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Irish Comedy Horror with a shonky link to Myth and Vampires

I’m not really a horro fan but there’s quite a mad Irish comedy horror from writers Chris Baugh and Brendan Mullin (along the lines of ‘Grabbers’) doing the rounds at the moment.

Entitled, ‘Boys from County Hell’, it playfully makes use of the old and very shonky legend of Abhartach (an evil dwarf, magician), twisting the original tale’s dubious connection to Bram Stoker (the connection being that he lived in the same region for a time) to create an Irish vampire movie that foreigners will lap up with equal measures of enjoyment and credulity.

I’ll cover the mythological detail and background later this month in Vóg but the movie certainly looks funny enough as long as you don’t take anything seriously.

You can find the trailer HERE.

Irish Mythology – The Plastic Verison

Over the last year I’ve received a disturbing number of queries from people seeking advice on Irish mythology – to the point I’ve had to implement a policy that I don’t respond to such questions. This isn’t because I don’t like helping people – I generally do – but I simply don’t have the time and the topic is not one you can explain in shorthand over an email.

Trying to explain aspects of Irish mythology (or any mythology) to someone unfamiliar with the basic concepts – including the language – is like trying to explain science to someone who doesn’t know what an ‘atom’ is.

What disturbs me most, however, is the number of people seeking answers for issues that Irish mythology couldn’t possibly help them with. This demand has led to a flurry of ‘Keltic Recreationists’, ‘Paygains’, and self-appointed ‘Droods’ offering to provide such an answer and using elements of Gaelic culture as branding to sell their service.

Unfortunately, any truth based on an untruth … is not really a good truth to learn.

Irish Reflections and ‘Dragons’ over Montreal

I’ve always had a lot of time for Irish film stalwart, Gabriel Byrne, but his latest movie ‘Death of a Ladies Man’ really seems to be his most interesting to date. An Irish-Canadian co- production, the movie concerns an Irish actor struggles with a crisis of conscience once he finds out that he doesn’t have long to live – to the tunes of Leonard Cohen.

Written (and directed) by Matt Bissonnette, one would think the film would sink under the heavy nature of its subject matter but the snappy script and Byrne’s performance lift it above the over-oppressive elements of your typical morality tale …

That and the hilarious hallucinations.

Byrne experiences some intriguing phantasms as he re-examines his life; giant geese reigning fire down on Montreal (akin to ‘Game of Thrones’), women with tiger heads, conversations with his dead father (who looks younger than he does!).

Genius!

You can find the trailer HERE

The FREE literary game is live!

Dia Dhaoibh a Chairde/ Hallo Friends!

Welcome to the launch post for Dark Dawn/An Camhaoir Fuilsmeartha.

Through the image link below you’ll be transferred to an experimental format literary game relating to the ancient Irish Fianaigeacht – Fenian Cycle – tales (and to some of my own Fionn mac Cumhaill Series books). 

At heart, it’s the story of a sick warrior who’s convinced – against his better judgement – to try and save a tiny settlement. During the story, that warrior must make decisions – influenced by events in his own life – that can change the outcome.

It’s a very simple story. A very human story.

The game can be experienced through Irish or through English (or both). Naturally, because they’re different languages/cultures, those experiences will differ slightly. When it comes to different cultures, there’s no such thing as a ‘direct translation’.

This project is one I started three years ago as part of Irish Imbas’ ongoing mission to make Gaelic/Irish culture more visible and more understood (and to counter the reams of misinformation relating to Gaelic Irish mythology that pervade the internet). Developed on a shoestring budget, it required a whole new set of skills that I was obliged to learn as I progressed. In that regard, it’s also been something of a labour of love. To be honest, although I’m happy with the final product, I’m also a bit relieved I can finally move onto the next creative project.

Please feel free to share the post with whoever you think might be interested. In fact I’d encourage you to do so as there are still plenty of people out there under the illusiton that Irish/Gaelic is a ‘fantasy’ language. If you’re feeling particularly generous, I’d really appreciate an honest summary of your thoughts/feedback, either through the usual Goodreads review mechanism (here or at the end of the game) or directly by email.

But that’s enough of the intro.  It’s time to jump on in. Just click the link through the image below.

Bain sult as! / Enjoy!

Wish I could have done that!

In a world dominated by ‘genre’ entertainment based on clichés and tropes, I’ve always been impressed by creatives that surprise me. That’s something I, personally, strive to do with my own work but, cynic that I am, it’s something I rarely experience myself.

