Bring Them Down
Barry Keoghan and Christopher Abbott in Bring Them Down
“Where there’s livestock, there’s deadstock.”
That truism, common among farmers, is spoken early in Bring Them Down and almost immediately proven right. Christopher Andrews’ gritty drama tells of an Irish blood feud between rival neighbors that goes back decades, but it’s the sheep that suffer most. When the Keeleys are accused of stealing a pair of them from the O’Sheas, the provocation sets off a chain of events that only grows more tragic with each escalation. Consider that fair warning before watching the film, which is a difficult sit despite the fine craftsmanship display from a debuting director and his leading man.
We first meet Michael O’Shea (Christopher Abbott, put to much better use than he was in Wolf Man) behind the steering wheel of a car without actually seeing him. The camera is fixed on his mother’s face as she tells him of her plan to leave his father, a revelation that causes him to drive faster and more recklessly as she divulges further information. “He terrifies me,” she says of his father Ray, and in that moment Michael does too. Both she and his girlfriend, sitting in the backseat, plead with him to stop — first calmly, then with growing panic as it dawns on them that their words are falling on deaf, enraged ears. Rather than show the crash, Andrews abruptly cuts to its aftermath: a roadside memorial for Michael's mother and the scars on his now ex-girlfriend’s face a few decades later. Those who commit the worst misdeeds rarely bear the brunt of the consequences.
Michael will rarely be in full control of himself and his actions for the remainder of our time with him, but Andrews always is. He has a steady directorial hand, a must when dealing with material that almost seems designed to drive viewers away. Bring Them Down is often brutal but never gratuitous in its portrayal of violence and vendettas. It’s mostly just sad.
The first time we hear the nearby Keeleys mentioned, it’s as “those bastards we share a hill with” — a vivid description from the housebound Ray (Colm Meaney) that suggests not only the two clans’ mutual enmity but also the fact that it’s been simmering for longer than any of them care to remember. That sense of time is further compounded when Ray says that their family hasn’t brought their animals down from the hills in 500 years. That’s a long time, and yet apparently a mere chapter of their extended family history. How much of that history involves the Keeleys is never revealed, but there’s clearly no love lost.
Michael initially makes for a frustrating protagonist. Though he has his heart in the right place, what he doesn’t seem to have is the will to perform anything more than a half measure. He can’t properly exact the vengeance most viewers will want him to after seeing what befalls his flock, nor can he tell his father — who’s even more bloodthirsty than the audience will be by this point — to let it go. We see most events twice, first from his perspective and then from the younger Keeley’s (Barry Keoghan). The more we learn of the situation, the less frustrated we are by Michael and the worse we feel for him.
Those who commit the worst misdeeds rarely bear the brunt of the consequences.
All of this takes place in the hilly Irish countryside, a place of rugged beauty that seems to drive its residents a little mad — maybe because it’s so secluded, or maybe because they can’t reconcile the splendor they look upon each morning with the drudgery that awaits them the rest of the day. When one character is asked where he would live if he could go anywhere, the best answer he can muster is Holland or Norfolk — not because they’re especially glamorous but because they’re flat and he’s tired of hills. Even the desire for something better has been deadened by years of the same old, same old.
Much is left unsaid in Bring Them Down, which is, of course, the problem. Michael never tells his father what caused the car crash that killed his mother, just as the Keeleys never come clean about whether or not they actually stole those two rams. The blood between them may not be as bad as it is between the Montagues and Capulets or the Hatfields and McCoys, but try telling that to the sheep.
There really were a lot of them.
There's never a bad time to revisit his films.
It's made just under $800 million at the box office.
Was this email forwarded to you? Subscribe here!
Movie Brief is a weekly movie review email.
Produced and written by Michael Nordine, powered by Optimism.
©2024 Michael Nordine & Optimism
3419 Via Lido, #657 Newport Beach, CA 92663
