‘The Banshees of Inisherin’: Inside the Most Beautiful, Bizarre Movie Shoot Ever

If you were visiting the West Coast of Ireland last fall and found yourself on either Inishmore in the Aran Islands or Achill, there is a good chance you would’ve seen Colin Farrell jogging to the nisherin-is-colin-farrell-at-his-very-best">Banshees of Inisherin set wearing mint green short shorts.

Alas, I was a year too late, but I did experience other impressive sights, all of which feature in director-writer Martin McDonagh’s latest triumph. Inisherin is a fictitious location, but there is a sense that the early Oscars contender could do the same for the two Irish island destinations that In Bruges did for the Belgian city back in 2008.

More than a decade later, The Banshees of Inisherin reunites McDonagh with In Bruges stars Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, to tell the story of a rift between friends and the ripple effect on the tiny island community they share. Bruges may have provided a temporary haven for the actors’ hitmen characters in that film, but, on Inisherin, it is impossible for fiddle player Colm Doherty (Gleeson) to escape his persistent former best friend, Pádraic Súilleabháin (Farrell).

Back when things were good between them, Pádraic and Colm would meet for a pint (or a dozen) each afternoon. Like clockwork, Pádraic called on Colm at his idyllic beach locale every day at 2 p.m., so they could walk to the nearby pub together. But not on this fateful day. The year is 1923, and, as a Civil War rages on the mainland, the pleasant illusion of island life is shattered by Colm’s unexpected rejection and the aftermath that follows.

Referencing a place as an additional character in a movie is a cliché that would typically elicit an eye-roll reaction from me. But in this case, the island setting is the lifeblood of the film’s malaise, casting a long shadow over the entire story. A lush green picturesque paradise is juxtaposed with imposing rock dipped in melancholy. The otherworldly aesthetic adds to the fable-like exploration of despair, masculinity, and legacy. It is no wonder McDonagh opted to shoot on-location rather than attempt to recreate this natural beauty on a sterile soundstage.

“Pádraic loses everything in the world that he had experienced any of the joy in his life through. You see it at the start; I walk through a cemetery with a fucking smile on my face. He's so happy-go-lucky and so connected to the world around him,” Farrell explained at the film’s Irish premiere in Dublin on Oct. 14. It all comes crashing down the instant Colm says he no longer wants to continue their daily ritual. Colm’s curt, brutal reason: “I just don’t like you no more.” Now Pádraic has to make the short trek to the cliffside tavern alone, the violent crashing waves of the Atlantic matching his now-solemn mood.

In reality, the small cottage Pádraic shares with his sister—and voice of reason—Siobhán (Kerry Condon) was filmed on a different island than Colm’s home, a 150-kilometer journey via ferry and road from Inishmore to Achill.

At the premiere, McDonagh explained why he knit two visually distinct west coast landscapes to represent the unlikely pals: “Colin is marked in one type of terrain, Brendan’s in another.” Colm is artistic and wants to leave something behind beyond his inane daily chats with Pádraic about nothing. In contrast, Pádraic is content living a simple existence in which he tends to his animals (including the scene-stealing miniature donkey, Jenny) and knocks back a few pints at the local spot.

The Irish ‘Banshee’ Giving One of the Best Performances of the Year

After attending the premiere, I headed to “Inisherin” (aka Achill) to follow in Pádraic and Colm’s footsteps up to the cliff-top pub. Technically the pub itself is no longer standing there, as it was built for filming. But there was no green-screen trickery in the film; the bar existed, and that jaw-dropping setting was real.

Eagle-eyed viewers will notice a shot early on in the film when it becomes clear the interior of the pub is not recreated in a Hollywood studio. When the camera peers out the window, both Pádraic sitting at a lone outdoor table with a Guinness and Colm drinking inside are in frame.

