Ballywalter: an intimate, low-key Northern Irish comedy

From Odd Man Out (1947) to Wildfire (2021), Northern Ireland has often been used as a backdrop for stories about damaged souls and broken relationships. And while Prasanna Puwanarajah’s debut feature arguably does the same, it feels refreshingly lighthearted in its approach. His film, the tender and touching Ballywalter, is far more concerned with what connects rather than divides us.

This isn’t to say the director paints a postcard picture of the North. “The arsehole of nowhere!” is how Eileen (Seána Kerslake) elegantly describes her hometown of Ballywalter. A prickly college dropout, we meet her in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, caught in a cycle of casual hook-ups and dead-end jobs. Her time as a taxi driver sends her into the orbit of another lost soul, Shane (Patrick Kielty). Wounded by the breakdown of his marriage, he’s attempting to rebuild himself through stand-up comedy. What starts as a series of chilly encounters soon thaws into an unlikely friendship as the two realise they’re battling similar demons.

The stage is set for a run-of-the-mill feel-good weepie, but screenwriter Stacey Gregg has other ideas. While Puwanarajah proves a steady-hand behind the camera, grounding the drama in intimate realism, it’s Gregg’s wickedly funny script that saves Ballywalter from dissolving into a syrupy melodrama. Its humour feels keenly authentic, punctuated with a variety of local flourishes – not least Eileen’s sharp, dry delivery of the phrase “ballbag!” (an insult, or a term of endearment, depending on what the moment calls for). 

Of course, it helps having someone as charismatic as Kerslake in the lead role. From the wreckage of Eileen’s personal life, the actor builds a performance filled with angst and vulnerability. Though reminiscent of her breakout turn in A Date for Mad Mary (2016), Ballywalter shows off deeper shades of Kerslake’s talent, and allows for a nuanced portrayal of grief. More impressive, still, is that the Dublin-born actor does all this while pulling off the Belfast brogue. 

Similarly, Kielty – to whom the Northern lilt comes naturally – draws a measured and empathic performance as Shane. Here, the real-life comedian’s trademark vivacity is drained from his face, making him the perfect foil for the acid-tongued Eileen. She’s naturally funny, whereas Shane – not so much. Try as he might, Shane’s stand-up routines will more likely make you cringe than chuckle. 

Ballywalter’s delightfully daffy side characters – Shane’s comedy pals and Eileen’s taxi passengers – help capture a little of Belfast’s vibrant spirit. Puwanarajah buries any trace of the city’s post-conflict trauma in the film’s subtext, letting it surface through glimpses of murals and the heavy, overcast skies above.

It’s on one particularly murky day that Shane delivers his most incisive joke: “Being depressed is hard work.” And while Ballywalter, too, is prone to moments of darkness, it lets the sunlight poke through the clouds every now and then.

 ► Ballywalter is in UK cinemas now.