The Fleabags of Inisherin: Warrior Women and Feckin’ Boring Men

Screenwriting power couple Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Martin McDonagh have written some of the UK’s most heart-warming, heart-breaking and belly-aching scripts to date by tapping into the depths of the human experience; presenting audiences with brutally honest reflections of their psyche.

Whether it’s through a story of corrupt assassins (Killing Eve, In Bruges) or a collision of comedic misfits (Crashing, Seven Psychopaths), the pair capture the true tragedy of the human condition – giving psychologists a run for their money with their medicinal and cathartic character studies.

Two of their works in particular live side by side when analysing the heated conversation around war and peace within men and women; Fleabag and The Banshees of Inisherin. These projects are undoubtedly standalone masterpieces, however, they marry themselves together through their paralleled, microscopic insights into why men insist on setting the world on fire, while women sit back and laugh.

You’re All Feckin’ Boring

Amidst Colm and Padraic quarrelling over spilt milk (Guinness) in The Banshees of Inisherin, Siobhan (Padraic’s sister), is the only one with an ounce of sense as bitterness, pride and anger clouds the judgement of the arguing duo. While the pain of being abandoned by a friend is a distinct type of heinous heartbreak, the decision plants a rotten seed that grows out of hand and consumes them to the core.

The tone of the film is set just off-shore, through sporadic explosions from the civil war that rages on in the distance: “good luck to ye all, whatever it is ye’re fighting about” – the war continuously offers on-the-nose subtext for the conflict that intensifies between Colm and Padraic. Nobody knows why their hatred is so rife, but now the men (on Inisherin, and at war) have been given a purpose – distracting them from their mundanity:

Colm: This isn’t about Inisherin. It’s about one boring man leaving another man alone, that’s all.

Siobhan: One boring man? You’re all feckin’ boring! With your piddling grievances over nothin’! You’re all feckin’ boring! I’ll see he doesn’t talk to you no more.

Siobhan constantly finds herself yelling rationalities, but her efforts go in one ear and out the other – another woman ignored. As Colm is seemingly more intelligent than Padraic, her attempts at reasoning with him are also dismissed, for pride and stubbornness around being remembered as one of the “greats” takes precedence.

Colm wasted his youth watching time pass him by, now in an existential crisis in his 70’s, he hurts those closest to him due to his own self-loathing. He even speculates that this entire charade is another way of “entertaining meself while I stave off the inevitable.” He can’t even utilise the window of time he demanded efficiently, instead it’s another distraction from death and his own lack of achievement.

As their rivalry grows, Siobhan secures a job at a library on the mainland – the decision causes her to cry herself to sleep and ignite worry for her brother and a new life in the unknown, but she keeps her anxieties to herself; she’s well aware that the small-minded folk on Inisherin are not her counterparts.

Siobhan refuses to let fear hold her back as she sails off into a fruitful future. She writes to her brother telling him: “there’s a spare bed here for ya, Padraic, and with the war almost over, I think there’d be work for you here.” He declines the offer of a hopeful, peaceful existence and chooses violence instead – devoured by rage and heartbreak he sets Colm’s house on fire.

Women Are Born with Pain Built In

As Colm and Padraic mutilate fingers, kill donkeys, punch policemen (fair), and burn down houses, Belinda’s monologue in Fleabag examines why female turmoil is handled in a drastically different manner:

Belinda: “Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny: period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives, men don’t. They have to seek it out, they invent all these gods and demons and things just so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we do very well on our own. And then they create wars so they can feel things and touch each other and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. We have it all going on in here inside, we have pain on a cycle for years and years and years.” – Fleabag (Season 2 Episode 3)

While Fleabag is the fun, flawed friend everyone wishes they had, the purpose of her character is for the exploration of dark and internal pain surrounding subjects of love, sex, grief, sisterhood and feminism. Belinda’s insight into the physical destiny of female pain transcends across all aspects of life as natural, unavoidable suffering puts the rest into perspective.

