Cinema: Contemporary, Cult and Classic: Ballywalter
A monthly column by: Eleanor Lee
Ballywalter, a Belfast-based dark comedy is simultaneously a tale of small towns, dead-end jobs, failures and regrets. Whilst also being a tale of unexpected connections, humour in times of darkness, and ultimately, humanity.
The film, which follows the unlikely friendship of university-dropout-turned-taxi driver Eileen (Seána Kerslake), and her regular fare, budding-comic-cum-disgraced-family man Shane (Patrick Kielty) on their 25-mile weekly commute between the capital and the namesake town.
Visually, the film is immediately effective in capturing its setting. The Ard’s Peninsula is captured in a bleak but undeniably beautiful style. The distinctive cinema-verité style, replete with shaky camera, low-level lighting, and greyscale colours reflects the tone of the film – real and raw, and unashamedly Irish.
Image Credit: Empire Street Productions
Eileen makes no bones of the fact that she does not do small-talk, and that her punters should do their best to keep quiet. Thus, early in the film, conversations, and the absence of them is a central thematic thread. This elicits some amusing interactions with quirky characters and familiar small-town chatterboxes. The audience come to understand Eileen’s downbeat demeanour as product of difficult circumstances: having flunked university, her dreams of a glamorous career in London appear over, and she is forced to move back to her family home which cannot accommodate her much longer. Grieving her recently deceased father and proving a constant disappointment to her loving-but-tough mother and sister, Eileen struggles to carve out a role for herself in her new circumstances.
Cut to Shane, who has seemingly exiled himself to the backwater community by way of penance for his perceived failings, in doing so leaving behind his family for whom he deems himself unworthy. Although the film is comedic from the outset, through the character of Shane, comedy is explored as an exercise in honesty, finding relief from shame, and a means of connection. Through the weekly taxi pilgrimage to and from his comedy class, he becomes a regular fare for Eileen. Earphones donned and asking for no entertainment, ironically it is she who plucks up conversation.
After a few false starts, the beginnings of something akin to friendship emerges between the pair. The platonic(ish) relationship forged between the two serves as a medium for confronting uncomfortable home truths and accepting responsibility to forgive oneself. Moreover, it is an endeavour in the art of listening, the importance of which the film captures beautifully.
Depression, alcoholism, and the spectrum of mental health is explored, with superb performances of raw despair from Eileen, and subtle, yet entirely convincing displays of accepted discontentment from her counterpart. The responding tone is one of pragmatism without unkindness, with constant refrains from stoic characters such as Eileen’s mother that “moping” is no use, there’s no choice but to “keep on truckin’”, and for Heaven’s sake, “don’t milk it”. The result is palpably familiar and decidedly Irish.
Religion and politics are introduced as subtle refrains, through unelaborated visual prompts. Recurring shots of evangelical, doomsday graffiti serve as a reminder of guilt for Shane, and of the perennial centrality of religion to the audience. Nods to not-so-distant conflict include the mural for Lyra McKee, modern-day victim of violent separatism and campaigner for hope.
There is joy too, in the hyper-local Belfast references. Sights to include the comedy club at The Empire, The Europa, The Sunflower bar and much more, were enlivening as an audience member, particularly when sat a stone’s throw away, in the QFT.
The end-result is bittersweet, and unmistakably human. A solid contribution to the contemporary cannon of Irish film. Ballywalter is in cinemas, including the QFT now.
Edited by: David Williamson
Eleanor Lees is a Master's student, studying Media and Broadcast Production.