When a British writer/director takes on the true story of an Irish rap group whose unifying theme and unlikely rise to fame centers on the preservation of the Irish Gaelic language, you kind of hold your breath and hope for the best. But one of this year’s breakout success stories out of Sundance, Kneecap, from filmmaker Rich Peppiatt, is an absolute high-wire act that tells a very funny and sometimes poignant tale of rebellion, cultural pride, and raging-hot defiance.
The group Kneecap (playing themselves) begin in the uncertain times in post-Troubles Belfast, Northern Ireland, where two childhood best friends Liam (rap name: Mo Chara) and Naoise (Móglaí Bap) started out as smalltime drug dealers. Naoise's supposedly dead father was once a higher-up in the IRA, which took up the cause of being allowed to speak native Irish (which was banned by the British for many years) with the fervor of a civil rights cause, because that’s exactly what it was for them. Meanwhile, Liam’s troubles are a little more personal, as he’s dating a Protestant girl and feels wildly conflicted.
The film has the feel of an issue-driven protest work, and it’s not surprising that the group rap in Irish Gaelic, with only the occasional English word slipped in. In more ways than one (especially when it comes to the drug content), Kneecap bares more than a passing resemblance to Trainspotting, but with politics taking the place of the junkie lifestyle. When the duo meets Irish-language teacher JJ, he decides to put some richer music behind their tracks and ends up becoming the nerdier third member, DJ Provaí, who wears an Irish-flag ski mask to hide his face, lest he get found out and fired for being so rampantly anti-British.
Doing some of his best and scarily passionate work in years, Michael Fassbender shows up as Naoise’s thought-to-be dead father, who is proud of his son for not only taking up one of his causes but for making protecting the native language something that feels modern and not simply an act of holding onto the past. And let’s not forget: a lot of Kneecap’s music completely kills, and it comes as no surprise that the group is wildly popular in most parts of Ireland.
By having the actual performers play themselves, Kneecap blurs the line between art and reality. But it’s also a stinging indictment of the last vestiges of British imperialism and the rising tide to end it once and for all. The film is screamingly funny, has a drug-fueled energy that resembles chaos quite often, and features an emotional core that kept me rooting for these crazy kids. I have no idea how audiences outside of Ireland will respond to this, but I got incredibly caught up in this good fight.
The film is now playing in theaters.
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