Bloody Irish revenge-thriller Bring Them Down mixes penance and pain

Courtesy MUBI.

There’s just something foreboding about the landscape of Ireland. Be it a history that includes generational strife, famine, or the numerous eire images conjured up in Irish folklore, it seems to be a place steeped with dread and malice among its picturesque scenery. Director Christopher Andrews’ Bring Them Down is a movie that won’t change that view but it does use the vistas and uneasy feelings to tackle a timely topic: sheepherding politics.

Oh and toxic masculinity. Mostly the latter.

In rural Ireland, Michael (Christopher Abbott) lives a solitary life as a sheep herder. The last of his line, he spends his time working and caring for his ailing father, Ray (Colm Meaney). Perched in his chair, he purses sheep trading websites and berates Michael for seemingly minor transgressions. It’s enough to wonder why someone would choose to live this existence. For Michael, it’s something like a form of penance. 20 years earlier he survived a car accident that took the life of his mother and disfigured his girlfriend. And an incident that has left him harboring a secret ever since.

One routine morning, Michael and Ray’s neighbor—and main sheep adversary—Gary (Paul Ready) calls to say that his son, Jack (Barry Keoghan), found two of their sheep dead. When asked for them to be returned, Gary says Jack has already disposed of the bodies. It’s a ruse Michael quickly susses out at a livestock auction that afternoon and disgraces Gary in the process. After a tense chase between the men ends in a car wreck, Michael is brought face-to-face with Jack’s mom, Caroline (Nora Jane Noone), his ex who was in the fateful car crash. When she attempts to ask what’s going on, the men merely shrug and simper. Stewing and plotting how to get one over on the other leads to a series of escalating events that threaten to destroy the entire community in the process.

Though it starts as something of a slow burn, Bring Them Down quickly finds itself in a realm adjacent to that of a revenge thriller. This is a world where silence becomes a thing of menace. Full of stern stares, furtive glances, and the clinching of fists. The animosity between the men is palpable in a way that most films externalize, but Andrews and cinematographer Nick Cooke simply observe. Creating a sense of dread that only builds alongside composer Hannah Peel’s percussive score that feels as if it were heralding the coming apocalypse.

As dire and moody as things get, there’s also a twisted sense of humor at play. Andrews peppers his script with laugh-out-loud beats (keep a keen eye on Ray’s computer) that only further the uncomfortability factor as the story rolls on. There isn’t enough to call this a dark comedy, but the attempt at some levity is appreciated. Especially how dire things eventually get.

Around the halfway mark of Bring Them Down, the film makes a bold narrative twist. The decision to suddenly shift POVs, though, is important in exploring the dangers that generational trauma can lead to. While the focus itself may not be evil or dark, the path it follows leaves a trail of bodies in its wake. Where the only perceived form of survival is vengeance.

What makes it all endlessly engaging is the superb acting on display. Everyone who appears on screen is doing awards-caliber work. Whenever Keoghan and Abbott are onscreen together, you know it’s best to hold your breath. Abbott, in particular, flexes a serious dedication to his craft, learning to speak Gaelic for the film. Keoghan, on the other hand, continues his knack for turning anything into a stomach-churning beat. Here, he makes the mundane act of cracking and eating a hard-boiled egg a thing of menace. Meanwhile, Meaney, Noone, and Ready might receive less screen time than the others, but they are all equally as compelling in their arcs.

Bring Them Down doesn’t attempt to do anything too showy in its tale of how rage and suppression can eat away at a person. Instead, Andrews attempts to capture everything matter-of-factly. Forces his audience to silently watch on, as anger and toxicity twist a person into a shell of a human, regardless of how it hurts others. Proof that some men would rather allow a peaceful countryside to be drenched in blood than talk about their feelings.