In the late 1960’s, in Belfast, lives Buddy (Jude Hill).  His imaginative playtime is interrupted by the onset of The Troubles, a decades-long socioeconomic clash that consumed Northern Ireland.  Back at home, his mother (Caitriona Balfe) struggles to run the house with her husband (Jamie Dornan) in England for weeks at a time on a job.  After school, he seeks relationship and life advice from his grandparents (Judi Dench, Ciarán Hinds) or gets into trouble running around town with Moria (Lara McDonnell).  Belfast is changing rapidly, and Buddy, whether he is ready or not, will have to learn to grow up, too. 

Returning to one’s youth in film has long been a common practice in the medium as directors reflect on their younger years, only now do they have the benefit of a lifetime of knowledge and experience to better understand some of the mysteries of their upbringing.  Ingmar Bergman did it in 1982 with his masterwork Fanny and Alexander, creating the gold standard for these personal stories.  in 2018, Alfonso Cuarón put his own twist on the genre by releasing his childhood memory, Roma, as a tribute to his nanny who cared for him.  With Belfast, writer-director Kenneth Branagh brings his semi-autobiographical coming of age story to screens, released by Focus Features.  

Belfast, though only 98 minutes in length, feels a bit confused in its structure.  The immediate assumption is that Buddy is the main character – and for the most part that rings true.  There are many instances where he is seen just out of view of the adults as they discuss heavy topics such as politics, religion, the economy, and relationships. Branagh uses this trick many times throughout the film which helps us gather a better understanding of the world Buddy lives in.  He breaks this pattern, though, quite often cutting to scenes with the neighbors or Buddy’s grandparents when the boy is not around, and it makes it hard to determine who we as an audience are supposed to be following.  Because Branagh gets so creative at times to make sure Buddy is included in the action, even if just part of the background, when he is abandoned to focus on other characters, Buddy’s absence becomes glaring.

The ensemble cast also makes it hard to determine whose story this is exactly. There is a lot of tenderness and sweet anecdotal moments as we follow the scene-stealing Dench and Hinds and their touching and emotional arc. The other main dynamic is between Buddy’s parents and their economic struggles which causes extreme strain on their marriage. The film places a lot of emphasis on the kindling of a relationship between Buddy and his classmate Catherine (Olive Tennant) in Act 1 and then does nothing with it until the final moments of the film. All of this leaves next to no time for the development of Will (Lewis McAskie), Buddy’s older and – at least by the film – ignored brother.     

As the true main character and a constant throughout the film, it is hard to tell if Belfast is a good or bad place to be.  Everyone romanticizes it yet no one wants to stay.  The notable exception is Buddy, but he really does not have strong enough reasons to want to remain in his deteriorating town. Sure, he is a child and change can be scary, but the reasons the film gives are regulated to D, E, and F plotlines as it caters to other, admittedly and thankfully, more interesting stories.  It is a glaring instance where the unfocused narrative overcomplicates Belfast making it in-the-moment charming, but as a whole piece rather hollow and empty. 

Despite its unfocused storytelling, the film boasts a well-crafted visual language.  There are many patterns that the film sets up in the first half so that as life keeps changing, we notice the gravity of it all when the patterns finally break.  A scene in the classroom or a shot of a horse’s saddle are two prime examples. Haris Zambarloukos’ black and white photography is very simply conceived on-screen with minimal heavy shadowing so everything in the frame is quite legible.  There are no fancy camera tricks here, instead, he favors steady, medium and wide shots which make the moments of action and close-ups all that more impactful.  It is competently made, but the choice to shoot in black and white seems rather uninspired.  It allows the moments of color to truly pop, but it is hard to say that this choice has any real purpose besides being shorthand for reliving a memory. 

It is always a bit difficult to talk about these films critically as, like biopics, they are covering someone’s life and experience.  That Belfast does not lean heavily enough into magical realism like Cinema Paradiso (1988) or examine real-world strife through the eyes of a child as seen in The Tin Drum (1979), or even truly just allow Buddy to revel in the follies of playtime like The Little Fugitive (1953) is not an insult to Branagh’s story.  It is instead an observation that the execution of these tried-and-true themes and ideas are not as fully realized in Belfast as they are in other works.  In defense of Belfast, however, Buddy, though not entirely angelic, is a much more palpable entry point to the film than budding-percussionist Oskar or the bratty Coney Island vagabond Joey.