NEW YORK (AP) â âTime be flyinâ," itâs said in Martin McDonaghâs Itâs a sentiment shared by McDonagh and his two stars, Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, who have reteamed 14 years after McDonaghâs pitch-black feature debut,
âIt feels like not two days of passing,â McDonagh said, shaking his head, on a recent fall day in New York while Farrell and Gleeson, sitting beside him, eagerly agree.
âIt feels like we just went back in the room and said, âItâs going to be a good one, isnât it?â says Gleeson.
The 2008 âIn Bruges,â which began the celebrated British-Irish playwright's transition from stage to screen, was a memorable dark comedy of two hitmen holed up in the medieval Belgian city. For Farrellâs character, who has just accidentally shot a boy on his first job, Bruges is a purgatory. âThe Banshees of Inisherinâ is likewise set in a specific locale: the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland. And a sense of existential doom is again palpable.
But the feud this time requires no guns and the rural 1920s backdrop is even more picturesque. After years of friendship and regular trips to the pub together, Colm Doherty (Gleeson) has decided that he just doesnât like PĂĄdraic SĂșilleabhĂĄin (Farrell) anymore. This confounds PĂĄdraic, who persistently tries to reingratiate himself to Colm. Eventually, Colm decides to make his demand for peace gruesomely clear.
âPeople go, âYou canât just make a film about a guy who doesnât want to be friends with another guy,â" says Farrell. âWell, that's how.â
âThe Banshees of Inisherin,â which opens in select theaters Friday before expanding nationwide, is a story of friends falling out made by a trio with abiding affection for one another. McDonagh wrote it with Gleeson and Farrell in mind. He first sent the two actors a draft seven years ago. (âThat was crap,â says McDonagh. âI loved it,â says Farrell.) He later returned to it, preserving only the first five pages and digging deeper into the pair's relationship.
McDonagh, Gleeson and Farrell's pleasure in each other's company was easy to see when they convened at a hotel on the Upper West Side shortly after . The three had just stepped away from individual interviews over Zoom. âTogether again!â they exclaimed.
âFrom the start, there was a deep sense of kinship and an understanding of each other,â Farrell says. âIn a strange way, I understand myself more through Martin and his mind and his heart and his work. And I understand myself more through my interactions with Brendan.â
âI think we all, basically, are romantics," adds Gleeson. "Weâre not blind, either. We know the other side of the coin.â
âIn Brugesâ was well-received at the time and launched McDonagh as a filmmaker. ( : âEvery once in a while you find a film like this, that seems to happen as it goes along, driven by the peculiarities of the characters.â) But it also has only grown in stature over the years, and it remains a touchstone for all three. Farrell, who was then adjusting to the onset of fame, credits the film with reorienting his career.
âIt meant a lot to me. I had genuinely lost sight of the fun and exploration and the journey of discovery that what we do for a living can be and should be. I was just going through the motions. It was at a stage of my life where there was a lot of change personally, and as a result of that professionally,â says Farrell. âThe pilot light got ignited by âIn Bruges.ââ
âBansheesâ preserves some of the âBrugesâ dynamic between Farrell and Gleeson. Gleeson again plays the more erudite of the two. Farrell is sweeter, less intelligent. There are other connections, too. Itâs a throwaway line but Farrell begs Gleeson to go down to the pub in âIn Bruges.â Gleesonâs response: âNo.â
From the start, their banter together had a natural rhythm. âAn instantaneous mainlining into headquarters,â says Gleeson.
âI think part of it is â Martin has the line â that weâre an odd-looking couple,â adds Farrell. âWhat people see here are two people that look like theyâre very different, sound like theyâre very different and maybe even feel very different, and yet somehow thatâs never articulated, we find out that theyâre not so different, at all.â
In âBanshees,â Colmâs abrupt plea for solitude stems from his being tired of âaimless chatting.â Feeling time slipping away, he wants to devote himself to writing music. (The song he's writing is titled âThe Banshees of Inisherin.â) Their discord has symbolism; the Irish Civil War is raging on the mainland. But it most reflects the struggle of an artist, perhaps a self-serious one, to balance work with the demands of social convention.
âAimless chatting,â of course, is no small part of movie promotion â especially for a critically acclaimed film like âThe Banshees of Inisherin" forecast to play a major role through awards season. McDonaghâs previous film, and, this time, Farrell's performance . The trio pledged that this chat, at least, wasnât aimless but, as Farrell said, âgood, normal chatting.â
Still, itâs clear that the conflict in âBansheesâ is one McDonagh feels, himself.
âTime slips away with irrelevant nonsense all the time," McDonagh says. "A long time ago I said: I have to write one thing a year. If it takes two weeks, the rest of the year is free for anything. But you have to stick to that.â
Reading, he grants, has gotten harder to make time for because of the Internet and phones. âA curse!â chimes Farrell. But the pandemic and the yearslong process to bring his last play, to Broadway, has led McDonagh to turn his focus entirely to films.
âThat I canât show you how good we got 20 years ago is unfair,â he says. âItâs a question I havenât come to a concrete conclusion about. But thereâs also a lack of democracy about theater. Itâs too expensive and not enough people can see it. Unless you live in New York or London, you probably wonât see my stuff. Whereas a movie, not only is it going to last 20 years, 100 years if itâs a good one, you can get it anywhere. You can get it in Kansas City. You can get it in Ulaanbaatar. Thatâs democratic.â
âActually, I donât think we open in Kansas City,â Farrell adds, grinning.
But the 52-year-old McDonagh, like Gleesonâs Colm, is increasingly â âalways, daily,â he says â focused on what heâs going to leave behind, what work of his might endure.
âIf thereâs, like, 25, 30 years left of oneâs life, I think maybe 20 good films,â McDonagh says hopefully. âIâm not swearing off plays. Iâm pretty sure I will do at least one or two more. But I think in the next bunch of years itâs going to be films. I think COVID has solidified that idea. I can go back and watch âIn Brugesâ now and be overjoyed at what we captured. Thatâs why Iâm leaning toward movies.â
With that kind of long-term plan, a trilogy for Farrell and Gleeson could be natural. Where next? Venice? Iceland?
âIâve got no idea what it will be when we get together again. But I think youâre right, that Iâll find a place, Iâll see the town and that will tell us the story,â says McDonagh, musing on the geographical possibilities. âMaybe itâs the American West.â
âThe Geezers of ReykjavĂk!â exclaims Farrell.
âI'm in. I'm in. I'm in," says Gleeson, cackling. "Which geezer do I play?â
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Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
