This is an advanced review from the London Film Festival. Belfast opens in the US on Nov. 12 and in the UK on Feb. 25, 2022.
Having plundered Shakespeare, Disney, Marvel, and most recently Agatha Christie for material, director Kenneth Branagh heads closer to home for new movie Belfast, crafting a film about his childhood in Northern Ireland, which played out as sectarian violence was tearing the region apart. The result is Branagh’s most personal film to date, and one of his very best.
Belfast begins in the present, the sun shining as Van Morrison sings, and we’re presented with a whistle-stop tour of Northern Ireland’s capital. The only sign of trouble/The Troubles is a mural featuring masked men, which the camera pans above as color turns to black and white, and we’re transported to a street in the center of the city on Aug. 15, 1969.
Kids are laughing and kicking a ball, or fighting with makeshift swords and shields, the pictures presenting an idyllic vision of childhood. But a blast of mortars and firebombs breaks that spell, as a violent mob invades the street and orders all Catholics out of what they’ve deemed to be a Protestant neighborhood, the perpetrators adding “if you talk to the police we’ll be back for you too.”
Confusion and chaos briefly reign, then in a flash everything changes. Barricades go up, tanks and armed soldiers patrol the streets, and freedom is suddenly a thing of the past. It’s a startling opening sequence, and one that sets an ominous tone for what’s to follow.
Yet while that tension simmers beneath the surface throughout proceedings, the bulk of Belfast is far gentler, being a coming-of-age tale very much based on Branagh’s youth. His celluloid surrogate is Buddy – played with a combination of mischief and smarts by newcomer Jude Hill – a normal 9-year-old who loves his family, football, and films. And we view this changing world through his eyes, metaphorically, and sometimes literally as Branagh frequently stations his camera at a kid’s eye level, to truly place us in Buddy’s shoes.
The youngster tries to make sense of what’s happening by eavesdropping on his Pa (50 Shades of Grey’s Jamie Dornan) and Ma (Outlander’s Caitriona Balfe), but they don’t have the answers. Pa’s building work takes him away from the family for weeks on end, and when he’s home, Dad finds himself torn between doing what he deems to be right, and protecting his family from the horrors that now surround them. Meanwhile, Ma is struggling to make ends meet, drowning in debt, hiding from the rent man, and feeling like she’s raising her children alone.
It’s through their plight that Branagh tackles the political, religious, and financial plights faced by both his own family, and the households they lived alongside. There are times when these scenes slip into melodrama, especially when money becomes the subject of their arguments. But the writer-director also uses sentiment as a weapon, most notably during Buddy’s scenes with grandparents Pop (Ciaran Hinds) and Granny (Judi Dench).
These are the film’s quietest moments, with the child asking for help with his maths homework, or advice for how to impress the girl he’s crushing on. And the grandparents are beautifully played by the actors, with Hinds delivering life lessons and homespun wisdom with real warmth and charm. But they are also where Branagh vents his frustration with the ever-worsening situation. “There’s only one answer” Buddy states mid-way through the movie. “If that were true” comes the response from Pop, “people wouldn’t be blowing themselves up all across town.”
Aside from the object of his affections, Buddy’s other obsession is cinema, inspiring some of the film’s most autobiographical scenes. A trip to see Raquel Welch in One Million Years BC clearly helps the lad through puberty, while Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ignites his imagination, the film’s color breaking through Belfast’s stark black-and-white palette. A festive theater visit is a glimpse at things to come, while Buddy’s beloved Thor comic is a sly nod to Branagh’s MCU future.
TV also helps him navigate life, though not grim news broadcasts about “the explosive situation in Northern Ireland,” which Buddy ignores in favor of playing with toy cars. Rather, it’s the westerns he watches to learn something of the ways of the world, including The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and High Noon, though the latter foreshadows the film’s climax in heavy-handed fashion.
That finale drives the family to a potentially violent crossroads, but beyond condemning the campaign of intimidation that engulfed the city – represented by Colin Morgan’s terrifying Billy Clanton demanding “cash or commitment” to the cause – Belfast avoids taking sides, and works hard to remain even-handed. So when Catholicism is said to be the religion of fear, Branagh follows that proclamation with a Protestant priest delivering a sermon that’s pure fire and brimstone. His words terrify poor Buddy, but also inspire one of the film’s funniest moments.
It’s these episodic slices of life that truly elevate Belfast. From dancing in the street and cooking an “Ulster Fry” to playing Subbuteo and opening presents on Christmas morning, they are glimpsed memories that Branagh clearly treasures, beautifully photographed by the filmmaker’s long-time cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos.
His inspired use of focus, wide shots, and depth of field bring each remembrance to life in spellbinding fashion. All the while, the music of Van Morrison – including hits like Warm Love, Jackie Wilson Said, Days Like These, and Dark Side of the Street – capture the mood, underscore Buddy’s optimism, and successfully marry Branagh’s words with Zambarloukos’s visuals.
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