A beautifully executed synthesis of tragedy and humour.
Completed in the same spare style as Adam & Paul, the second collaboration between director Lenny Abrahamson and writer Mark O’Halloran is a remarkably assured work that withstands comparison to the Dardenne brothers. At times unbearably poignant, Garage weaves tragedy with comedy to tell a beautifully drawn tale from the margins of contemporary Irish life.
Regarded by his neighbours as a harmless misfit, eliciting benign tolerance and occasional abuse, Josie (Pat Shortt) has spent all his adult life as the caretaker of a crumbling petrol station on the outskirts of a small town. Childlike and lonely, Josie is also relentlessly optimistic and, in his own peculiar way, happy.
But over the course of summer his world suffers a shift when a shy teenager, David (Conor Ryan), comes to work with him. Initially performing their menial tasks in silence, they tentatively open up and soon Josie is drinking cans down at the railway tracks with the local kids.
This awakens dormant needs, leading to an awkward tilt at intimacy with local shop girl Carmel (Anne-Marie Duff). But following a single thoughtless moment, events begin to spiral from Josie’s faltering grasp.
Tender though never sentimental, Garage is also sobreringly realistic in its portrait of a closeted community for whom drinking, brawling and fucking are the main entertainments. The town’s inhabitants seldom leave, descending instead into a mire of frustration and rancour; Anne-Marie Duff in particular brilliantly radiates a resigned foresight of her future.
Incidents such as a local man drowning a newborn litter of pups are handled with perfect restraint, further contributing to the darkness that sits at the film’s core and which assumes increasing portent as it progresses to a powerful conclusion.
Taut and economical in both script and style (an overriding minimalism extends to the use of a single music cue), Peter Robertson’s frills-free photography and well-judged use of natural lighting nonetheless lends the film an austere beauty, not least in its depiction of a landscape largely unscathed by the ravages of time.
At the forefront of its numerous virtues are a host of perfectly played performances. Irish comedian Pat Shortt excels, giving subtle glimpses of inner life while imbuing his character with.
Though well regarded on the festival circuit, Abrahamson remains something of an unknown quantity.
A beautifully executed synthesis of tragedy and humour.
Seek this out, you won’t be disappointed.
