The Ruttledges are supremely gracious about the intrusions of Patrick and his friends despite coming off poorly in the habitual sparring of the bored seniors. The protagonists’ arc then is one of being whittled away by this golden-hued environment, brought down and around to it. Away from their young notions of life in the city, perhaps forever. But there’s no great drama to be had from their adaption to the remote country. The film is also lashed invisibly to the book, with sensitivity to the source draining opportunities to mount something with more widespread appeal. As a result, it doesn’t feel like it’s moving. The narrative can initially feel listless despite the wealth of low-key detail pulsing through it.
To watch this film does demand attention. We are the Ruttledges, essentially outside the place. That is poetic, but it is also alienating. And, while Collins and co-writer Eamon Little have reworked semi-holy material with care and humor, much still feels unrevealed to us.
“…a sincere and inspired tribute to a world worth discovering, just like the book…”
That aside, this is an outstanding tribute to the book. A lot of McGahern’s faultless prose makes it to the screen intact, whether as the sweetest dialog you’ll hear all year or through Joe’s vivid narration on the seasons and the land. Speaking of which, Richard Kendrick’s cinematography allows for a lavish and welcome portrayal of the region in the book, making use of Loch Nafooey near Galway to replicate the hinterlands of Fenagh.
It’s hard not to recommend this film. However, I sensed a more hungry ‘Hollywood’ version after watching it. Perhaps inspired by the shock of The Banshees of Inisherin’s brush with Best Picture. This other sacrilegious film is a reskin of McGahern’s book into a Richard Curtis rom-com, with a pretty young couple driven mad by a cast resembling an ultra-intrusive human hedgerow. Would such desecrations have served to pass McGahern onto a wider audience? I couldn’t help but wonder. Collins captures some deliciously broad comic moments himself, and McGahern’s fine book would have withstood such perversions with the stoicism of a dolmen anyway.
As it is, this is a sincere and inspired tribute to a world worth discovering, just like the book.
"…Whole passages of McGahern’s faultless prose make it to the screen intact, whether as the sweetest dialog you’ll hear all year, or through ... vivid narration on the seasons and the land"
