The Banshees of Inisherin: Martin McDonagh’s Mournful Ode to Irish Folklore

Image courtesy of IMDB.

Spoilers for The Banshees of Inisherin Below 

Well-established as one of the most exceptional writer-directors in modern cinema, Martin McDonagh tackles daunting existential questions with unmatched grace. McDonagh’s films pair slick comedic wit with a kind of philosophical weight, and one quality never obscures the other; they seem to feed off of one another, only illuminating the absurdity of our existence. These grave yet laughable bits of human experience are as potent as ever in McDonagh’s newest (and most unmistakably Irish) film, The Banshees of Inisherin (2022), which reunites Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson from their unforgettable In Bruges (2008) performance. Elements of dark comedy and questions of morality are still ever-present in Banshees, yet they exist in an atmosphere that feels more deeply personal and painfully relatable.

Like McDonagh’s most celebrated cinematic projects– In Bruges and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)– The Banshees of Inisherin wastes no time in establishing its central conflict. Pádraic (Colin Farrell) trots over to the local pub to share a pint with his best mate, Colm (Brendan Gleeson) – a pastime as old as time itself. Only there has been a curious rift in the ever-predictable events of this remote Irish island. Colm has decided he no longer wishes to be friends with a young, simple-minded fellow like Pádraic, kind-hearted as he is. After facing such cold, blunt abandonment, Pádraic appears– in an instant– completely transformed, wandering about the island in confusion and despair. Colm– who is experiencing a crisis of his own– believes his time might be better spent in the company of his fiddle (or virtually anyone else, it seems).

As McDonagh explained in an interview alongside Farrell for a recent installment of the Oscars’ “Academy Conversations,” this platonic break-up was just about all he had established with certainty before the actual filming process began. Farrell cited an earlier version of the script from about seven years prior, explaining that the story, while sharing the same central conflict, was originally more “plot-driven,” with “action scenes” and even “shootouts.” “To be honest with you, my character was a bit... cooler,” Farrell noted with a chuckle, “He had a simplicity to him, but he wasn’t as simple as lovely Pádraic.” McDonagh scrapped the original version before revisiting it “sort of by accident” about three years ago.

After Farrell’s first encounter with the pensive, character-driven script which would come to define the film as we know it, he expressed some apprehension in his ability to offer a truly memorable performance without the aid of conventional action. Always as humble as he is charming, I think Farrell himself was probably the only one on set withholding any doubt in his ability to deliver. As if it wasn’t already the case, his performance as Pádraic has cemented Colin Farrell as one of the most talented, versatile actors in the industry today.

Despite possibly feeling a certain obligation– as Farrell expressed– to live up to the sheer brilliance of a storyteller like Martin McDonagh, the actors in The Banshees of Inisherin were granted a remarkable sense of freedom in their approach. McDonagh constructed the central pairing of Pádraic and Colm with Farrell and Gleeson in mind, and the same holds true for Kerry Condon (Siobhán) and Barry Keoghan (Dominic), who deliver fantastic performances in their own right– there is no single indisputable stand-out. Moderator Jess Cagle went on to ask McDonagh whether he had any exterior “biographical details'' for the characters in mind when he was writing the script, to which the writer-director laughed. “What’s on the page is all I’ve got,” McDonagh explained frankly. With such minimal outline to work from, the actors themselves are invited to experiment, and the film becomes an authentic, collective effort committed to pure artistic integrity.

Keeping in that spirit, I tend to think most viewers would be surprised to learn that one of the darker plot-points of the film– where Colm threatens a kind of fairytale self-harm in the interest of proving his point– wasn’t even Martin McDonagh’s idea originally. Brendan Gleeson (Colm) made this shocking proclamation seemingly out of nowhere, and McDonagh chose to run with it immediately, as though there were no other options. While any act of creation might be defined by a kind of spontaneity, this commitment to maintaining a sense of fluidity and immediacy throughout the entire project is more than laudable. The final product feels carefully constructed and seamless in form, yet raw and natural in the way its narrative unfolds.

As Pádraic and Colm drift apart abruptly, only to angrily stumble over one another again and again, feelings of collapse reverberate throughout the small Irish town of Inisherin, uniquely affecting all of its inhabitants. Civil War on the mainland casts a dim shadow over this small fragment of rocky coastline, while a newly evolved banshee– perhaps a manifestation of death itself– looks on in quiet indifference. In turn, this slice-of-life-esque story becomes inextricable from a kind of cosmic, metaphysical significance that echoes the spirit of ancient folklore. At the film’s close, some –but not all– loose ends are tied. All four main characters exhibit somewhat of a beginning, middle, and end; yet gray areas persist. Pádraic and Colm stand on the beach staring down the horizon in all its infinity, and the viewer– engulfed in a twisted sense of wonder– cannot help but do the same.