Yes, Fleabag indulges in harmful, reckless moments, but only the audience know the depths of her demons as they are the voyeurs of her struggling soul. Her actions are driven by the crippling guilt of what happened to her best friend – and as guilt is an empathetic trait, it demonstrates she has a good heart and wants to rectify her wrongdoings. While trapped in a cage of self-condemnation, Fleabag’s dad reminds her that in actuality, she’s more emotionally intelligent than most: “I think you know how to love better than any of us, that’s why you find it all so painful.”

The destructive moments of Fleabag, Colm and Padraic (no matter how bizarre), are always somewhat understood, however, only Fleabag knows when to call it a day. She leans on the audience for two seasons, and when she doesn’t need them anymore/knows it’s time to grow, she looks back, smiles, and leaves them behind – similarly to Siobhan in The Banshees of Inisherin; Siobhan chooses to rise above it and quietly move on, whereas Padraic takes a different route: “Some things there’s no moving on from. And I think that’s a good thing.” The moment he utters those words, the man once known for his “niceness” is now unrecognisable.

The Sixth Sense

As the women in these works choose to rise above, the men sink below as they lack sense in the form of empathy and forgiveness – while the latter is a difficult thing to practice when pain runs deep, it seems to only be exercised within one gender. Forgiveness isn’t black and white, instead it’s nuanced; being able to find peace within a situation as opposed to forgiving the actions of another.

Colm claims to seek peace desperately, but he believes the way to achieve it is through carnage and unkindness, which subsequently releases a venom that spreads through the veins of other impressionable, stubborn men: “To our graves we’re taking this. To one of our graves, anyways.”

The literal banshee of Inisherin (Mrs. McCormick) is the looming example of female temperament within a world full of short-sighted, imbecilic men: “And maybe there are banshees too. I just don’t think they scream to portend death any more. I think they just sit, back amused, and observe.” Colm describes a woman who is right in front of him, but instead he speculates on the folklore.

Mrs. McCormick quietly surveys all moments of death and destruction – witnessing the predestined nightmare men created for themselves. She forbodes tragedy (an undeserved gift for the foolish), but once again, is disregarded as men cannot see past their own gratuitous wants and desires. Ironically, underneath it all, Colm knows the bitter truth; when the quarrelling pair reach a point of no return, Colm tells the priest about his indirect killing of Padraic’s donkey:

Priest: “Do you think God gives a damn about miniature donkeys, Colm?”
Colm: “I fear he doesn’t. And I fear that’s where it’s all gone wrong.“

Colm knows that he (and the rest of the men on Inisherin) are nothing but primitive animals without aim or purpose, so he chooses hostility and pain over numbness. His lack of sensibility deprives him of other emotional avenues, whereas the women are presented as otherworldly beings; banshees warning those who lack the sixth sense, and over years of being ignored, the only thing left to do is “sit back, amused, and observe” as men destroy the world and each other – blinded by their own hatred.

Conclusion

Fleabag chooses love and forgives herself, Siobhan immerses herself in literature and gets out of Inisherin, while Mrs. McCormick sits back, laughs and smokes. In the same yet paralleled universe, Padraic loses everyone he’s ever loved, along with kindness (his only redeeming quality), and Colm loses humanity and the ability to play music (his only purpose). These consequences might seem out of ones own control, but they are the outcome of conscious decisions made by each character. People choose their own fate; men choose war, women choose peace.

Waller-Bridge and McDonagh‘s works are banshees in their own right; offering warnings and reflections of a flawed society in desperate need of mending, and the long-lasting impression these stories have over their audience comes down to their unfiltered truth. Fleabag and The Banshees of Inisherin have now become unforgettable, culture-shaping allegories that will forever live in the conscience of their audience.

It’s now the audience’s job to take those lessons and build their own path, knowing what will happen if they choose conflict over clarity. Listen to the banshees – you have been warned.

What other life lessons can be drawn from the works of Waller-Bridge and McDonagh? Share your thoughts and comments!