I was fortunate to have one of those rare events last night however, while watching a German Netflix television show called Babylon Berlin. Assuming it was one of those pre-war, cabaret dramas, I’d pretty much avoided it for a long time but then my partner K and I ended up watching two episodes by chance.

The first episode was better than I’d expected and defied expectations in terms of sheer scale of production, the breadth of characters and the fact that it actually resembled to be a war-time ‘police procedural’ rather than a cabaret drama. One long scene in the second episode however, completely blew me away – an incredibly clever dance piece that looked like some kind of twisted ‘flash mob’ event in pre-war Berlin. Led by a female performer in drag, it managed not only to create an incredibly intense cabaret performance scene but interspersed it with a clever rivalry between two male dancers (for the same girl) and a machine gun massacre on a communist printing press (the latter, unfortunately, doesn’t appear in the You tube scene below).

German arthouse has always been the ‘bad boy’ of European art and creative work (as they always push the boundaries) but this is the classiest piece of work I’ve seen in a long time.

To be honest, I’m dead jealous.

The attached clip below will show you an abbreviated version of the scene but it won’t be as intense as you’ll be missing the ‘build up’ and context. My advice would be to watch the first two episodes for yourself but if you’re tempted … here it is!

Brian Boru – Guerrila Fighter against the Vikings

Attached is a short but interesting video on Brian Boru from an old television series called ‘Ancient Warriors‘.

This being an American series, much of the pronunuciation of Irish names and terms is pretty dodgy and the producers seem to have got their locations badly mixed up. That said, they do cover the inter-tribal discord and Brian Boru’s early years fighting the Danes quite well.

For several years, when Brian Boru was in his early twenties, he waged a guerilla war against the Danes around Limerick and other parts of western Munster. Although records of the time are sparse, he seems to have created some serious disruption for them over that period. Living a tenuous existence with his fian, his shortage of men, tribal support and resources menat that he coudl never do more than carry out ambushes and surprise attacks before quickly retreating to the relatively safety of marshes and hidden caves.

This and violent lifestyle inevitably led to attrition over time and many of Brian’s followers were either killed or deserted him. It wasn’t until his tribe – the Dal gCais – finally committed some resource, that Brian was able to move on to bigger and better things.

Unlike many of the Irish heroes described as warriors, Brian Boru did appear to deserve that description and the ‘up close and personal’ battle experiences would have helped his later – far more strategic – battle planning.

Over those early two to three years however, Brian and his men lived a life very much like Na Fianna as described in some detail in my own books on the topic.

You can find the link to the video here: Brian Boru

Some Sage Advice on Druids

Sage advcie on druids

It’s interesting when you use different languages for what’s supposed to be the same thing or the same word defining the ‘thing’. The problem, of course, is that langauge is culturally-based and, often, a word cannot be directly translated or even explained without a good understanding of the culture in question.

In English, the word ‘druid’ has really taken on a kind of ‘magic’ or ‘fantasy’ element in contemporary times. In Irish (Gaelic), because it’s quite a different culture (and a different way ot thinking), the word has a somewhat different context. That’s pretty much the reason I mostly use the Irish term instead of the English term in my books.

Either way, like all people who want to tell you what to believe in – draoi, druids, priests, bishops, gurus, swamis etc. – you should never truly trust what they tell you.

FAVOURITE CHARACTERS: NUMBER TWO – DAHL

Dahl is a young, attractive, and very mysterious Hungarian woman from the short story ‘The Ring Master’s Daughter’.

When I first wrote this tale some twenty years ago, I was originally trying to create a situation involving a dialogue between two strangers, where you could never be entirely sure whether anything that was said was true. Over the course of the story, therefore, when the protagonist (a young Irishwoman called Kathy) first encounters Dahl, she shifts from scepticism to wonder and then back again, never entirely sure whether the Hungarian girl is what she claims to be – or, indeed, if she’s even Hungarian!

To create the level of surreal uncertainty needed to make this story work, I set it in the seaside town of Hove but supported the technique of ‘unreliable narrator’ with ‘unreliable environment’ – in this case a mist that obscures the town, temporarily removing the normal physical features that offer a contemporary societal context. The surreal circumstance is then further confounded by Dahl spinning one outrageous story after another – to the point where you have to believe she’s lying.

Unless she’s not.

