Dublin Old School Director: Dave Tynan
Talent: Emmet Kirwan, Ian Lloyd Anderson, Seana Kerslake, Sarah Greene, Mark O’Halloran
Released: 29 June
Jason (Emmet Kirwan) is living a hedonistic life with his amiable, wastrel friends. He spends his nights (and much of his days) popping pills, making vague overtures to a former lover, and sweating profusely. Emmet’s dicey routine of ‘having the craic’ gets interrupted when he happens upon his heroin addicted brother Daniel whom he hasn’t seen in years. Although Jason’s made a villain of his brother, he’s confronted by their similarities, but is unwilling to see the overlap. So while Daniel withers, staggering around Bachelor’s Walk and back lanes, Jason persists in ‘getting mad out of it,’ reminiscing every so often about the tender childhood moments he shared with his brother. At intermittent junctures throughout the film, the two brothers grudgingly reconnect.
It’s likely you’ll recognise the personnel from the Youtube videos Just Saying and Heartbreak. I wasn’t one of the many converted by these quiveringly sincere Kirwan/Tynan collaborations. At worst, they felt a bit like being cornered by an earnest liberal in a pub before closing time. But nevertheless, there was clearly performative talent there and Tynan knows how to mount a handsome looking production.
Good news then that Tynan and Kirwan, forgoing their rally-crying tendencies, keep things fun and loose here. The scenes of the friends’ post-party languishing ring true. The cast is uniformly excellent. Kirwan is an enormously charismatic actor, looking harried but never so much that he can’t engage in a bit of mischief. He convinces as one of the lads and yet his expression is suggestive of a poet’s interiority.
This brings us on to the poetry – this film is adapted from a successful stage play two-hander where spoken word is rife. Though I was happy for the spoken word stuff to take a back seat, how to integrate it into film remains a stubborn problem. It is relegated to Jason’s mind where it alternates between being an interior monologue and a sort of floaty Terrence Mallick narration, its inclusion never quite making sense. Similarly, certain threads feel unimportant, like Jason’s ambitions to spin hot wax – a thread so expendable it makes George’s Lucas’s Jar Jar Binks seem needed; meanwhile, the more interesting love interest thread involving the overwhelmingly talented Seana Kerslake gets completely scuppered.
No matter. This looseness adds to the hangout veracity of the film. The dialogue, which makes up most of the movie, is sharp and irreverent, full of scathing wit that reminds us of what is so enjoyable about our fair city’s denizens. The film’s biggest triumph, though, is how much the fraternal relationship at its centre resonates, with the two of them by turns lambasting and caring for one another.
What’s less clear-eyed is the film’s stance on drug consumption. While it does makes gestures towards suggesting that Jason’s reckless excess is on a continuum that leads straight to his brother’s onerous predicament, the film is having a bit too much fun with the antics resulting from Jason’s indiscriminate drug use. It won’t win me any coolness competitions, but I would’ve liked some stronger lows to go with the highs, as this is surely what relentless drug intake entails. Jason just pukes a bit before soldiering on.
These niggles aside, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed myself. Rackety and unpolished like its characters, the film is ultimately winning. Most exciting of all it suggests a bright future for young Irish filmmaking and acting talent.
Words: Rory Kiberd
