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Rory Kiberd Michael Lanigan Michael McDermott Con
or Stevens David Turpin ILLUSTRATION Danielle Byrne God’s Creatures Director: Saela Davis & Anna Rose Holmer Talent: Emily Watson, Paul Mescal, Aisling Franciosi Release Date: March 31 When Lankum released their sombre interpretation of The Wild Rover, they reframed a set of folk lyrics that roused pubs for generations. Ironically, its origins as a temperance song had all but vanished beneath the stomping chorus of ‘no, nay, never, no more.’ So, in the absence of that hook, the band essentially introduced to listeners the Prodigal Son all over again. Except now, the protagonist’s return felt less joyous, with his scandalous days lurking behind him like a sorrowful ghost. In God’s Creatures, directed by Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer, the Rover is similarly reappraised, with his homecoming told from his mother’s perspective. Set in a western fishing village, it follows Aileen (Emily Watson), the manager at a fish-processing plant, whose son Brian (Paul Mescal) has unexpectedly come home from Australia. As vague on why he returned as he is on why he migrated, Brian insists that he wants to revive the family’s defunct oyster-farming business. However, as he begins to build this new life, a local woman, Sarah (Aisling Franciosi) steps forward, accusing him of sexual assault. Desperate to see the good in Brian, Aileen provides him a false alibi. It isn’t that she believes in his innocence. Rather, she wants to believe in it. But, as her lie makes Sarah a pariah, Aileen is forced to question who her son truly is. God’s Creatures is a slow-burning study on the conspiracy of silence that allows abuse to persist within a community. Framed initially as the Prodigal Son’s redemption, the film almost encourages viewers to side with Brian, dismissing Sarah as a narrative hindrance. It is only as her agony seeps into the dream that we are made to see how reality is denied, if only just to protect the most romanticised version of a beloved tale. ML Pray for Our Sinners Director: Sinéad O’Shea Release Date: April 21 The harrowing story of our mother and baby homes is well documented. The tale that hasn’t been told, until now, is the degree of complicity ordinary people had – the choice to ignore what was happening in plain sight often coupled with the fear of a face-off with the Church. Sinéad O’Shea is a film-maker whose 2017 film A Mother Brings Her Son To Be Shot saw her peel away the layers of frustration with the peace dividend in the North through the story of a family. This time she returns to her hometown of Navan to unearth the resistance and succour offered by local doctors Paddy and Mary Randles. With a brilliant use of archival footage and incredibly moving interviews, O’Shea brings a deft and compassionate understanding to this tale of compassion. The rapport she has built with her subject matters over time is evident in the ease with which they address her by her first name. Her sensitivity behind the camera brings forth heartfelt emotion. We hear the stories from the likes of Betty who became pregnant at 18 and just “wanted to get away” from the “shame”, but also those of Norman who was a young lad lifted out of it by corporal punishment. The wounds may heal but the scars stay forever. We are reminded this was a time of moving statues and ‘Hello Divorce, Goodbye Daddy’ - a mixture of false hope and fear-mongering to keep a subservient populace under the mitre. One shocking moment shows Gay Byrne flippantly skirting over the front page story of Ann Lovett, a 15-year-old schoolgirl who died giving birth beside a grotto. But there are good people - the Randles in this instance - who risked ostracisation to come to the aid of those in need. Their gentle power is replicated in this work. MMD Pearl Director: Ti West Talent: Mia Goth Release Date: March 17 Meet me in the Bathroom Director: Will Lovelace & Dylan Southern Talent: The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LCD Soundsystem, The Strokes, Interpol. Release Date: March 10 Unveiled as a surprise, Pearl is the ‘origin story’ for director Ti West’s previous film, X (2022). Clever and sleazy, X benefitted from a unique gimmick – both the ‘final girl’ and her aged nemesis, Pearl, were played by the venturesome Mia Goth. That lent poignancy to its themes of youth and maturity, as well as intriguing ‘how did they do that’ moments when both Goths co-existed on-screen. Exploring the roots of its title character’s pathology, Pearl gives Goth only one character to play – but fear not, she makes a full meal of it. While X was an ensemble piece, Pearl – for which Goth shares a co-writing credit – is a one-woman show. Its wisp of a plot sees pig-tailed farm-girl Pearl – a curdled Dorothy Gale – seduced by the idea that she is meant for stardom. How far will she go in pursuit of her dream? The answer involves a pitchfork. As ever with West, a pleasure of Pearl is its precise style. After the amber-hued grindhouse of X, Pearl is a kind of Sirkian technicolor melodrama. The look is persuasive (as is the score by Tyler Bates and Tim Williams), though the distancing ‘film within a film’ artificiality may be an acquired taste. Still, when most genre cinema is a mess of hacked-together ‘trailer moments’, it’s a blessed thing to marinate in West’s world. And so to Goth. She certainly swings for the fences – imagine Shelley Duvall taking on the Jack Nicolson role in The Shining – but this correspondent has always found her more compelling at the chillier end of her register. Her commitment to the bit is unimpeachable, but the sidelong glance with which she regarded her ruined other ‘self’ in X said more than the ten-minute monologue she delivers here. Its aria of hysteria feels somewhat like a stunt. DT New York City is not just the greatest city on earth, but has also produced some of the greatest bands too. The Dolls, Blondie, The Heartbreakers, Talking Heads, Sonic Youth, I could go on. The turn of the millennium saw the simultaneous rise of bands like The Strokes, Interpol and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs who alongside others would form a sort of new new wave for the next decade. It was in the words of LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy …like a movement/Without the bother of the meaning. It was this ‘musical rebirth’, these bands and the electric, ceaseless city that begat them that formed the subject matter of Lizzy Goodman’s 2017 oral history of the same title. This film then, from directors Dylan Southern and Will Lovelace (Shut Up and Play the Hits) might be regarded as a second draft of history. Like the book there is no overarching authorial voice and little attempt at structure. I guess when you’re trying to describe the feeling of capturing lightening in a bottle, of bearing witness to cacophonous creation, that makes sense. The film rattles and lurches like the L Train, pausing to peer into moments in the musical lives of its subjects, only the horror of the 9/11 attacks halts the propulsive feel. That dark day, when presented, feels like an attack on the very things that make Rock and roll possible. The decade passes in a blur of infectious jittery jump-cuts and frequently stupendous live footage until before you know it it’s 2011 and uncool people are moving to Williamsburg, doubtless attracted by the precipitously rising rents and fermentation opportunities. Meet Me in the Bathroom might not be a great music documentary but it’s a great night out. Get loaded, bring your buddies and don’t regret the passing of things. CS 51