THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN

Here is the decision plainly. This is a dark comedy with real craft and a few genuinely funny, tender moments — but it is finally too dark, morose and depressing to recommend, and its content earns the caution.

The premise is grim enough: one old friend simply decides he's done with another, and threatens to cut off his own fingers to make the point stick. He does exactly that. The feud escalates into attempted murder, more mutilation, and even the death of a beloved little donkey. Add excessive foul language, gruesome images, and full frontal nudity, and the tally climbs quickly.

There are grace notes — a stirring speech about the simple worth of being kind. But the film lets that kindness lose, and leaves you in the cold.

So our answer is simple: skip it. There are richer, kinder ways to spend an evening.

It's 1923, on an isolated island off the coast of Ireland. Pádraic, a good-natured dairy farmer, waits for his old friend Colm to join him on their daily walk to the pub — as they always have.

But Colm won't come. He tells Pádraic, flatly, that he no longer wants to be friends. When Pádraic presses for a reason, Colm finally gives one: he finds Pádraic dull, and he'd rather spend what time he has left on things that matter. Pádraic can't let it go. And Colm has made a terrible promise about what will happen if he keeps trying to talk.

Two stars, and here's what they mean. There's evident skill here — the performances land, the humor sometimes genuinely lands, and the film reaches for real tenderness in scenes like Pádraic's heartfelt plea for simple kindness.

But the movie's spirit works against it. It commits so fully to being dark, morose and depressing that the warmth never gets to breathe. Gruesome violence and a cruel streak — right down to the fate of a harmless pet donkey — leave the whole thing feeling punishing rather than illuminating. What might have been a sharp fable about friendship instead sinks into bleakness. A competent film that chooses despair.

This is a strongly humanist film. Set on an isolated island, its answers to a bitter personal conflict are entirely secular. The characters attend Catholic church and go to confession, but the film suggests it makes no real difference — especially to the men, and especially to the two friends at its center, whose feud only deepens.

The story does gesture at something better. Pádraic mounts a passionate moral case against Colm's cruelty, arguing for the plain goodness of being nice. Colm is briefly impressed — and then unmoved. The film respects the argument for kindness but refuses to let kindness win, which is much of why it lands as despairing rather than redemptive.

Around the edges, darkness gathers: Pádraic's sensible sister concludes the island's isolation has driven the men mad and leaves for the mainland; an elderly woman is treated as some kind of witch; and it emerges that the local constable has been abusing his adult son for years. It is a world with confession booths but no visible mercy.

Underneath the feud is a real ache — the human longing to be known and valued, and to belong. Scripture answers that longing not with cutting friends off but with patient, forgiving love: "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you" (Ephesians 4:32).

There's talent on this island — sharp performances, flashes of humor and heart, one lovely plea for kindness. But the film chooses despair, gore, and a heavy load of profanity over any of that light, so our answer stands: skip it. Looking for something warmer for the family tonight? Start with our latest family-friendly picks.