. Reductionism aside, those lines struck a chord. This film however, like fine wine, has just the right amount of hints to a few different attributes relevant to the current times. Some that were apparent to me were - Ghosting, Gaslighting (WOTY 2022!), Gloom, Gom-shaming (if that’s a term in Irish psychology), Grandeur (mostly of the self) and the list probably goes on.
“For myself, I always write about Dublin, because if I can get to the heart of Dublin I can get to the heart of all the cities of the world. In the particular is contained the universal.” ― James Joyce
And, just like that, from a tiny island of Inisherin – Martin McDonagh pretty much addressed the entire world population, especially the top x% chasing immortality in some form or another. Be nice, in your pursuit – is probably the collective messaging here. Or not.
I can’t help but feel as bad for ColmSonnyLarry whose sorrow might be eclipsed by Padraic Suilleabhain’s universal draw of empathy for having largely been on the receiving end of the discord.
Colm’s jolted realization of time and sudden resolve to make his life worth is only testament to his submission to mortality in the end (p/unintended). Unfortunately, it comes to most of us only in senility. The overpowering weakness can shove “niceness” aside in a heartbeat. It does give way to self-grandeur, moral high ground, self-righteousness. But that as we see could turn around quickly – when Siobhan points out to Colm (a musician himself) that Mozart lived in the 18th Century, not the 17th. She is well read, lonely, but still young – and hence hopeful, not of the same level of despair being on the same boring island as Colm. Colm's subconscious pride at having found an urgency for his purpose in life is swiftly grounded back to earth faster than a submission move in krav maga combats. It's interesting that the choice of punishment to self-mutilate was a sadist move, while also being purely masochistic. In the scene where Padraic's ruffled by the policeman, what hurts him more than being punched in the face is his humane friend offers his passive care in brutal apathy. It instantly explains why Colm could impart a lot more pain to Padraic just by hurting himself than perform even the worst form of human torture on Padraic to keep him at bay. While as a masochistic choice, self-mutilation of specifically the fingers that disable him to play his instrument only seem to relieve him of the grind and an immense responsibility of creating something he possibly was never meant to conceive.
Padraic’s coming off age seems a Breaking Bad like character journey. He, in a way, reaffirms Colm’s take that niceness doesn’t last after all. It’s just the threshold that varies between people of different temperament. If Colm’s moral high ground is his sense of timeless art makes him less dull, it could be argued that Padraic’s could be his supposed niceness over others. Or his skewed understanding of Dominic’s intellect, which at times caught him off-guard too. For every Colm, there is a Padraic – just like for every Padraic there is a Dominic. It’s where the chain ends that’s most remorseful. Dominic’s proposal to Siobhan is a beautiful scene and the performance is impeccable.
The premise of a small island with little news is an abstract playground for the possible future. What happens when everyone is saturated by the constant stimulation? If suddenly everything is interesting, nothing is. Voila! We, as humanity, would be nothing different from the people of Inisherin – having no news. In that kind of gloom, it’s some promise of perpetuity that gives us a shimmer of hope. The civil war seems to be a metaphor for Colm’s and Padraic’s relationship. Even if it’s via enmity, their friendship had found a path to keep them engaged, not boring.
Carter Burwell’s music is most powerful in its minimalist form. Perfect for the visuals and the aura. Spacious like the landscape, with intriguing intervals, melodically and rhythmically. Complements the unfurling of the plot with accurate moods for mystery, pathos, agony and peace. It sometimes reminds me of the Coen Brothers since the directorial and overall stylistic similarities for characters, cast, storytelling and other aesthetics have so much in common.
After dwelling on the film, a good number of times this holiday season, alas, it’s time to move on. Perhaps not being able to capture and confine all that I felt while watching it is part of the perpetuity of this brilliant film. And one day I’ll return to it ruminating some more. Well, that'd just be the best thing!