Movie Reviews
Ballywalter review: Patrick Kielty is a revelation and Seána Kerslake exemplary in this moving drama
The story goes that when director Prasanna Puwanarajah offered Kielty the joint lead in this exquisite, economic drama, he thought it was a joke. The Co Down man had never acted in a film before. People knew him as a professional clown, a radio presenter, someone who, every now and then, makes a decent TV show. Why, thought Kielty, would they pick him to star in a moody, low-key indie about a couple of lost souls? Why not?
Filmed in between lockdowns, Ballywalter provided a much-needed boost for everyone involved. Kielty, a novice, brought his A-game – so, too, did his exemplary co-star Seána Kerslake.
Together they created something wonderful, something unique, something that deserves to find an audience. Nearly a million people tuned in to watch Kielty’s Late Late Show debut last week – will those same viewers show up in cinemas for Ballywalter? I hope so.
Our story begins in a taxi. Eileen (Kerslake) is in a bit of a rut. The only thing she hates more than ferrying yappy strangers around Ballywalter is making lattes for ungrateful customers at the local coffee shop. These are decent jobs, but it isn’t how Eileen pictured her future.
A 20-something university dropout with a story to tell and zero interest in telling it, she was supposed to do something else, something bigger. She should be starting a new life for herself in London. Instead, she’s back in her hometown of Ballywalter, Co Down, where she drinks too much and is in debt to a rotten ex-boyfriend.
To make matters worse, she’s also trying to avoid a nasty delivery driver whose motorbike she ran over. Hard times, and the home situation (a deceased father, a pregnant sister and a worrisome mother) is getting harder.
An intervention is required. Enter Shane (Kielty), a middle-aged man on a mission. To Eileen, Shane is just another face, another fare. But Shane needs help. He, too, is back in Ballywalter after some time away. He has his reasons. For a start, Shane is recently separated from his wife.
To mend his broken heart, he enrols in a weekly stand-up comedy course. But there is a catch: the classes are 40 minutes away in Belfast, and Shane no longer drives, which means he needs someone to help him on his way. Eileen is that someone.
Their initial meeting is tense. Shane sits in the back with his headphones on; Eileen refuses to book his fares in advance. Eventually, these troubled, tortured souls share with one another the stories behind their sadness. Things get complicated.
With just 89 minutes on the clock, Ballywalter doesn’t mess about. These kinds of set-ups are tricky for everyone involved. The balance needs to be just right. Too much dialogue, and the film risks talking itself into a corner; too sentimental and you might alienate the viewer. It needs to be funny, not cheesy – sad, but never manipulative. Puwanarajah’s film hits the sweet spot.
Armed with a moving, meaningful screenplay by Stacey Gregg, Ballywalter speaks only when it needs to. It is, at its core, a refreshingly honest tale about depression, about what happens when the light begins to fade.
It’s about being stuck. Some of us know what that feels like, and Ballywalter applies delicacy and charm in all the right places. There are noisy, comical interludes (FYI, Shane is keen on dad jokes) and raw, emotional payoffs, but this tender, thoughtful drama works hard to earn them.
Tremendous performances help. Kerslake is every bit as good as you’d expect; Kielty is a revelation. One could argue that he is used to playing the part of a comic, but that’s not what Puwanarajah’s film asks of him. Instead, it asks him to portray a man who knows what he needs to do to fix his life, but can’t quite bring himself to do it.
It’s a remarkable turn – steady, natural, note-perfect. To these ears, there’s little wrong with Kerslake’s Northern accent, and the talented Dubliner delivers a controlled, charismatic turn as a young woman who’ll do anything to avoid the truth. Together, our star performers play a blinder. In a word? Unmissable.
Four stars