Kneecap

The negative associations people have with biopics is due to seeing so many bad ones, such this year's notable misses Bob Marley: One Love and Back to Black. It's so easy to fall into hagiography, using an incredibly rote structure to tell you why their subject is amazing and worthy of your praise. Too often, they sacrifice story in order to cast the subject as a victim, despite being revered by the culture. There are of course exceptions, such as last year's Oppenheimer. But even the good ones tend to fill in the details on people or events you already knew about. Thus, the increased capacity for emotional honesty afforded by narrative can get drowned out by any perceived inaccuracies, as they invite comparison to reality and cries of "Why not make a documentary?". That's what makes it so much fun when a biopic covers a topic of which you're ignorant, such as Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game. Or Kneecap.

You might be surprised to learn that this Irish film is mostly in Irish. In which case, I'd wager you're unfamiliar with Kneecap, and this is the first you're reading about their film. They helped popularize Irish-language rap (Rap as Gaeilge)¹, which brings along with it strong political themes, such as the unification of Ireland and a strong anti-British sentiment. It's a movie (and a movement) that fully embraces language as the expression and preservation of culture, and thus rightfully scoffs at those who accuse Kneecap of politicizing the language: the very act of speaking it is political, in light of the decades during which the British tried to suppress and destroy it. This makes it a perfect marriage with the politics inherent in hip-hop.

The film serves primarily as an origin story of sorts for Kneecap, in which the rap trio (Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap, and DJ Próvai) play themselves, proving to be incredibly natural actors. Although to be clear, I'm not certain how rooted in fact it is. For example, it transposes Móglaí's friend's experience getting arrested and refusing to speak anything other than Irish onto Mo. And it all takes place in 2019, despite the group's first single coming out a few years earlier. But it hardly matters: it cuts to the core of their ethos, and gives a reason for Próvai to meet him and Mo. If (okay, when) they make a documentary about Kneecap some day, that can focus on veracity. For now, it's enough to tell a compelling story, get their perspective out there, and self-mythologize a bit.

It should come as no surprise how concerned with Irish identity and pride it is, even as the various characters wrestle with various ways of expressing that. Próvai struggles to interest his students in their Irish studies, the Irish Language Act fails to pass despite the support of an activist group in which he participates, Móglaí's father Arló (Michael Fassbender) is a Irish-nationalist gangster who's "disappeared", and Mo simply refuses to speak English in his home country. Mo and Móglaí are lifelong best friends, who've had numerous run-ins with the "peelers" over their "anti-social behavior" (i.e. partying and drug-use), which Mo expresses through poetic diary entries combined with his own in your face Irish nationalism. You could argue that aggressive lyrics talking about MDMA and antagonizing cops and poverty make them less than ideal ambassadors for the language. Many in their community do, including Próvai's girlfriend Caitlin (Fionnuala Flaherty), and the Radical Republicans Against Drugs (RRAD). But it's impossible to deny the speed with which they gain notoriety, drawing crowds shouting their lyrics. Próvai even comes across some students working on their own rhymes specifically citing Kneecap as their inspiration. Like it or not, Kneecap is speaking to people. They're not inciting revolution, but are clearly inspiring a revitalization.

All of this is played with such energy and enthusiasm and sharp humor that you can't help but crack a smile, if not laugh out loud. The group isn't afraid to let themselves be the butt of the joke, nor do they feel the need to appear tough: it's fairly early on that a few members of RRAD confront them for giving out drugs at their first few shows, leaving Mo and Móglaí bloodied and bruised. At their core, they're mischief makers, using their antics to express a deeper ideology. The situations are ridiculous at points, but in a way that feel in line with everything else. One early highlight is when Mo, dressed in a green track suit, steals a baton from an orange-clad British marching band, leading them on a high-octane foot chase for no other reason than to mess with them. In a cheeky bit of irony and foreshadowing, it's scored to "Smack My Bitch Up" by The Prodigy, a song which experienced widespread outrage and bans upon its release, much as Kneecap's debut "C.E.A.R.T.A.".

The whole thing is filmed with a kinetic vigor, not just the couple small set pieces. There are some neat little visual flourishes, such as bits of animation to emphasize key parts of the frame, or stop-motion for one of the points they accidentally snort ketamine instead of cocaine and have to interact with a radio DJ. So much is abstract and creatively portrayed that you forget that biopics are "supposed" to be stuffy affairs.

While the music and the conflicts between members and in their lives are obviously going to be the central elements of the film, there are a few smaller side plots which help make it more emotional than you might expect. Some are played more for comedy, such as Mo's constant bickering with his status quo supporting girlfriend Georgia (Jessica Reynolds). The backbone of the narrative is Próvai balancing his secret membership in the group with Caitlin's distress over the bad name their publicity is giving Irish speakers. But the emotional core is Móglaí wrestling with Arló's past deeds and his mom's present agoraphobia, both tying him to The Troubles despite himself being a Ceasefire Baby. He's taken over the mantle of his father's nationalism, but without the direct action Arló so prized, causing him feelings of inadequacy he can only address through his rapping and directly confronting his father's legacy.

The group itself is clearly early in their journey, having just released their sophomore album this year. Moreover, the momentum they've built in such a short time bodes well for the future not just of their music, but Irish-language hip-hop as a whole. Even more important, the successor to the Irish Language Act eventually passed in 2022, making Irish an officially recognized language of the UK. I have to wonder if Kneecap's success played any role in bringing attention to it and driving support, at least amongst younger people. In the grand scheme, their impact was probably pretty small, given their fanbase is only a fraction of the island's population, but every little bit helps. And at a minimum, they've succeeded in broadening their message of the importance of native Irish culture worldwide, first with wide coverage in the global press, and now with this excellent film.