'Kneecap' is a Belfast and furious Irish rap biopic
The scrappy charmer mixes raunchy comedy and political fire.
The movie opens with a montage of historical footage of car bombs going off in Northern Ireland. Then a voice cuts in. “Every (expletive) story about Belfast starts like this. But not this one.”
(Well, it just did, actually, but I’m not going to quibble.)
The bombs dropped in “Kneecap” are rhetorical, not literal, and accompanied by some irresistible beats. But while the cheeky biopic of the Irish-language rap trio of the same name may be irresistible fun, part “8 Mile” and part “Josie and the Pussycats,” it has a political heart as angry and as earnest as any traditional Irish drama.
The film is a fictionalized origin story about the Irish rap trio known as Kneecap, with the three band members Liam Óg Ó hAnnaidh (stage name Mo Chara), Naoise Ó Cairealláin (Móglaí Bap) , and JJ Ó Dochartaigh (DJ Provai).
The wrinkle is that the Belfast rappers perform in their native Irish language, once actively suppressed by the authorities. “Every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom,” says Bap’s father, a former IRA leader who faked his own death and now lives undercover as a yoga instructor. That Fassbender’s character is nicknamed “Bobby Sandals” is a good in-joke, as Fassbender once played IRA member Bobby Sands in Steve McQueen’s 2008 movie “Hunger.”
That movie was ultra-serious, while “Kneecap” is giddy fun, but they both carry the same defiant spirit. Chara and Bap are teen malcontents who mix drug dealing and rapping, and when Chara is nicked by the police (“peelers” in the local slang), he refuses to speak English in the interrogation room.
Provai plays a mild-mannered teacher brought in to translate. He’s desperately trying to keep the Irish language alive, but it’s hard to get students motivated to learn when the textbooks are outdated and full of downer phrases like “The girl cut turf in the rain.” Seeing Chara wield the same language with such foul-mouthed joy inspires Provai, and when he happens upon Chara’s notebook full of hip-hop lyrics, Provai pulls his old mix deck out of mothballs and offers his services as DJ.
As Kneecap performs and thumbs its nose at the authorities, the first half of the movie is a lot of fun, relentlessly stylish and clever. There’s a Claymation drug trip, subtitles that are not just print on screen but scribbled like graffiti, and plenty of performances of the trio’s irresistible music. You may not understand half of what they’re rapping, but you understand where it’s coming from.
As the crowds grow for Kneecap, so do the problems, and the band finds itself dodging not just the police but Irish revolutionaries who want to use the band for its own ends. I would say the second half of “Kneecap” starts to sink a little under the weight of all its dramatic subplots, and while Chara and Bap have a babyfaced charm, as actors they can’t quite navigate all the serious turns that the screenplay requires. I did like Provai as a meek teacher trying to hide his secret life as a balaclava-wearing DJ from his wife.
Still, “Kneecap” sticks the landing, and the scrappy charmer will send viewers to the nearest streaming service to hear more of their music, and to the internet to learn more about recent Irish history.
“Kneecap” is in theaters now. In Madison, it’s now playing at AMC Fitchburg 18.