The Cycle of Violence: A Review of “That They May Face the Rising Sun”
“That They May Face the Rising Sun” (original title “Kneecap”) is a raw and unflinching portrayal of generational trauma and simmering conflict in the Irish countryside. The film explores how cycles of violence and unspoken resentments can poison families and communities, leaving scars that run deeper than any physical wound.
A Landscape of Resentment
Michael (Christopher Abbott), a sheep farmer, is a man of few words, his emotional landscape as barren as the hills he tends. His upbringing under the stern and demanding Ray (Colm Meaney) instilled in him a deep-seated fear and deference to authority. A tragic car accident years ago, triggered by his mother’s attempt to leave Ray, resulted in her death and left Michael’s then-girlfriend, Caroline (Nora-Jane Noone), with a permanent scar. Now, Caroline is married to Gary (Paul Ready), Ray’s long-time rival, with whom he shares the hill and constantly bickers over territory. Their son, Jack (Barry Keoghan), becomes the catalyst that unleashes decades of pent-up animosity.
Christopher Abbott as Michael in “That They May Face the Rising Sun”
A Multifaceted Perspective
Director Chris Andrews masterfully constructs the narrative, offering the audience multiple perspectives. We initially see the story through Michael’s eyes, then through Jack’s. These viewpoints don’t contradict each other but rather amplify the pervasive sense of impending doom. The Irish wilderness itself becomes a character, silently witnessing the unfolding drama. Cinematographer Nick Cook captures the beauty of the landscape, but also its constricting nature. Nature is not merely a backdrop but a living, breathing entity that sustains the people, who are sadly blinded by their thirst for revenge. The camera breathes with the characters, overwhelmed by their emotions, frantically darting across the gray landscape, as if afraid of being trapped there forever. It trembles in moments of rage, trembles in moments of calm, only occasionally lingering on the faces of the characters, peering into the dark wells of their eyes, searching for hope, but finding nothing but dull, viscous fatigue. It seems that in a moment, the camera will turn away from the people, frightened by their endless squabbles.
Barry Keoghan as Jack in “That They May Face the Rising Sun”
The Language of Violence
For these characters, violence becomes the only means of communication. Michael’s outward calm masks a volcano of rage, fueled by childhood traumas. Jack is just beginning to tread a similar path. He struggles to maintain his independence, but the constant parental conflicts, poverty, and the influence of a criminal friend push him toward a mistake, drawing him into a bloody vortex with no escape.
The first act of violence involves the killing of sheep. The camera averts its gaze from the animals, focusing instead on the growing horror in Keoghan’s eyes as he grasps the full extent of the atrocity. When the death of innocents becomes just another tool in the struggle for dominance, something snaps within Jack. What cannot be articulated with words is expressed through gestures, glances, labored breathing, and silence. And instead of people, sheep scream heart-wrenchingly.
Barry Keoghan as Jack in “That They May Face the Rising Sun”
Echoes of History
The personal drama of these two families mirrors the larger conflict between Ireland and England. The language spoken by the characters becomes a code, defining their allegiance. Michael and Ray communicate in Gaelic, while Gary and Jack speak exclusively in English. Caroline, fluent in both languages, serves as a bridge. Nora-Jane Noone’s character is trapped in a world where she doesn’t belong. She longs to escape, stating her desire to work in Cork. Caroline is reminiscent of another Noone - the heroine from another Irish film, Peter Mullan’s “The Magdalene Sisters” - a rebellious woman who does not want to put up with imposed frameworks (in this case, with the frameworks of a conflict alien to her).
Perhaps the most tragic aspect of the film is the men’s inability to communicate. It’s not that they truly hate each other; they simply lack the means to express their feelings except through displays of power. The characters don’t talk: they suspect, seek confirmation of their fears, and then act swiftly, without considering the consequences. This vicious cycle of violence destroys families, destinies, and lives. “That They May Face the Rising Sun” is not only a personal drama and a reflection of the Anglo-Irish conflict but also a parable about humanity as a whole, about the tendency to repeat the mistakes of the past, without understanding the origins. About people who carry the anger of generations, forgetting where it all began.
“That They May Face the Rising Sun” is a film without winners, because violence does not bring liberation. One can continue the dance of hatred, step by step repeating the movements of ancestors, or one can finally break the circle, exhale and leave. Chris Andrews invites everyone to make their own choice.