Here are the Young Men

It’s only natural for us to envy the young when they stand with the world at their feet, and yet stories often present this as being a period bereft of calm. In as much as stories, the likes of Eoin Macken’s Here Are the Young Men, adapted from Rob Doyle’s novel reminds us of our habitual vice, so to do they provoke sympathy for the anxieties and uncertainty of youth.

Dublin 2003, and Matthew (Dean-Charles Chapman) and his friends Kearney (Joe Cole), Rez (Walsh Peelo) and Jen (Anja Taylor-Joy), lose themselves in the clichés of drink, drugs, sex and thrill-seeking for one last summer. The premise of Here Are the Young Men provokes our interest for its familiarity more than its originality. We’re drawn to the story of these four school leavers, who are finally free from the educational institution and the shackles of adolescence, to see what Macken and Doyle have to say about youth.

The words of Matthew’s teacher echo throughout the film. He tells him, “I have high hopes for you. Be careful with your choices.” Later, when the pair cross paths again, he reminds him of his cautionary warning, “You’re defined by what you do Matthew. You make your choices.”

Choice is an interesting concept in the context of the story, because it feels that their futures are limited. Matthew, Kearney and Rez are characters for who it’s difficult to imagine an adulthood. They hit their peak in school, their dreams of being young anarchists, of living for the moment has no longevity. For Matthew the continuation into adulthood would be a social realist narrative, versus Kearney’s darker psychological drama.

As with The Rules of Attraction (2002), Roger Avary’s adaptation of Brett Easton Ellis’ 1987 novel, about a group of college students, the present is a last breath before the mundanity or the tragedy of adulthood begins, even if the films do not openly acknowledge as much. Macken’s efforts are to penetrate the romanticisation of reality, or living out of our heads, even if the characters are not necessarily aware of it, just as we often are not.

Unlike Kearney who plans to join his brother in America, and Jen who has thoughts of leaving her hometown, it’s never clear what Matthew and Rez’s long term plans are. We quickly sense that they’ve romanticised this moment of freedom, only for their thrill seeking to be interrupted by a traumatic accident. Each responds differently to the incident, from vulnerability and depression, to toxic masculinity and narcissism. It’s an important juncture within the story, because whether or not they are ready for adulthood, it’s suddenly thrust upon them. It’s the moment reality and romanticisation collide, a time for action, not for thought or daydreams, or living out of one’s head. No longer about what their lives can be, their choices now matter as they begin living their lives, shaping their individual and collective fates.

Kearney’s stylised self-projections bring a vibrant energy to the film, giving cause for attention and recognition beyond the immediate experience. It more aggressively confronts the way we relate to our reality by manipulating it with our imagination. It opens up the themes and ideas to the self-awareness that we’re a character in our own story. Kearney is the active and self-conscious author of his drama, while the others are passive and reactionary players to the whims of fate and circumstance.

The transgressive gesture towards religion and the Holy Communion sacrament by Macken and Doyle’s holy trinity of young men, with the teachers words about choice, intersect in a confrontational rejection of God and fate. If Kearney’s self-projections elevate the film, then the friction between morality and God gives the film a thematic and ideological bite, suggesting that morality is the concern of man, not God. Whereas religion preaches a moral simplicity, in our independence from God, we can summon up the courage to face and make the most divisive of moral choices, and then struggle with how they define us, for better or worse.

Here Are the Young Men is an effective drama, that does not try to do too much, or too little. It nestles itself within the hedonistic clichés of drink, drugs, sex and thrill-seeking, yet manages to engage with themes and ideas that resonate with preoccupations and anxieties that commonly trouble us all.

Here Are the Young Men is available now on VoD, and on DVD from May 10th.

Animals

The glorification of male companionship has been celebrated in tragicomedies such as Withnail & I (Bruce Ronbinson, 1987) and Trainspotting (Danny Boyle, 1996). Animals, on the other hand, showcases the triumphant revelry between two young women, decadent in their communal taste for fermented depravity. Effortlessly translating Emma Jane Unsworth’s book from Manchester’s streets to the Irish capital, Animals zips with inspired zest, an energised exposition of elastic wit and inspirited storytelling.

Laura (the British born Holliday Grainger, complete with killer Dublin accent) fancies herself a writer, fancifully fantasising through voluminous bottles with the coquettish Tyler (Alia Shawkat). Their thirties fast approaching, the women see little reason to halt their precocious abilities to party, until love threatens to put these halcyon days to pasture. Minesweeping to Alphaville, Laura walks into the enigmatic Jim (Fra Fee), a precocious Ulster pianist whose scale painting conjures composites of satiated sexual desires. Between these silhouettes, a solitary fox walks, echoing the lonely poetry the film displays.

Befriending a musician, Laura looks to the emptiness of her novel, a work which has amassed 10 pages in as many years, at a time when her sister, once a free spirit who put fire to her vaginal hair in the name of drunken mirth, has gifted their parents a darling grandchild. Beside her stands Tyler, bohemian in outlook and lifestyle, hiding her mournful tears for a parent behind copious amounts of drugs and beer.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that the film works with cocaine speed, on cocaine ethics and cocaine rhythms, each shot more unsettling than the last. A communal poetry reading soon turns carnal, with powdered implements entering holes holier than nostrils, while a communal familial dinner is noted for some choice opinions on infertility. Tyler, proudly seeking pleasures from the world outside convention, turns to rhetoric to detail her every life. She chides her friend through an assemblage of wedding dresses as a bastion for idiotic men, while Laura prides her feminism on bringing modernity to the traditional wedding.

Animals is proudly liberal in its outlook. In a telling moment, Laura invites her fiancé to decide what to do with his body. The film makes use of both posteriors, Tyler walking to them with wine glasses to find her best friend in flagrante delicto beside a red brick wall.

Yet the film’s most intimate scenes concern the two women. Whether bed bound in conversation, rebounded in romantic interests or surrounded by Beatnik literati, the two saunter the Irish city with the contentment of deep friendship, one living through art, the other hoping to catch it. It really doesn’t get much better than this!

Animals is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, August 2nd. On VoD in April 2020.

Animals is in our list of Top 10 dirtiest films of 2019.