Belfast is a semi-autobiographical coming of age story written and directed by Kenneth Branagh that he has called his most personal film. It stars Caitriona Balfe, Judi Dench, Jamie Dornan, Ciaran Hinds, Colin Morgan and newcomer Jude Hill as a nine-year-old boy modeled after Branagh. The film had its world premiere at the 48th Telluride Film Festival and won the People’s Choice Award at this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. It has received wide praise from critics and audiences alike. I, however, am not one of those people. The film is certainly beautiful in its stark black and white and does contain some memorable moments. But in the end, I felt as if I’d missed something. I kept waiting for a moment in which I’d finally realize why people have been raving about it. And it just didn’t occur. The memoir is too contextually vague, and its central character is a bit too saccharine and not given the strong point of view he should have.
The film begins in color with expansive, sweeping views of a contemporary Belfast. There is no war, no terror, just a gorgeous Ireland. We are then taken to a wall whereupon the camera tracks upward, a title card for 1969 appears, the color changes to black and white, and the camera tracks back down on the other side of the wall. We are treated to a scene of complete perfection – children running happily in the streets, parents serenely busy with their own tasks, Van Morrison crooning away on the soundtrack. It could be the opening of a Disney musical it’s so perfect. And I did half wonder if we were going to see everyone start dancing. We track to nine-year-old Buddy (Hill) who is so immersed in his sword and shield game that he doesn’t hear his mom calling him to tea. Buddy is absolutely cherub adorable, and it makes sense. He’s got so much protection from the adults around him that he can afford to be blissfully unaware. It’s how we all want to remember our own childhoods and how we hope our children look back on theirs.
Life of course doesn’t work out perfectly and fittingly, this scene is interrupted by a violent mob of people who burst onto the street, throw rocks through windows, set off car bombs and create a chaos so great that Buddy’s Ma (Balfe) divests Buddy of his shield and uses it as protection as she ushers him inside the house. His imaginative game is no more. It’s a fantastic scene with strong symbolism, a sense of urgency for safety, and juxtaposition between real threat and the play world of a child.
These are the best minutes in the film. I only understood the edges of what was happening with the mob. I didn’t come to the film with a firm grasp on the historical importance of The Troubles and left without learning a thing. The fuzziness of this context may be intentional because the film is supposed to be told through Buddy’s point of view. Because he is a child, he obviously doesn’t have the full picture of events. But this lack of knowledge is incredibly frustrating for a film viewer who only can gather that there was a rift between Protestants and Catholics. Why that occurred is never answered – and that’s irresponsible filmmaking.
Perhaps this is what makes writing a memoir so difficult. We have our own perception of how events occurred and that very personal lens is hard to bring to an audience effectively. I just felt there were missing pieces, pieces which Branagh may have assumed were there but are not. I also did not feel as if I was truly watching this film from Buddy’s point of view. Clearly the film’s intention is to put you in his shoes. Some scenes do this incredibly well, such as those that show Buddy watching movies in the cinema. During these moments, we see films such as Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in full color, significant of the strong, colorful memory Buddy has. There are delightful little bits of movie magic in which Buddy’s family instinctually moves forward in their seats as they watch the car careen off a cliff and embarrassingly laugh when it doesn’t crash into the water but instead glides seamlessly upon it. But at other times, we see events and conversations that don’t include Buddy. And when they do include him, he never really loses the adorable look he has at the beginning. The small mischief he gets in is also just cute, not much more. You never get the sense that he is in any real danger or has learned any life-changing lesson while the supposedly turbulent Troubles are outside his very doorstep. His relationship with his dying grandfather is certainly endearing and the moment when he asks his father whether it’s okay that the girl he likes is Catholic is probably the most touching in the film.
But these more tender and well-filmed scenes are, in the end, disappointing since the rest of the film contains strange segues and somewhat wooden performances. For instance, Pa’s bursting into song at what I presume is his father’s funeral is bizarre given the rest of his performance, and the cut that precedes the scene in no way prepares the viewer for such a change. I didn’t even get the sense that Buddy’s parents really loved each other, so estranged they seemed to be throughout much of the film.
I really wanted to love this film. It has fantastic actors, beautiful cinematography, and glimpses of a great story about the people who left Belfast and those who stayed, but the perspective fails to create a truly moving memoir. If you want a film that encapsulates a child’s point of view and tells a more believable coming of age story, you’re better off watching Jojo Rabbit, To Kill a Mockingbird, Cinema Paradiso, Minari, The Kid, or Life is Beautiful.
Rated R with a run time of 1 hr 37 min
