I have been trying to catch up on some of the films under consideration for awards season and found this one on cable. It was nominated for the Golden Globes under comedy, so I thought it might be amusing. Alas, this is neither a comedy (it does not even qualify for "dark comedy") nor an enjoyable viewing experience. I would say that the only people who could possibly enjoy it are those who mistake misery for greatness or spend their spare time pulling wings off injured birds.
Set in the 1920s in a small Irish village, the film focuses on two men - Padraic (Colin Farrell) and Colm (Brendan Gleeson) - who are ostensibly best mates. Colm without reason suddenly decides to end his friendship with Padraic in as abrupt and cruel a fashion as possible. When a shocked and desolate Padraic tries to find out why and apologize for any offense, Colm with a total lack of emotion tells him he did nothing wrong. Colm apparently feels he is destined for greatness and immortality by composing a song bearing the title of this tripe, and every moment that he spends with Padraic (ostensibly with the majority of the village) is wasted, because they are all dull, stupid wastes of space that drain his creativity.
Colm then ups the ante by eventually telling Padriac that if he sees him or tries to speak to him, Colm with go on a binge of self-mutilation. A ridiculous gauntlet to throw down since the village is the size of a postage stamp and they frequent the pub around the same time. So unless Padraic literally sells his home and moves away, avoiding each other is impossible.
The film - already a slog - then descends into a further despairing pit of unwatchable nonsense. It is obvious early on that Colm is psychotic and needs to be locked up for his own safety and the potential danger he holds to those in the village. By the time he starts hacking off parts of his body (a self-defeating endeavor given a musician would need things like fingers) and flinging them on neighbors doorsteps, the film becomes completely ludicrous. When Padraic's beloved pet donkey - and ostensibly only other friend - chokes to death on one of the Colm's severed body parts, then film rockets further into pointless cruelty.
I get that this is 1920s Ireland and the mental health system was not the best, but they did have asylums for people like Colm and the reactions of the villagers to Colm's behavior strains credibility. By the time the hacking starts, you know even then that someone would have come and taken Colm away to be restrained.
Full disclosure is that I did not watch the film all the way to the end because it had become so repellent and the characters so loathsome or stupid by the 3/4ths mark that unless there was some epiphany, the film was a waste of time. I gather from speaking to those that did finish it, that its downward spiral does not get arrested and the film ends on a depressing note with a message that seems to denigrate kindness, friendship and love as nothing worth aspiring towards.
The only other plot of note centers on Barry Keoghan as the village idiot, who adores Padriac's sister Kerry Condon. Everyone ostensibly cannot stand him, but put up with him because his dad is the local constable and lives to bully him and make his life hell. FUN!
I will give credit where it is due. The scenery is lovely. Farrell does his best with the lead role, even when it stops making sense. The ill-fated donkey was cute.
Of the remaining cast, Keoghan pretty much rambles his way through the stock village idiot role. Critics have invented superlatives for Condon's acting, but she is shoe-horned into the cliched role of the long-suffering Irish woman trying to be the voice of reason and empathy to a bunch of brutal and dumb men. She does nothing new here that has not been done by legions of other actresses that preceded her. Gleeson is dreadful. The character makes no sense and has no dimension. He is a cruel nut and Gleeson does nothing with the part. Then again, who could possibly find anything of worth in this role.
I have nothing against tragic films or films that end on a downbeat note. But (especially after the three years of hell that the world at large has endured) that tragedy needs to be earned and Banshees does not earn it. Everything bit of misery documented herein is self-induced and tiresome. The characters are ill-defined or pitched on one strident note and become more unsympathetic and hateful as the film progresses. The film is not funny or profound or insightful. Quite the contrary, it seems to be under the impression that relentless and often nonsensical bleakness translates into some form of greatness. It really troubles me how many people are buying into that foolishness.
Set in the 1920s in a small Irish village, the film focuses on two men - Padraic (Colin Farrell) and Colm (Brendan Gleeson) - who are ostensibly best mates. Colm without reason suddenly decides to end his friendship with Padraic in as abrupt and cruel a fashion as possible. When a shocked and desolate Padraic tries to find out why and apologize for any offense, Colm with a total lack of emotion tells him he did nothing wrong. Colm apparently feels he is destined for greatness and immortality by composing a song bearing the title of this tripe, and every moment that he spends with Padraic (ostensibly with the majority of the village) is wasted, because they are all dull, stupid wastes of space that drain his creativity.
Colm then ups the ante by eventually telling Padriac that if he sees him or tries to speak to him, Colm with go on a binge of self-mutilation. A ridiculous gauntlet to throw down since the village is the size of a postage stamp and they frequent the pub around the same time. So unless Padraic literally sells his home and moves away, avoiding each other is impossible.
The film - already a slog - then descends into a further despairing pit of unwatchable nonsense. It is obvious early on that Colm is psychotic and needs to be locked up for his own safety and the potential danger he holds to those in the village. By the time he starts hacking off parts of his body (a self-defeating endeavor given a musician would need things like fingers) and flinging them on neighbors doorsteps, the film becomes completely ludicrous. When Padraic's beloved pet donkey - and ostensibly only other friend - chokes to death on one of the Colm's severed body parts, then film rockets further into pointless cruelty.
I get that this is 1920s Ireland and the mental health system was not the best, but they did have asylums for people like Colm and the reactions of the villagers to Colm's behavior strains credibility. By the time the hacking starts, you know even then that someone would have come and taken Colm away to be restrained.
Full disclosure is that I did not watch the film all the way to the end because it had become so repellent and the characters so loathsome or stupid by the 3/4ths mark that unless there was some epiphany, the film was a waste of time. I gather from speaking to those that did finish it, that its downward spiral does not get arrested and the film ends on a depressing note with a message that seems to denigrate kindness, friendship and love as nothing worth aspiring towards.
The only other plot of note centers on Barry Keoghan as the village idiot, who adores Padriac's sister Kerry Condon. Everyone ostensibly cannot stand him, but put up with him because his dad is the local constable and lives to bully him and make his life hell. FUN!
I will give credit where it is due. The scenery is lovely. Farrell does his best with the lead role, even when it stops making sense. The ill-fated donkey was cute.
Of the remaining cast, Keoghan pretty much rambles his way through the stock village idiot role. Critics have invented superlatives for Condon's acting, but she is shoe-horned into the cliched role of the long-suffering Irish woman trying to be the voice of reason and empathy to a bunch of brutal and dumb men. She does nothing new here that has not been done by legions of other actresses that preceded her. Gleeson is dreadful. The character makes no sense and has no dimension. He is a cruel nut and Gleeson does nothing with the part. Then again, who could possibly find anything of worth in this role.
I have nothing against tragic films or films that end on a downbeat note. But (especially after the three years of hell that the world at large has endured) that tragedy needs to be earned and Banshees does not earn it. Everything bit of misery documented herein is self-induced and tiresome. The characters are ill-defined or pitched on one strident note and become more unsympathetic and hateful as the film progresses. The film is not funny or profound or insightful. Quite the contrary, it seems to be under the impression that relentless and often nonsensical bleakness translates into some form of greatness. It really troubles me how many people are buying into that foolishness.