Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Paul Kennedy
Starring: Ciaran McMenamin, Pat Shortt, Judith Roddy, Gerard Jordan, Kathy Kiera
Clarke
Writer/director Paul Kennedy's first feature since his 2013
debut Made in Belfast opens with a quote from 'Macbeth', and like that play it features
five acts, a manipulative wife and a male protagonist who turns to
devious tactics to ascend to a throne of sorts. But Kennedy draws
influences from far beyond Shakespeare. Dead Man's Money could be mistaken for the work of John B. Keane, Martin McDonagh
or Roald Dahl, and its roster of desperate characters wouldn't be out of
place in one of the Coen Brothers more blackly comic thrillers.
The drama plays out not in the Scottish highlands but in a small
village in Northern Ireland, and for the most part within the walls of
"Kenny's," a pub owned by Old Henry (Pat Shortt) and run by his
nephew Young Henry (Ciarán McMenamin) and the latter's wife Pauline (Judith Roddy). Old Henry also owns a nearby farm and a patch of land, and there's a
not inconsiderable sum of money gathering dust in his bank account. Or
as Young Henry puts it, his uncle "has a pound in his pocket."
When rumours spread that Old Henry may not have long to live, Young
Henry assumes he will receive his uncle's fortune. After all, he's his
only living close relative and sure hasn't he slaved away in the bar and
on the farm all these years? But it seems someone else may have their
eye on the pound in Old Henry's pocket: local glamourpuss Maureen, who
has earned the nickname "The Widow Tweed" (Kathy Kiera Clarke) for having outlived three previous
husbands. Old Henry falls head over heels for Maureen, and Young Henry
begins to worry he may be in danger of losing his inheritance. Egged on
by Pauline, Young Henry approaches former IRA hitman Gerry (Gerard Jordan) with a plan to remove Maureen from the picture.
Despite drawing influence from England's most famous writer, Dead Man's Money is about as Irish as it gets. Subtitles will prove a necessity
for anyone born 20 miles away from its setting, let alone outside
Ireland. It regularly pokes fun at the Irish male's inability to speak
about serious topics. As an Irishman I've always been baffled by the
"Fighting Irish" stereotype, as avoiding confrontation is practically
our national pasttime. Young Henry gets himself into a mess here
specifically because of his unwillingness to confront his uncle and
confirm that he will be taken care of in his will, and also by his
reluctance to go against his wife, who wears the pants in the
relationship and controls her husband with the promise of dropping them
on occasion. In the final act, the Catholic guilt is so palpable that as
a viewer you almost feel as if you've been a party to the characters'
wrongdoing.
With its single location, save for a few brief diversions, Dead Man's Money could be mistaken for an adaptation of a stage play, but Kennedy
ensures its storytelling is never "stagey." Monologues are visually
illustrated with comic vignettes, like the imagined murders of Maureen's
husband or a black and white Night of the Living Dead homage that sees greedy townsfolk swarming like zombies on Old
Henry in search of his fortune. The faces of the characters here often
tell us more than their words, and Kennedy's camera settles on his
actors to allow us to see through the bravado of their tough talk, their
ruffled brows betraying their true feelings as the reality of what
they've set in motion hits home. If Kennedy can create so much tension
and mine so many awkward laughs in the limited setting of a country pub,
I look forward to seeing what he might be capable of creating if a
producer puts more than a pound in his pocket.
Dead Man's Money screened at
the 2024 Belfast film Festival.