Dahl is a great character to write as you can honestly make anything come out of her mouth sound plausible. I liked her so much, in fact, that I used her as the template for a character in Beara Dark Legends – another mysterious woman but with a far more developed personality. I’m hoping to write another short story with Dahl at some point when time allows.

Gaelic Slavers

I was intrigued by a recent image I came across from Polish illustrator Piotr Chrzanowski, as it includes an intriguing level of cultural authenticity that lifts him far above the usual visual representations of (what passes for) early Irish warriors/culture.  Chrzanowski’s own description notes on the image describe it as:

‘Gaelic Irish raiders’ – a slavers warband. From the 7th century. Some wearing captured Saxon or Norse helmets.

For me, Chrzanowski’s image and note are particularly interesting as:

  • he doesn’t fall into the well-trodden fantasy trap of using the word ‘Celtic’ to describe Gaelic, Welsh, Manx, Breton and other cultures
  • his notes display a level of knowledge of certain ancient Irish culture/history that most people don’t have

What probably intrigued me most about the image was the reference to ‘slavers’ as it covers an aspect of ancient Irish culture many people prefer to gloss over – Irish slavery. Not to be confused with the “Irish were the First Slaves’ fantasy pushed by white supremacist nutters, this actually refers to the period when the Roman Empire deserted current-day Great Britain. For two to three centuries afterward, the country was left in such disarray, opportunistic Irish raiders were able to raid parts of it on a regular basis for goods and slaves.

That is, after all, how we managed to snaffle our national saint!

Apart from this personally appealing snippet, Chrzanowski’s work is worth checking out as his character design illustrations are particularly well done. You can find him at: https://www.facebook.com/piotr.chrzanowski.art/

DARK DAWN: A New Kind of Irish Adventure

This week I’m recommencing work on Dark Dawn/ Camhaoir Fuilsmeartha, a new kind of Irish adventure which I’m hoping to release in Janurary 2021. At this stage, I can only say that it’ll be quite different to anything I’ve produced so far.

Unfortunately, this project dropped by the wayside as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic (the associated lockdowns and the mad workload that resulted directly as a result of that). Given the amount of time I’d invested in it, that was something of a disappointment but it’s nice to think I can now start the ‘salvage’ process.

My preference is for the Irish title (Camhaoir Fulilsmeartha) which means ‘Bloodspattered Dawn’ as opposed to ‘Dark Dawn’. You can find the Goodreads link here: Dark Dawn/ Camhaoir Fuilsmeartha

Cover Grow Up

Had a timely ‘blast from the past’ today when I received a reminder of a book cover from October 2014 (for FIONN: Traitor of Dun Baoiscne). It was timely given that Amazon have somehow managed to revert to printing my paperbacks with the older covers instead of the more recent versions (which have been in place for some years).

Back when I first started writing and publishing, there were far fewer artists available to do illustrations and limited stock photos that you could purchase within a shoestring budget. For 1st/2nd century Ireland – the time/culture in which my books are set – finding ‘representative’ covers was particularly difficult. Despite many days searching, in the end I had no choice but to resort to fantasy-style photostock and using a graphic artist to try and ‘Gaelicise’ the result as far as possible.

I was never entirely comfortable with the resulting image. The fanboy, Red-Sonya fantasy style image I ended up with, really didn’t work that well for the culturally-realistic feel I was trying to reintroduce in our mythological narratives (not to mind the lack of realism around Irish weather!). As a result, this cover (deservedly) endured some serious piss-taking (predominantly from my partner, daughter, editor [female], proof-reader [female]).

Despite that, it proved remarkably popular until I could finally afford to replace it. Skimpy-clothed model aside, I think the standing stone, the colour and the background terrain worked really well.

Favourite Irish Imbas Characters

Fiachail mac Codhna

Fiacail mac Codhna is a swaggering and irrepressible warrior from the Fionn mac Cumhaill Series. Handsome, charming, and shrewdly strategic in battle, Fiacail’s potential for tribal greatness is undermined only by an over-sexed libido and a strong weakness for women, particularly where it relates to Bodhmhall ua Baoiscne – aunt of the famous Fionn mac Cumhaill.

Fiacail’s quite a lot of fun to write. He has no delusions of grandeur and he can be charmingly crass at times – particularly where it relates to sex – but his humour and genuine attraction to Bodhmhall means he’s a credible third player in the love triangle with Bodhmhall and Liath Luachra. His bawdy humour and blunt demeanour, meanwhile, offers some welcome relief from some of the more serious and intellectual characters in the series.

