'Kneecap' Review

If there’s any lesson that’s been beaten over our heads in the hundreds of music biopics that Hollywood has churned out, it’s that nothing good happens after the protagonist is introduced to sex and drugs. The once-promising star quickly goes off the rails, resulting in their friends and family telling them that they’ve changed and the producers to turn off the money faucets. But what if the sex and drugs had been there from the beginning and served as the main catalyst for their work? Would that person spiral out of control before they even got started, or would that rambunctious free spiritism catapult them into stardom with the younger generation?

In the case of Kneecap, the outcome to that question seems to align closer to that of the latter portion. Formed in 2017, the titular hip-hop trio continues to sell out stadiums and other high-profile gigs, a far cry from the lowly pubs they originated from. Their lyrics, often filled to the brim with drug references and cursing, resonate with the youth of their native Belfast, a city that’s seen its fair share of political and social troubles.

Although the aspect of drugs helps this fictionalized origin story from falling into the same traps of every other music biopic, it doesn’t fully exonerate the film from often striking all the other same notes. As a playful and endearing middle finger to Kenneth Branagh’s Osar-winning Belfast, we open with a record-scratch piece of narration where we’re told that this isn’t going to be the story of Belfast that Hollywood loves. Car bombings and IRA shootouts are reserved only for archival footage, although the ramifications of the violence are still present decades later.

Arlo (Michael Fassbender) was one of those freedom fighters, and he teaches his son Naoise Irish Gaelic as “every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom.” That kind of rough patriotism sticks within the boy as he grows up, eventually merging with his love of rap/hip-hop. Taking the stage name Móglaí Bap, he partners with his best friend Liam Óg to come up with the lyrics, while school music teacher JJ mixes the beats.

The mixture of Gaelic and English lyrics represents the clashing of identities within Belfast. Despite being the native language of the land and its people, Gaelic is endangered and nearing extinction. While others are forming campaigns teaching classes, Kneecap is bringing the language to the youth in a way they can understand, and in a manner that matches the brutality the Brits have enacted.

The relevancy and immediacy of this story bring authenticity, which writer/director Rich Peppiatt and the group increase by having the members play themselves and the majority of the dialogue being in Gaelic. Just as you wouldn’t be able to tell that the boys are gifted rappers just by looking at them, the same goes for their acting chops. That swagger from their music is always present in their demeanor.

Their underdog story of defying the establishment is a bit cliché, especially with the demeaning authority figures and Fassbender’s uneven appearances that only serve to hammer home the political repercussions of the group’s actions. Still, it’s infinitely better than any studio-funded, estate-approved biopic, something that the market is oversaturated with.