Say Nothing Says Too Much

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As someone who hails from Northern Ireland and grew up during The Troubles, I find myself deeply moved yet somewhat disheartened by the recent adaptation of Anna Burns’ Booker Prize-winning novel, “Milkman,” titled “Say Nothing.

In the debut of “Say Nothing”, FX’s nine-episode rendition based on Patrick Radden Keefe’s intricately researched book about The Troubles, a teenage Dolours Price (Lola Petticrew) and her sister Marian (Hazel Doupe) find themselves in a nonviolent march led by Catholics seeking peace. However, their peaceful demonstration turns into a terrifying ordeal when their police escort stops, cornering them on the road. British loyalists then emerge from a hill and charge down to brutally attack men, women, and children with stones and clubs. The use of shaky handheld cameras intensifies the fear felt by Dolours and Marian as they flee through a creek, but are soon surrounded by a mob trying to drown them. In the second episode, a British undercover unit pursues and indiscriminately fires at Brendan “The Dark” Hughes (Anthony Boyle), a Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) operative who planned many of their violent actions, as he dashes through Belfast’s terraced houses and barricaded streets. Later, the local PIRA leader Gerry Adams is forcibly removed from his home, taken to British barracks, and subjected to hours of brutal torture in an attempt to force him to confess to his work with the resistance group. A jazzy melody offers a strange contrast to scenes depicting Gerry being viciously punched, thrown against walls, and waterboarded.

The show could benefit from including more scenes that provide historical context and depict the day-to-day effects of The Troubles in Northern Ireland. While it effectively portrays the actions taken by the PIRA as they strive for freedom, it lacks sufficient explanation of the reasons behind these extreme measures. This story is about occupation and resistance, but without a comprehensive understanding of why this conflict exists and what living under an occupying force entails – in terms of psychological impact, shifting priorities, and altered perspective on human life – the series may seem excessively narrow or even romanticize the PIRA as reckless and insensitive actors. One British soldier standing on a corner hardly seems worth the violence portrayed.

Say Nothing constructs a riveting storyline about the radicalization, subsequent remorse, and enforced silence of characters like Dolours, Marian, Brendan, and Gerry. These individuals serve as stand-ins for the organization and embody the show’s focus on how it fostered a culture of secrecy. The artwork used to market the series cleverly mirrors this approach, featuring an image of Dolours making the same hushing gesture that PIRA members in the TV adaptation use to silence others. However, the original 1970s magazine photograph, which serves as the basis for the marketing material, shows a more defiant Dolours, her arms crossed and her gaze unwavering. Altering the image from one emphasizing Dolours’s defiance to one highlighting the PIRA’s menace reveals one of Say Nothing‘s fundamental weaknesses: The series lacks depth in its portrayal of Belfast as a whole and fails to convey how growing up in such an environment for generations leads people to embrace loyalty, deception, and extreme violence. In the words of Keefe, “it provides an intoxicating sense of camaraderie and purpose, a bond that could appear unbreakable.

“Don’t they realize there’s a war going on?” Yet, these bitter comments and anecdotes about sacrifice lack the powerful emotional impact of Dolours and Marian’s tragic journey or The Dark’s desperate escape. Instead, they emphasize the novel’s tendency to tell rather than show events.

In essence, the nine episodes don’t give ample room to convey all the intricacies of Keefe’s book. The series only hints at the reasons behind the divide between unionists (predominantly Protestant) and nationalists (mainly Catholic), suggesting a deep-rooted ideological chasm that seemed insurmountable. However, it doesn’t fully convey the daily struggles and hardships experienced by those living under occupation.

As a passionate reader, I find it intriguing that Keefe’s masterful reconstruction of British and Protestant aggression in “Say Nothing” seems to be partially omitted in its TV adaptation. The Battle of the Bogside in 1969 Belfast, for instance, was marked by Protestant gangs setting fire to Catholic homes and forcing thousands of Catholics to flee the city, turning them into refugees, as Keefe describes, “waiting for a southbound train to the Republic.” A 1970 attack on Belfast’s Lower Falls saw an overwhelming presence of British soldiers, who tragically crushed a man with one of their armored vehicles before indiscriminately destroying homes while supposedly searching for weapons. This was done with such disproportionate force that it seemed like retribution.

In its later scenes, the film focuses on the expressive faces of characters like Dolours (Maxine Peake) who shows remorse after admitting her part in Jean McConville’s disappearance, and Brendan (Tom Vaughan-Lawlor) whose expression shifts to shocked disapproval when Adams (Michael Colgan), now established in a political career, denies any past affiliation with the PIRA. However, it falls short in providing the necessary historical context that could allow viewers not only to be astonished by these characters’ actions but also comprehend their motivations. Consequently, many supporting civilian characters who are committed to the cause – such as the residents at Divis Flats trying to reassure Jean about community solidarity, the man hiding Brendan in his home during pursuit, or the barkeepers at a PIRA-linked pub – are portrayed as villainous figures. They only appear on screen to menace or express blind loyalty to a cause that grows more harmful and futile; there’s little exploration into their inner lives, making the film feel one-dimensional.

This statement doesn’t imply that “Say Nothing” should have supported or justified the PIRA’s reprisal actions. However, other series with comparable themes of political awakening seem to present a more balanced perspective. For instance, consider the thought-provoking “Ramy” episode “Egyptian Cigarettes,” which explores how the relentless hardships in Palestine can drive someone to extremes, or the finale of “Andor,” titled “Rix Road,” where the Empire’s presence at a community leader’s funeral symbolizes its disregard for lives lost under its oppressive rule. Similarly, “Derry Girls” – another series about The Troubles directed by Michael Lennox, who also worked on “Say Nothing” – was a comedy set in the mid-’90s that skillfully integrated insightful commentary and historical context into each episode.

In the 2018 debut, British soldiers armed with rifles inspect school buses at military checkpoints during a time when some Catholics were supportive of Irish independence yet cautious about the potential effect of an undetonated bomb on their daily routines (“How long until we can safely defuse this bomb?”). One subplot involves an English boy being compelled to attend a girls’ school due to possible threats from young Irish men; the episode’s most humorous moment occurs when he is forced to urinate in a bucket during detention, and an Irish classmate mockingly comments, “That’s just how the English behave. Barbaric.” The scene plays with nationalist stereotypes while also shedding light on the characters’ mindset after providing several reasons for these prejudices. It is important to note that these depictions are fictional, while the book Say Nothing is based on real historical accounts. Given this, it seems beneficial to delve deeper into the actual history rather than focusing solely on the weight of silence, as the adaptation may unintentionally trivialize the harsh realities of occupation.

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2024-12-11 17:54