When not chasing women, Fiacail likes to walk around naked in the morning having conversations with Great Father Sun. Much of this involves trying to convince Father Sun not to cause the end of the world but also to give him a pony.

Over the course of the original Fenian Cycle narratives, Fiacail turns up on several occasions, usually as a kind of foster father/advisor to the young Fionn mac Cumhaill although, at one point, he’s also referred to as a reaver.

In modern Irish, ‘fiacail’ is actually the word for ‘tooth’, so it’s an odd name for a character and the ancient Fenian Cycle manuscripts offer little explanation of its derivation.

Irish Mythology in Advertising

Narratives and concepts from Irish mythology – or any other mythology for that matter – are often used by the advertising industry. One of the reasons for this is that mythology offers commonly recognised cultural narratives and culturla constructs which can be easily adapted to the advertising industry’s use of simplified visual concepts, stereotypes and targeted soundbites.

I recently came across some images for a Guiness campaign linked to the Guinness-sponsored All-Ireland Hurling Championship (developed in 2005 by Yoke Productions) which uses the mythological narrative of Cú Chulainn as the basis for a campaign entitled ‘Stuff of Legends’. That was actually a very clever idea. The well-known Cú Chulainn narrative already has an established link to the ancient sport of hurling but by linking it to the product (Guinness) through the use of the word ‘Stuff’ (this has an association to Guiness through  ‘Aah, great stuff!’ etc.) and sponsorship of the Hurling Championship, a whole web of clever patriotic associations were made between Irish culture. 

Fortunately, this being a home-grown Irish production, the narrative didn’t veer too far into the ‘fantasy’ trap (although it did of course utilise the more fantastical story elements of the Ulster Cycle stories). Looking at the imagry produced for the advertisments, you’d have to say the advertisers did an excellent job. The ‘look’ and the ‘theme’ are quintisentially Irish, the adds are visually attractive and, overall, it works very well.

They did however – from a mythologyical perspective –  cock up one of the three campaign images. Can you tell which one it is?  Image A, Image B or Image C?

Image A

Image B

Image C

The Answer:

The answer, of course, is Image B. Cú Chulainn has no association with the Giants Causeway in the image. This was actually a Fionn mac Cumhaill story.

Although, eh … I don’t think Fionn had a hurley!

Love on The Aran Islands

Given the roaring success of ‘Normal People’, we’ve jumped on the sexy Irish band-wagon with the attached cover shot for our new range of exciting romantic and erotic novels under the brand “Love on The Aran Islands”. Titles include:

  • First Touch at Killronan (Cill Rónáin)
  • Fast Times at the Dark Fort
  • Fierce Goings On at Dún Aonghasa
  • Forty Shades of Bungolwa
  • Hot Sweats in Innisheer

Hopefully, you actually didn’t believe all that.

This photo was actually taken during some extraordinarily hot weather out on the islands post Covid-19, just a day after a storm that knocked the telephone mast down.

Interlude at a Cave

An excerpt from Fionn: Defence of Ráth Bládhma. While out hunting, the woman warrior Liath Luachra and her young companion Bearach have discovered tracks of a large war party in the snow. Concerned that the war party might discover their trail and follow them back to the settlement of Ráth Bládhma, they elect instead to spend the night in a nearby cave.
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By the time they’d climbed to the cleft on the hill crest, the sky was beginning to darken, the light turning brittle and grey. The wind had also increased, whipping icy gusts down from the summit to spatter their eyes and faces

‘There it is!’

Liath Luachra pointed towards a narrow slit in the side of a steep incline, just above the tree line. Pleased to find it exactly where she’d remembered, she approached the craggy cave mouth. It seemed a bit narrower than she recalled but it was definitely the place.

A rocky passage curled inwards from the entrance for a distance of about seven or eight paces before veering off sharply to the left. Here it widened to form a circular chamber with a high curved ceiling. In one wall, there was a wide ledge at the height of a tall man’s head. Accessible using a rough series of hollows and notches that pockmarked the rocky surface, it provided a secure place to sleep.

Liath Luachra dumped an armful of kindling and branches onto the floor then left Bearach to coax a fire to life while she went outside and down to the trees to seek additional fuel. After returning several times with armfuls of the driest wood she could find, she hacked a number of branches from a nearby gorse bush and used them to plug the entrance to the cave. As a barrier, the spiny shrub did not present a serious obstacle, however its voluminous branches would serve as a credible windbreak to prevent the worst of the gale from entering the cave. More importantly, they would also help to shield any light from the fire that might seep out from the inner chamber.