“A pint with a view!” I jotted in my notes when I first saw the film. (If you’re curious, that view is of the Cloughmore coast, along the Wild Atlantic Way.) At the premiere, Gleeson said that going outside while shooting at the pub was like witnessing “a free Donald Teskey” painting. As I stood in the same spot where Colm tells Pádraic he has “this tremendous sense of time slipping away on me,” I can say that it resembles the literal and figurative end of the world. It is easy to see why McDonagh was drawn to this isolated area, even if it was more challenging to shoot there.

“My brief was Ryan’s Daughter: big landscapes, stunning coastal vistas,” location manager Eoin Holohan describes over Zoom, speaking about McDonagh’s vision for the area surrounding the pub. For the bar itself, a John Ford classic provided the reference for Holohan’s search. “It needs to be like The Searchers and the famous scene when they opened the door,” was his instructions—switching the West Texas wilderness for the ocean. “Martin’s like, ‘We’re not going to find a pub where you open the door, and the Atlantic is right there. We’re gonna have to build it.’” The specific area where they built it proved challenging—though it turned the temporary tavern into a tourist hot spot.

“There’s that beautiful road in Achill that has nothing on it, no buildings,” describes Holohan. Days earlier, I had ventured to the remote layby where Holohan had stood with the enthusiastic director. “What? In the middle of the road on a cliff? Are you mental?” was Holohan’s response to McDonagh’s request. Having been pelted by rain and wind, I can see why Holohan had initial doubts. During my visit, Unit Manager Evelyn O’Neill said there was one particularly blustery day when the trucks were practically lifting off the ground. “We couldn’t open the door of the trucks without the risk of losing the door. Trying to even speak to someone was impossible,” Holohan confirms.

After seeing how inviting the pub looks on-screen, it is understandable that residents and tourists were disappointed that this would not be a permanent fixture. Beside the fact that it is on a roadside, the structure is made from tin metal, plywood, and flagstone. Oh, and it is also a stone’s throw from the ocean. “Yeah, I think we are definitely taking that away,” says the locations manager. (For a cozy step back in time, Lynott’s Pub on Achill has peat-burning fires that offer a snapshot of the Banshees tavern atmosphere come to life)

The pub is one of several practical sets built for the shoot, including the village store in Purteen Harbor and Pádraic and Siobhán’s house on Inishmore. The working harbor’s makeover is jaw-dropping when comparing what it looks like in its raw state to the hub of gossip we see in the film, with shopkeeper Mrs. O’Riordan’s (Bríd Ní Neachtain) Inisherin’s village store as the center of activity.

Much of what is seen is Banshees is native to Achill. A crucifix in the water and the impressive view are equally mesmerizing IRL as they are in the film. Some religious artifacts, such as the Virgin Mary at the crossroads, are props, but this one in the water is the real deal.

Harsh beauty mirrors the dual Banshees themes: sorrow and comedy run throughout, overlapping so that a laugh caught in your throat will turn into a gasp. The pub serves as a community hub, but it immediately becomes a source of conflict when Colm dumps his pal. “There’s only the expression of pain, loneliness, love, need,” Farrell said, reflecting on the story that doesn’t ask you to pick a side between the former friends.

The first half of filming took place on Inishmore at the end of the summer tourist season. The year-round population hovers over 850, but accommodation on the island was enough to house the 100-plus cast and crew. In contrast, Achill is Ireland’s largest island and boasts a population of approximately 2,700—both swell during the summer season, which has kicked back into gear after COVID lockdowns (Sheila Mangan, our other guide for the day, runs Achill Isle House).

One element witnessed on both islands was Farrell’s aforementioned preferred exercise attire. “The first time he came out in those, I honestly thought, ‘Is this ’80s Friday or Flashdance Saturday? Oh no, that’s his LA jogging gear.’ Then he would jog around Inishmore in these little short shorts and knee socks,” Holohan says about the noticeable (and much snapped) get-up. “He would go into SuperValu in Achill and buy waffles and get his photo taken,” the location manager adds about the star who was at one with the locals.

‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ Is Colin Farrell at His Very Best

Farrell’s jogging fashion ended up marking the change in seasons and weather. On Inishmore, it “was beautiful and idyllic,” and the lower September sunlight adds to cinematographer Ben Davis’ impressive visuals. “We got to Achill, and it changed. Then we had a lot of wind, rain, and storms. We went from shorts and T-shirts to wearing ski gear,” Holohan says.

Luckily, I had packed with changeable weather in mind, and the crimson beret I wore proved to be on-theme for Siobhán’s color palette. “Red skirts were worn by the women of the West at the time, and I loved the way red pops in the landscape. So that red became the red coat that Siobhan wears,” costume designer Eimer Ní Mhaoldomhnaigh told me over email.

The landscape and pub setting also informed the direction of Ní Mhaoldomhnaigh’s creations. “I realized quickly that a lot of the interiors were going to have very low light levels, so we used checks and stripes and dyed the shirts to create color and texture in the pub and against the green of the landscape,” she says.

On the day I visited, rainbows were a common sight. One appears behind Pádraic at the harbor, matching his cheerful demeanor that is about to get rained all over. There is no pot of gold to be found here. Instead he is in for a rude awakening when he arrives at the abode of his former friend, Gleeson’s Colm.

“Colm’s house was meant to be in a much more kind of lyrical setting, less bleak. [McDonagh] had written it as this perfect horseshoe cove, beautiful beach with cliffs,” Holohan saysn. Achill has been a popular tourist destination since the 1800s, and Keem Beach is one of its jewels.

Pádraic keeps invading Colm’s space, and while his home is in an isolated spot, he still can’t get any peace. On the day we visit, a handful of families and couples enjoy the sunny spells, and intermittent drizzle does nothing to dampen the extraordinary panorama utilized by McDonagh to great effect.

But the humans aren’t alone on the island. You cannot talk about The Banshees of Inisherin without bringing up the collection of animals that enliven the material.

Off-camera, Farrell has recounted how Jenny the miniature donkey “reared up and gave me a good kick one day.” But he holds no ill feelings. At the premiere, he spoke about the benefits of working with creatures who aren’t going to take notes. “I think they pick up on energy and where it’s supposed to go in relation to the natural rhythms of life perhaps, so they’re all very affecting,” he said. Jenny wasn’t the only one to show disdain for the A-list star: “His [Gleeson] fucking dog bit me. And the horse tried to fuck me off the cliff.” (On Stephen Colbert’s talk show, Farrell explained that Minnie almost reversed the cart “into the fecking Atlantic Ocean.”)

Holohan was in charge of the animal logistics, including giving Jenny time so “she’d get used to the cottage.” Going from Inishmore to Achill also meant transporting Jenny and Minnie the horse (who was local to Inishmore). “There was a scene with the cows on Achill, and everyone’s like, ‘Are you seriously gonna bring these cows off an island on a ferry the whole way to Achill for one scene?’” Holohan says. Luckily, “common sense prevailed,” and Pádraic’s cows did not make the sometimes choppy Atlantic crossing.

On Achill, sheep roam every stretch of land and pay zero attention to the oncoming traffic. On the way to Lough Acorrymore, they lay on the grass verge by the roadside without flinching at the passing cars on our tour. At this particular spot, the eerie, otherworldly, disquieting beauty hits me hard in the face—no, it wasn’t the wind. It turns out Holohan feels similarly. “There was loads of moments scouting where you come over a hill and went, ‘Oh my God!’ But that was one of those places where I gasped,” he describes. This lake has what can be best described as a vibe.

“That shot of Siobhán standing in the middle of the frame with the lake and all behind her, I’d hang it on my wall,” Holohan says.

If Bruges is a Medieval fairytale town, then the two islands knitted together to make Inisherin a fable come to life—donkey and jogging attire optional.

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