Belfast Goes Hollywood

When traveling up the M1 from Dublin on the way to Belfast, the best way to confirm the exact moment you’ve crossed the border is to watch for a switch in cellular service providers. If you’re not looking at your phone, a bit further down the motorway you can observe when road signs change from kilometers to miles. If you’re on the lookout for a security checkpoint, or even a “Welcome to Northern Ireland” sign, you’re not going to find one.

My first visit to the “North of Ireland” – as some locals call it – was in 2014. Like most Americans, my perception of the region was quite antiquated. It consisted of a hazy recollection of old news reports of bombings, rolling tanks and prison hunger strikes. These mental images were only reenforced by a few critically-acclaimed movies, often starring Daniel Day-Lewis.

I bring up an uneventful border crossing because it’s symbolic of the understated yet dramatic evolution of this peculiar place. While the rest of the world went about its business after the Good Friday Agreement was signed in 1998, so did the people of Northern Ireland.  The great progress they have made in over two decades has been accomplished in plain sight – and yet largely unnoticed. When you enter Northern Ireland, you don’t even realize it. It looks like anywhere else on the island.

Once unimaginable, the city of Belfast is now a trendy tourist destination with a thriving restaurant scene. The technology sector is attracting U.S. companies and the jobs that come with them. It’s been a genuine renaissance. A generation of children have been born and have come of age in this new environment. This is not their parents’ Northern Ireland.

Of course, healing from such a past will leave scars. Legacy politics are such that tensions, both real and imagined, lie beneath the surface. Brexit has complicated Northern Ireland’s growth trajectory and outsiders – especially in the media – are quick to paint a narrative of impending doom. Some who live there are vested in that perception, but the friends I’ve made and the people I’ve worked with over the past eight years don’t share that view. Catholic or Protestant.

To those who only knew Belfast during the Troubles, I imagine if they were to return there now – after 30 years away – it would feel like leaving a Kansas dustbowl upon a tornado and landing in the Emerald City.

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I have to believe Kenneth Branagh had The Wizard of Oz in mind while conceptualizing his film Belfast.

The movie begins in color with an opening shot of Samson and Goliath, the giant twin gantry cranes that dwarf the city. As native son Van Morrison sings of a brand-new story, the sequence runs through modern day shots of the reborn city. As we travel to the working-class neighborhood setting of his childhood, we zoom in on a wall mural and then pan up and into the past. It’s now August 1969. It’s a bustling block, but now viewed in crisp black and white.

The story revolves around Buddy, our nine-year-old protagonist (and Branagh avatar) whose life is upended when the Troubles literally explode upon his close-knit block during the 1969 riots.

But this is not a gritty docudrama or biopic about that time. Nor does Branagh’s film provide any insight on the history or politics that led to that moment. If you’re expecting a backdrop of rubble and shattered glass, there is no shortage of films that more accurately display the blood, horror, hatred and violence during those years.

(Spoilers ahead, but only for anyone completely unfamiliar with Kenneth Branagh’s life and career. The resolution of the primary plot conflict is obvious).

Belfast is more like a memory play. It’s an examination of what formulates a person’s connection to place and the emotions triggered by the prospect of leaving the only home you’ve ever known. In that context, the film is universal. Especially to anyone who remembers what it was like to be uprooted at a young age, or perhaps more so, a parent that has tried to communicate such news to their child.

The film is also about family, specifically Branagh’s family, as seen through the eyes of a child who lacks understanding of the circumstances that surround him.  Buddy is, in essence, a benevolent yet unreliable narrator. He is either participating or within earshot of every conversation. Just as the setting is an idealized version of Branagh’s childhood block, so is the portrayal of his family and nine-year-old stand-in.

For me, this justifies some of Branagh’s surreal directorial choices of presenting the characters in a pristine setting, reflective — yet removed — from what such a place would have looked like at the time. The players are almost always bathed in bright sunlight either in immaculate homes or clean, dry streets. The neighborhood looks like a European version of Courthouse Square on the Universal Studios backlot. Belfast finally goes Hollywood! (I also forgive the curious juxtaposition of the  “Everlasting Love” scene).

Branagh’s approach brings the characters to the forefront, free of distraction, again much like a play. And as an actor himself, he clearly provides each of the talented players a scene or two in which they can flex their individual chops.

The cast is superb, but for me Ciarán Hinds steals every scene in which he appears. His grandfather character is the heart of the film and he, and newcomer Jude Hill, beautifully portray the unique bond that can only exist between a grandfather and grandson. Hinds gives the type of performance that is often awarded the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, and I will be rooting for that outcome.

Of course, the movie hinges on the child actor at the center of the film. The wrong kid can sink a movie. But Hill was truly excellent. His wide-eyed adoration of his family, quick wit and joy for life were infectious. The Christmas conversation scene with his gorgeous yet convincing parents (played by Caitríona Balfe and Jamie Dornan) was heartbreaking and exceptional.

Belfast is, by no means, a perfect movie. I thought some of the scenes were a bit too on the nose (did the drunk aunt really have to sing Danny Boy?) and it walks the fine line of sentiment, between poignant and hokey. But for the most part, I understand why Branagh made the choices he did, which is to present the case for why you wouldn’t want to leave a place in the midst of a violent civil conflict.

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As for the ending, the family obviously leaves Belfast.

As the door closes on the film, we complete the bizarro Oz effect – reverting back from black and white into color. A closing dedication is offered: “To those that stayed. For those that left. And for those that were lost.”

While Buddy/Branagh had no agency over his family’s decision to leave Northern Ireland for England, the film leaves no doubt that its creator still suffers from a sense of survivor’s guilt. He went on to have a wildly successful life and career that probably would not have happened if his family remained.

That said, the film is a testament to the people and place in which his foundation was formed. You could equally argue that Kenneth Branagh wouldn’t have had the life he led in England if not for being Kenny from Belfast.