When the gap was sealed to her satisfaction, Liath Luachra joined the youth, sitting by the small fire he’d managed to put together. Bearach had also laid their rations out on a flat rock beside the fire; two portions of salted fish, blood cake and some hard bread, all wrapped in broad, green dock leaves.

They ate the frugal meal in silence, the woman warrior chewing without relish on the tasteless hard tack. It was hardly a feast but it was certainly not the worst she’d eaten. With her habitual pragmatism, she accepted the food for what it was; simple replenishment to keep the hunger pangs at bay.

Beside her, somewhat more forthright, Bearach sighed and grimaced melodramatically with each mouthful.

‘Some roasted meat would have been nice.’

Liath Luachra gave him a sidewards glance, one eyebrow raised.

‘You’re as bad as your brother.’

‘But Aodhán has a point. He likes his meat. This is like chewing dog turds. I wish we’d brought some decent food with us.’

Liath Luachra rewarded his opinion with a look of disdain. Tossing the empty dock leaves aside, she slowly got to her feet and then twisted her hips so that she could slip her right hand down the back of her woolen leggings. Bearach watched in growing bewilderment as she grunted loudly, forehead creased as though in immense concentration.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Be quiet. I’m trying to pull some nice fresh venison out of my arse for your dinner.’

He stared at her blankly then suddenly his head rolled back and a raucous guffaw echoed around the cave, resounding off the hard chamber walls to fill the enclosed space with laughter. Infected by his contagious good humour, Liath Luachra started to laugh as well and, for a moment, a great weight slipped from her shoulders.

When they’d finished eating the last scraps of food, Bearach climbed up to the rocky shelf to unroll their bedding; two double-layered wool blankets. He spread these out across a cushion of spruce cuttings that he’d trampled flat on the rock base and strewn with dead leaves bundled up from the cavern floor.

Liath Luachra regarded the sleeping arrangements with little enthusiasm.

Hard dreams tonight, then.

‘You go ahead and sleep,’ she instructed the boy. ‘I want to think and I need to be alone to work out the way of things. I’ll come join you when I’m ready.’

Shrugging, Bearach retired to his bedroll and lay down, fully clothed, on the thin bedding. They would have no covering layer tonight, relying on their shared body heat, the fire and the shelter of the cave to keep them warm until morning.

Exhausted from the day’s exertions, it did not take the boy long to fade and within a short period of time, a soft snore emanated from the huddle he made.

Liath Luachra remained seated before the small fire, adding some dry sticks then rubbing her palms together before the brief flare of heat they produced. Outside, the temperature would have plummeted but it was still pleasantly warm within the cave, the rocky walls reflecting the heat of the fire back on her. Later in the night, when the fire had died down, the accumulated heat would slowly seep out through the cave entrance, despite her best efforts to seal them in.

She glanced back over her shoulder and up to the ledge where Bearach was visible, sleeping quietly. She released a long sigh. Originally intending to travel alone, she’d allowed the boy to beat her resistance down with his good humour and boundless enthusiasm, somehow convincing her to let him come. She was still unsure how he’d actually managed to do that, to weasel his way past her habitual resolve.

The fire crackled and a low draught stirred the scent of burning pine up to her nostrils.

She had never been particularly good with children, unable to relate to their weakness, their innocence and complete dependency on adults. Her own childhood had taught her that there were only two types of people: those who were tough enough to survive and those who died.  It was a simple as that.

And yet it wasn’t, of course.

Three years at Ráth Bládhma had changed her beliefs on many things. Somehow, over that time, the routine domesticity and Bodhmhall’s calming influence had mellowed her, worn down her more jagged edges. Until accompanying Bodhmhall to Ráth Bládhma she had never really known such an extended period of calm, of tranquility. In the new settlement, for the first time in her life, she was surrounded by people she actually liked, people who respected her presence there as much for her company as for her martial skills.

You are getting soft, Liath Luachra. Life at Ráth Bládhma has made you soft and fat.

Sometimes she wished she could cut old memories from her mind, peel them away in the same way she’d peel the skin from a potato. If such things were possible she would have pared away all the pain, all the memories, long ago and tossed them into the air to let the wind take them away.

She chuckled at her own inanities. She was only fooling herself. The pain made her who she was. The pain made her hard and ruthless and, sometimes, ruthlessness was necessary to combat those who threatened you.

