Horseshoe

Chris O'Rourke
9 hours ago
5 min read

Neill Fleming, Carolyn Bracken, Eric O'Brien, Jed Murray in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

*****

Art is elevated by curious alchemies. That elusive X factor, a crackle of chemistry, the perfect light, chord, or brushstroke. Or by a holy alignment of cast, director(s) and screenplay. Alchemies realising something larger within the work. Like Horseshoe, the award winning, debut feature written by Adam O’Keeffe and directed by Edwin Mullane along with O’Keeffe. A taut tale set in the west of Ireland where four troubled siblings of the Canavan clan are given a twenty-four hour ultimatum following the reading of their late father’s will. A widowed patriarch whose ghost haunts his three sons and only daughter. Each in desperate need of redemption from a legacy of abuse that’s left them broke, bitter and estranged. Horseshoe delivering an emotional powerhouse weeks in the shooting and years in the making. Its core ensemble, wrought in the furnace of Dublin’s unforgiving theatre scene, displaying a near telepathic chemistry. Transforming Horseshoe into a divine cinematic experience, rich in dark magic and easy intensity. Made all the more resonant by the unapologetic economy of its telling.

Jed Murray , Neill Fleming, Eric O'Brien, Carolyn Bracken in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

Theatre aficionados might have spotted the unsubtle play on Corp Ensemble. A talented company of theatre mavericks who began life in The Viking Theatre in 2016. Self-funded, self-motivated, earnestly sincere, this scrappy bunch of can doers fought the unfunded odds in an effort to produce invigorating theatre, growing stronger and more capable with each new production. Until Covid and an impoverished theatre scene put paid to it all. Horseshoe reuniting several Corp Ensemble members whose shared history enlivens every scene. Irish cinema’s success recognising Irish theatre's failure. A medium where artists struggle to survive, let alone thrive.

Mary Murray in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

With understated elegance, Horseshoe begins as it means to proceed, with deceptive simplicity. Leaning into mainstream arthouse ethos, Jass Foley's shadows of isolation are burnished with bruised, rusted light. If not quite hope, then resilience. Or the possibility of hope. Anna Malarkey’s music, coupled with songs by John Francis Flynn, offering evocatively sensitive commentary. Enveloping Jed Murray’s psychically wounded Jer striding reflectively through fields and mountains. Jer’s loneliness reinforced by the arrival of company. A spellbinding Lalor Roddy as the obstreperous, demeaning patriarch, Colm. Less a character so much as a stream of characters. Roddy capturing Colm’s various relationships with his children with exquisite clarity. Ghost or projection, Colm’s confluence of a bellowing Bull McCabe and ratchety Bird sees Jer instantly shrivel, his hulking mass reduced to a hollowed husk. Murray’s Jer a walking wound without a shred of self pity. Exuding childlike embarrassment at the unexpected interruption by Mary Murray’s beguilingly loveable Toni. Two figures on a country road struggling to meet. One of many images pregnant with loneliness made deeper when pressed against the warmth of hope. Singular images set against a cold, lonely landscape a recurring visual motif, beautifully subverted in the film’s final, heartwarming moments. Landscape serving up tone and mood at once breathtaking, desolate, immutable.

Jed Murray and Lalor Roddy in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

Already it’s tempting to regard Horseshoe as reinforcing cliched, Irish stereotypes. Supernatural and psychological influences set against a familial history of whiskey fuelled violence. Like Eugene O’Neill, but with a picaresque backdrop. But O’Keeffe’s screenplay straddles a transitional cultural space. Sifting nuggets from the dross of Ireland’s Big House past and mixing them with elements from a gluten free, climate change, yoga practicing modernity. O’Keeffe’s language forged with muscular economy. Aphoristic, insightful; words pierce like phrased bullets fired with marksman precision. Words lesser things next to detailed performances wherein deeper truths reside. Such as Carolyn Bracken, evoking a peroxide Bette Davis, illuminating the screen with a lexicon of tones, expressions and gestures in which syllables and silence tell stories. Bracken’s chameleon talent evident in the touching reveal of the sarcastic Cass’s softer soul during a questionable yoga practice. Even with her back to camera Bracken mesmerises as the world weary mother and sister, beaten but not defeated. A woman whose worldly success outshines that of her brothers.

Lalor Roddy and Carolyn Bracken in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

Like the gormless hurler Evan. Eric O’Brien’s delightful concoction of Father Dougal and Lear’s perceptive fool. Evan’s childlike wisdom masking a hidden secret. It’s truth, apparent to all, hidden by a self denying innocence. Leading to a final confrontation as family and community collide in a beautifully exquisite resolution. The moment set alight by Neill Fleming’s tortured Niall. A dynamism of energy and wild, passionate laughter disguising ill concealed pain. A divorced father, trapped by the lawlessness of a blinded court system denying him access to his son, struggling with an indoctrinated urge to rage. His heart three parts love and a dynamite stick of anger likely to blow his, and every other world apart. Including that of Seán Doyle, superb as the good looking bad boy Ian. One of several supporting characters enriching Horseshoe’s intimate universe. Including John Connors in a brilliant comedic turn as the duplicitous Cormac, and Andy Crook in a juggling cameo.

Neill Fleming, Carolyn Bracken, John Connors, Jed Murray, Eric O'Brien in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

Drained of faith and disillusioned by family, Horseshoe’s detailed character studies suggest darkness is not the absence of light but the pathway towards it. Living a stunted existence, alive just enough to feel there must be more, the Canavan clan must seek redemption through the very people that wounded them most. Tempering pain with comedy, but never using comedy to mask its wounds, Horseshoe’s dark night of four souls confronts psychic demons and psychology wounds by plunging into the heart of darkness whilst remaining irresistibly lightweight. Resisting lazy positivity, its joyous truths and understated charm resonate powerfully as a result. Horseshoe cinema as soul catharsis, as crisp and refreshing as a clear, winter’s sunrise. Refusing to spoon feed, to dumb itself or its audience down, Horseshoe acknowledges its audience’s intelligence in allowing them to join the narrative dots. Never labouring points, never compromising, never condescending, its visual and narrative logic resists fluctuating intensities. Even as moments of rage, despair, or the need to cower beneath a table ensure you never settle into easy pessimism. The cry for joy and connection a beckoning backdrop that serves as both possibility and accusation.

Neill Fleming, Carolyn Bracken in Horseshoe. Photo, Jaro Waldeck

Where there’s a will there’s relatives. Where there’s a unique alignment of forged talent there’s art of staggering depth. For every accolade received, and those sure to come, Horseshoe deserves its recognition. For some it will not be enough. For others too much. Whatever is said, Horseshoe is a resoundingly brilliant debut. Winner of Best First Feature at the Galway Film Fleadh, Horseshoe goes on limited release nationwide from Friday, December 5th.