There is a scene in the first five minutes of the film ‘Belfast’, a scene which shows things will never be the same again. The setting is an estate of terrace houses, mostly grey – the film’s in black and white – and there’s loads of noise and loads of friendliness – the film opens with a Van Morrison song, ‘coming down with joy’ – and Buddy, a nine-year-old boy, is in a crowd of children, playing warrior with a girl about his age, Buddy having commandeered the top of his family’s metallic litter bin as a shield and his mother is calling him from a few streets away for tea; the call being transmitted along the narrow streets by neighbours to Buddy and Buddy is laughing and joking with the adults about slaying dragons, as he ambles back to his house, carrying his shield. It’s friendly, in a word – it’s community. And then: silence.
And from the silence, as Buddy’s gaze circles around, it suddenly is no longer friendly. There’s people filling the top of the street about twenty meters from him and there’re angry words, pleas, shouting, shrieking, screaming, people throwing bricks, bottles, people with picks, an incendiary device goes off, a deluge of fire spreads as the crowd rushes down and Buddy is crying for Mammy who’s rushing towards him, screaming for him. There’s loads of screaming, swearing, windows breaking, panic, people falling, as Buddy’s mum grabs him, the shield, now in her hands, becomes a proper shield, blocking the stones and bottles that are flying all around. It’s a riot.
Belfast, 1969, but perhaps significantly the date is also shown: August 15th – the Catholic feast of the Assumption of Mary, Mother of God. That reads like a day to honour the mother.
The backdrop is the Troubles but the Troubles is not what the film is about. And that has caused criticism from some critics; that the film is therefore unsubstantial, that it’s unabashedly nostalgic, unabashedly feel-good, shamelessly Oscar-bait – i.e. deliberately designed to win the big prizes at the Oscars.
The film is presented through one perspective only, nine-year-old Buddy’s which is related to its writer and director, Kenneth Branagh’s memories of childhood, and particularly his love for movies. Going to the movies is magic to Buddy; the movies in colour present a dazzling contrast to the monochrome all around. And what 60s boy wouldn’t be enthralled by Raquel Welch is a furry bikini in One Million Years B.C.? It’s education for the boys, explains Pa (Jamie Dornan) to Mum (Caitríona Balfe). There’s also a terrific montage around “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”
The family are cute, particularly the grandpa (Ciarán Hinds) and grandma (Judi Dench). There’s much humour; sadness doesn’t linger. Towards the end, a funeral is followed immediately by a terrific rendition of “Everlasting Love” sung by Pa and though Buddy (Jude Hill) tries his best to influence things, it’s not his call. For just as Mum saves him at the start, she’ll make the decision to leave Belfast to go to where the work is for Pa for that’s where the safety is, so young Buddy says goodbye to his young Catholic girlfriend. Before the Troubles, children ran into and out of one another’s houses, regardless of whether catholic or protestant, a point reinforced by Pa as he reassures Buddy that religion doesn’t matter, that even if his girl is a vegetarian antichrist, so long as she’s kind.
‘Belfast’ is not about Troubles, rather it’s about the magic of childhood and the magic of movies.
