THE STORY – Michael tends his family’s sheep business entirely on his own. His father is disabled, and his mother died years ago in a car accident in which Michael was the driver. Michael has lived with guilt ever since — as well as a secret he hopes will never come to light.
THE CAST – Christopher Abbott, Barry Keoghan, Colm Meaney, Nora-Jane Noone & Paul Ready
THE TEAM – Christopher Andrews (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 105 Minutes
Writer-director Christopher Andrews’ feature directorial debut “Bring Them Down” certainly lives up to its title, as it does anything but lift your spirits. The film centers on feuding Irish shepherds whose shared pastoral environment sinks into desolation. A disagreement between the neighboring families spirals into a bloodbath, and they wage a punishing war that destroys the innocent and haunts the guilty. Andrews tells the story through such a relentlessly bitter and bleak lens that his direction starts to bleed conceit. He pushes his characters far down a rabbit hole of violence, where moments of levity are seldom found. While the exterior brutality wears thin and becomes repetitive, the characters’ interior conflict maintains intrigue. Their journeys grow more layered as the film switches between perspectives of toxic masculinity. The lush rolling hills of rural Ireland get splattered with generational rage.
The film begins in the tense moments leading up to a fatal car crash. Two passengers beg frantically for the driver to slow down. The camera focuses on their faces without cutting to the person behind the wheel. The driver’s concealed identity sets a bleak tone, wherein tragedy so often claims the lives of those who had nothing to do with it. If they have a conscience, those responsible are left with the burden of carrying their guilt uphill. Through the film’s introduction, Andrews and co-writer Jonathan Hourigan establish why “Bring Them Down” is so mercilessly bleak. The story lives in the aftermath of that crash, a tragic decision sparing no one from its impact.
The central story follows Michael (Christopher Abbott), an isolated shepherd who lives on a sheep farm with his father, Ray (Colm Meaney). They assume a relatively quiet life until Michael notices the front gate to their land is mangled. Two of their rams have been stolen. Neighboring rival farmer Gary (Paul Ready) and his son Jack (Barry Keoghan) lead Michael to believe the rams are dead and buried. When a skeptical Michael investigates further, he discovers his rams are alive and up for sale. One anger-fueled decision after another leaves both families spinning until the conflict escalates into a horrific act of violence against the most innocent living species on this land. The casualties of this pastoral war have nothing to do with it, making the film a viscerally tough watch.
“Bring Them Down” initially tells its story through the perspective of Michael (Abbott). Weighed down by internal conflicts, he traverses the Irish countryside almost invisibly. His brooding aggression and minimal dialogue hook you into his world. Michael’s silent fury is far more fascinating and impactful than the noise of his neighboring threats. He has a muted but threatening approach to how events escalate, and his pursuit for revenge lays the foundation for a revelatory second act.
Just when the straightforward narrative of a shepherd in search of his rams feels tedious, the film reverses its script. The perspective of Jack (Keoghan) falls into focus, adding more fuel to the fire. His parents, Gary (Ready) and Caroline (Nora-Jane Noone), have a strained relationship. Violent arguments permeate the household. While Caroline finds a potential way out through a job offer in Cork, Jack struggles to pave a separate path. He trails behind his father’s actions and eventually becomes a traumatized version of himself, wherein expression is made through acts of violence.
Both characters’ perspectives are threaded together to create a layered story about generational violence and manifestations of toxic masculinity. Michael and Jack are men of few words; their lack of dialogue speaks to the challenges of expressing their emotions. Rather than communicate their feelings, they use aggression to assert power over each other in a grim war against themselves. Christopher Abbott and Barry Keoghan are no strangers to bleak stories. Here, they exercise animalistic qualities in their performances and use remarkable physicality to evoke tension. Michael moves with a sense of assuredness, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Jack is flighty by comparison; he struggles to stand his ground and gets easily caught up in his surroundings. Internal anguish has a way of shaping how you carry yourself, which Abbott and Keoghan convey with incredible humanity. Abbott also shines with impressive accent work, especially in his scenes with the character’s father, played by a great Colm Meaney.
After a certain point, the film’s depressing chain of events becomes so overpowering it feels oddly conceited. Some of the characters’ violent outbursts and motivations are contrived. However, Andrews’ overall vision and non-linear storytelling set the film apart. He brings forth a play on perspectives, which trickles down to everything from the layered performances to the frantic camera angles and ominous landscape shots. Beneath a chilling revenge thriller is a crackling family drama that feeds on the violent perils of pent-up emotions.
