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The beats are in and the Brits are out in Rich Peppiatt’s delightfully provocative film about the poetics and politics of Irish rap.

A review by Panagiota Stoltidou

Belfast, 2010s. Naoise Ó Cairealláin and Liam Óg proudly identify as “low-life scum.” They get high, party, sleep in, and fuck around in matching neon tracksuits. Like most of the North of Ireland, they are still grappling with the aftermath of the Troubles or, as they like to call it, “the moment after the moment.” In the streets of Belfast, history lingers in the graffiti of run-down walls. In Naoise and Liam’s lives, it reverberates as frustrated lyrics in their native tongue. Kneecap is the semi-autobiographical origin story of the eponymous band that rose to fame with songs about Irish freedom and cultural resistance. London-born Peppiatt, who moved to Belfast after marrying his Irish wife and took Gaelic lessons in preparation for the film, partly attributed the awe he felt when he first saw Kneecap perform to the fact that “anyone spoke Irish in the UK, let alone young people.”

Peppiatt tactically establishes Naoise and Liam’s reluctance to conform to the English-language paradigm with a fictionalized flashback. No older than ten, the two sit on a living room floor and listen attentively as Naoise’s IRA operative father (Michael Fassbender) lectures them on resistance: “Every Irish word spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom.” When we meet adult Naoise and Liam for the first time, this dictum appears to have been reduced to a mere echo in the inebriated inertia of their lives. Yet after their latest run-in with the police and Liam’s subsequent arrest, things take an unexpected turn.

In the interrogation room, Liam refuses to speak English and they call in an interpreter, the high school music teacher J.J. Ó Dochartaigh. It’s a smartly realized scene, equal parts hilarious and momentous, as the two form an unlikely linguistic alliance under the watchful eye of the English police officer. J.J. confiscates Liam’s notebook before the detective has a chance to read through its incriminating contents and it is there that he encounters Liam’s scribblings in their native Irish. Fascinated both by their musicality and their political promise for language awareness –J.J.’s girlfriend leads the An Dream Dearg campaign for language equality and protection–, he invites the boys over to his garage and makes a case for a collab on his DJ controller. Though skeptical at first, the boys are flattered by J.J.’s enthusiasm and agree to record a song. The deal is sealed with a ketamine trip and flashy stage names: J.J. now goes by DJ Próvaí; Naoise by Móglai Bap; and Liam by Mo Chara.

As Kneecap gain momentum, emerging from the sweaty haze of empty pubs to perform sold out gigs across the country, the difficulties pile up. The rap trio has been notorious for their bad language and drug references, and their first song “C.E.A.R.T.A.” (“Rights”) was banned from the Irish National Radio. Beyond the broader showdown between English and Irish, Peppiatt’s film crucially addresses a more obscure but equally relevant tension–that between tracksuit politician and peaceful protester. At first, it was the people that shared Kneecap’s cause who showed the fiercest resistance to their music, perhaps out of fear that their enfant terrible vibes and the nastiness of their Irish-language lyrics would reflect badly on their own attempts to preserve the language. The plot acknowledges this complexity in a clever way: we see J.J.’s girlfriend condemning Kneecap on national television as he is getting ready for another performance, tricolor balaclava and all.

Ultimately, however, the two struggles complement each other. DJ Próvaí performs at night, but spends his days protesting on the streets. Kneecap delivers a timely, sophisticated snapshot of a community at the historical crossroads before the 2021 Official Languages Amendment Act: lost and suspicious of its own at times, yet defiantly united in its effort to preserve a language that the state refuses to acknowledge. This is a film that brims and teems with the knowledge that languages make stories, and stories make nations. It’s an inspiring watch with a booming score and a big heart.