IF you were to delve into the canon of Irish literature you might well find that it philosophically steers towards an overarching sense of the absurdity of existence. Certainly, if you care to traverse the conceptually tortuous works of vener- ated Irish scriveners James Joyce or Sam- uel Beckett, you will discover myriad un- settling portrayals of what it means to be human in a randomly sequential universe, where humor and despair act as duelling catalysts for laughter and existential dread. It’s a comedic sensibility that this writer, at least, would argue is somewhat peculiar to those of Irish Gaelic genealogy, and it’s rather brilliantly mined in The Banshees of Inisherin , which stars veteran Irish acting legends Colin Farrell and Brendan Glee- son as ex-friends ensconced in a down- ward spiral that portends mutual destruc- tion, alongside sterling support from the Emerald Isle’s fastest rising star, the utter- ly brilliant Barry Keoghan. In a film that largely circles around Gleeson’s character’s propensity for chop- ping off fiddle-playing digits and chucking them at a traumatised farmer, brilliantly played by Farrell, Keoghan supplies some- thing of a moral compass in the form of a kind-hearted lovesick country boy, who, as we discover, has been repeatedly abused by his malicious and perverse copper of a father. With such dark-edged comedy playing against the bleak backdrop of a small fictitious island community lashed by windswept emptiness and parochial gossip, you could be forgiven for think- ing that the latest offering from acclaimed playwright and director Martin McDonagh
of In Bruges and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing , Missouri fame doesn’t sound exactly laugh-a-minute, but when you find yourself convulsing with laughter, just seconds be- fore your heart drops through the floor, you’ll better understand the misery-stroke-hi- larity paradox at its beating heart. Not least as the sad fate of the not-so-simple heart- sleeved local lad that Keoghan plays with such deeply understated grace unfolds. “It is a breakup movie to me. I mean, it’s a really, really sad breakup movie, and there’s so much stuff in there that touches on the Irish culture, and that small town kind of mentality thing, but it could be set anywhere, and that’s the beauty of it–we can all relate to it,” opens the Dublin-born actor in his distinct cadence as we connect over FaceTime very early on a Monday morning, him leaning into a smart-phone camera from a car-seat, me downing my third cup of coffee in my PJs in deepest south Lon- don. “I read somewhere the other day that a male relationship breakup is probably harder than any other breakup, and, you know, it’s not something that we look at all the time–especially in Ireland where everything is so internal, and you don’t really see people expressing what they feel. I think we’re just sometimes too egotistical as guys to show any weakness or compassion, or anything along the lines of, look, I may be wrong, so I’ll put my hands up–we’ll often walk away rather than talk it out.” Indeed. McDonagh’s Oscar-tipped investigation of unspoken and destructive im- pulses in male friendship is just the latest in a series of interesting character choices for the 30-year-old actor, whose rise has been unstoppable since his major big screen breakthrough as a chillingly cold and psychotic teen in Yorgos Lanthimos’s emotion- ally excoriating The Killing of A Sacred Deer , and it provides yet more testament to a rare acting ability that has witnessed him being hailed as the great white hope of his generation. But before I can get to any discussion of his clear talent, he breaks off sud- denly, and disarmingly. “I’m so sorry I missed you the other day, by the way, man,” he says, referring to the missed chat we had scheduled three days earlier, in a way that is, as it turns out, characteristically down-to-earth. “We’ve literally just moved to Scotland with the wee one this week,” he continues with a broad smile, referring to his recently born son Brando, named after the great man himself. “I’m just in the car outside the house now–we’re pretty much still unloading.” And how is he finding his brand new home so far, I inquire. “It’s nice, man. There are a lot of similarities with Ireland here, actually, and a lot of the people have an Irish background–we were living in London, but it’s really great to be out of London with the kid, not to say London is bad for a kid, but it’s too fast for me at the minute.” He’s clearly buzzing about his move, and I can’t help but ask him how much fa- therhood has already changed his perspective on life. In a heartbeat it’s crystal clear that Keoghan is very much in love with what is arguably his most important new role, and his partner. “It’s breathtaking. It’s completely changed my outlook. I mean that. And you don’t really get that until you have your wee little one. I mean, you literally
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