coming of age

dating amber

Kildare, 1995. Eddie (Fionn O’Shea) and Amber (Lola Petticrew) are in the closet and barely flying under the radar. To quash the rumours circulating around their secondary school about their respective sexualities, they agree to fake a straight relationship and pose as each other’s ‘beards.’ While Amber dreams of escape to a liberal London, Eddie’s life is dominated by his goal of joining the military – the ultimate pillar of heterosexuality in his eyes. Anxious Eddie and brash Amber are framed as polar opposites, with only their hidden sexual orientations and troubled home lives in common. This dichotomy is cleverly offset by the film’s costume design – our queer leads are united in the shared tones of teal, burgundy, and mustard that they sport for close to the entirety of the film.

You might think such a novel subject matter guarantees a certain level of originality but, unfortunately, this is not the case. The character of Amber borders dangerously on caricature, with the lack of nuance in Petticrew’s performance not helping matters. What’s more, Dating Amber (David Freyne, 2020) regularly sacrifices its charming Irish wit for Hollywood clichés that are saccharine at best and plain boring at worst, making for a slightly jarring watch. With that being said, it is

undeniable that Eddie and Amber’s platonic love story is screen-worthy. Before the tug of war between sexual expression and repression forces the relationship to its climax, the humour of their situation is fully exploited, with most of the film’s comic relief coming courtesy of well-written one-liners, sexual gags, and a strong supporting cast. Between the laughs, ever-relevant themes of toxic masculinity and internalised homophobia are explored incisively; this rom-com goes above and beyond the genre requirements. Dating Amber is far from flawless, but its dual portrayal of queerness and coming-of-age in rural Ireland proves to be as entertaining as it is overdue. hana rae quinn

Normal People (Lenny Abrahamson and Hettie Macdonald, 2020) is the story of Marianne (Daisy Edgar-Jones) and Connell (Paul Mescal), tracking their relationship from their final year of secondary school in a small town in Sligo through to their university life at Trinity College in Dublin. Going to college in Trinity and being from Sligo myself, I feel very strongly about how much I love both Sally Rooney’s source novel and its TV adaptation. Particularly impressive is the material’s ability to be very specific and true when depicting different facets of modern life in Ireland while still creating a universal story that resonates globally.

Although it is dealt with more explicitly in the book, the adaptation still explores the issue of classism in Ireland. In this regard, Normal People realistically portrays the difference in attitude towards class in rural Ireland and Dublin. While classism is still rife in rural Ireland, it is not as stark and central to life as it is in the capital. The secondary students’ view of Marianne as a snob due to her combative attitude is reinforced by her wealth. Because the town of Carricklea is portrayed as working class, Connell is easily accepted by his classmates. In Trinity, however, this dynamic is completely reversed. While some view Marianne as fitting into Trinity life due to her intelligence finally being appreciated, it is clear that class plays a huge role in this. Despite the evidence that Connell and Marianne are equally intelligent, the former is often regarded as stupid by the latter’s friends. Connell doesn’t have the right accent, the inherited townhouse, or the upper-middle-class confidence to freely offer up his opinion. Marianne, on the other hand, does. Though her upbringing lacks the love that Connell’s has, her wealth allows her to succeed in a society that values markers of class more than it wants to admit. Moving from a relatively class-neutral setting to one that places so much importance on it can be incredibly unbalancing. One of the most peculiar aspects to life in Trinity is how often people ask about which secondary school you attended. It does not take long to realise that it’s a way to inquire about class. While Normal People was very much an international sensation, its specificity is what endeared it to Irish viewers.

Adapting Normal People to screen was not an inevitable success. In fact, considering the novel’s style, it could easily have fallen apart. The plot of the book does not chart a particularly dramatic sequence of events but, rather, centres on points in time which illustrate the complex nature of an intense romantic relationship. It is heavily reliant on the internal thoughts of both lead characters and how

they interpret (and misinterpret) the other’s feelings. I have never before watched a show that makes such potent use of silence. What is left unsaid is often as important - if not more - than what is. A more on-the-nose adaptation might have used monologues or long-winded speeches to sum up the internal feelings described in the book. Instead, Abrahamson and Macdonald use an intimate, mood-driven style of direction to capture the internal drama. This approach means that the directors must put a lot of trust in their actors and, here, both Mescal and Edgar-Jones shine. Mescal’s performance is especially breathtaking, capturing both the pervasive insecurity and emotional stuntedness that often afflicts young Irish men. Coming from the same county as his character, I was struck by how real he felt; he could easily have been from my class in secondary school.

Normal People simmers with sexiness and raw intimacy, creating a love story that is simultaneously realistic and aspirational, heart-warming and heartbreaking. It is one of the best pieces of Irish media to emerge this decade and perfectly appeals to both international and Irish audiences. kate ryan 29