And there was always someone who would threaten you.

THE BEST IRISH FILMS (EVER!)

Tara Brady and Donald Clarke from the Irish Times have put their heads together to develop a list of what they see as the ‘best Irish films’ (ever!). What’s most interesting however are the insights on ‘why’ they chose the films they chose. Their choice of ‘best’ Irish film ever will probably raise a few eyebrows.
 
Ireland has always been in something of a peculiar situation when it comes to books or movies portraying its country and people. Until very recently – and, to a degree, this still continues – our native stories have been most predominantly portrayed by people who weren’t even from the country, who didn’t have a good grasp of the language or the culture. This occasionally led – and still leads – to situations where these other people (usually well-intentioned) have imposed their own interpretation of what it means to be Irish on us (a situation summed by the term ‘Oirishness’), something that’s usually very different from the reality.
 
It’s really only in recent years that Irish creators have started to define their cultural stories in their own terms and not as others want to see us.
 
Whatever your thoughts however, this is a very interesting list of Irish (and Oirish) movies.
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No sane person will sincerely claim that the ranking of cultural entities is anything other than a sophisticated parlour game.

When it comes to Irish film, however, the debate will invariably focus less on relative placings – whether Garage is better than The Quiet Man – than on how we are defining our terms. Is The Quiet Man Irish at all? It was financed by an American studio and set in a fanciful version of the real nation.

Our rules are looser than some may prefer. Significant numbers of Irish personnel is a factor. Notable levels of Irish funding scores you a few more points on our jerry-rigged scale

When testing a novel for Irishness, we need focus our attention on the writer alone. Colm Tóibín’s The Master may be set in England and published by a British house, but nobody would claim it was anything other than an Irish book. John Crowley’s adaptation of Tóibín’s Brooklyn is Irish as well. But it’s also British and a little bit Canadian. A co-production of the BBC and the Irish Film Board (among others), it quite reasonably competed for awards at both the British and Irish Academies. Few of the films on this list pass the purity test for absolute uncorrupted Irishness.

Our rules are looser than some may prefer. Significant numbers of Irish personnel is a factor. Notable levels of Irish funding scores you a few more points on our jerry-rigged scale. Shooting a film in Ireland gets you a long way down the road, but, as should be obvious, external productions that use the country as a stand-in for somewhere else aren’t getting anywhere with the jury. Neither Saving Private Ryan (Normandy in Wexford) nor The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (the Berlin Wall in Smithfield) was up for consideration.

Decisions also had to be made as to what we mean by a feature film. We settled on a production made for theatrical exhibition that exceeds 70 minutes. Pat O’Connor’s fine The Ballroom of Romance fails on two counts. It is a television production that comes in at 65 minutes. (At the 1983 Bafta awards, it won in the TV section, not the film race). Playing hardball on length, we had to regretfully exclude the early work of Vivienne Dick, Bob Quinn’s legendary Poitín and more recent films such as Graham Seeley and Kevin Brannigan’s The Man With the Hat.

The final ranking is – as all such rankings must be – the creation of a fleeting mood. The order may have been different an hour or so later. It is not, however, a ranking of Irishness. Once a film has qualified it competes equally with all others. Some may reasonably think our top film among the least Irish of the bunch. So be it. Having made the grade, we asked only whether it is better than the rest. The answer today was “yes”. Tomorrow, who knows?

The link is HERE

New Irish Horror/Sci-fi/Adventure Film

There’s an interesting new film from Irish Director Neasa Hardiman available in April. Set aboard and Irish fishing boat in the Northern Sea, it offers some fascinating parallels with the practical impacts of infection/epidemiology. Neatly packaged in a horror/sci-fi/adventure-style story akin to Alien or The Abyss, this does seem to be a bit of a film for our times.

I’m not sure how much of an Irish production this is and I haven’t seen the movie as yet but the trailer looks interesting and the international cast give some credible performances (and accents, for once!).

The blurb for the movie is as follows:

Siobhán’s a marine biology student who prefers spending her days alone in a lab. She has to endure a week on a ragged fishing trawler, where she’s miserably at odds with the close-knit crew. But out in the deep Atlantic, an unfathomable life form ensnares the boat. When members of the crew succumb to a strange infection, Siobhán must overcome her alienation and anxiety to win the crew’s trust, before everyone is lost.

You can find the trailer for it here: