The Banshees of Inisherin
The Banshees of Inisherin
Two lifelong friends find themselves at an impasse when one abruptly ends their relationship, with alarming consequences for both of them.
CrossCutCritic reviewedApril 25, 2025
"The Restless Heart on Inisherin: An Augustinian Exegesis of The Banshees of Inisherin"
Martin McDonagh’s The Banshees of Inisherin offers an unflinching portrait of human pride, despair, and the collapse of community in a fallen world. Though secular and understated, the film invites profound theological reflection, especially through the lens of Augustinian thought. This exegesis explores how the film embodies central Augustinian themes: the soul's inward turn (incurvatus in se), the false pursuit of earthly immortality, the breakdown of charity in the "City of Man," and the restless longing for something beyond the ruins of human striving. Ultimately, The Banshees of Inisherin is a cinematic meditation on Augustine's conviction that "our hearts are restless until they rest in You."
Introduction: The Restless Heart on an Island of Isolation
Augustine of Hippo famously declared that human beings are created for God and can find no true peace apart from Him. Beneath the surface of Martin McDonagh's The Banshees of Inisherin — a bleak, tragicomic tale set on a remote Irish island during the Irish Civil War — lies a poignant dramatization of Augustine’s anthropology. Characters torn between pride, despair, and longing mirror Augustine's view of the fallen soul: one curved inward upon itself, seeking satisfaction in created things rather than the Creator. As the village of Inisherin descends into bitterness and violence, the film becomes an unintended theological parable about the self-destruction of the "City of Man" when charity is eclipsed by pride.
The Inward Turn: Incurvatus in Se on Inisherin
At the heart of The Banshees of Inisherin is the collapse of a friendship. Colm's abrupt decision to sever ties with Pádraic, once his loyal companion, is motivated by a newly awakened desire for personal greatness. Colm seeks to compose music that will outlive him, abandoning the simple joys of daily communion. His turn inward — away from relationship and toward self-focused legacy — mirrors Augustine's description of sin as incurvatus in se: the soul "curved inward upon itself." Rather than finding life in love of neighbor, Colm embraces isolation in pursuit of immortality, mutilating himself — quite literally — in a vain attempt to master death.
Pádraic, by contrast, begins as a figure of natural charity: kind, affable, and grounded in the rhythms of village life. Yet even he is not immune to the soul's inward turn. As rejection wounds his pride, bitterness festers, and he too slides into anger and retribution. Both men, once bound by ordinary affection, spiral into mutual destruction when wounded pride supplants humble love.
Pride and the Desire for False Immortality
Augustine consistently taught that pride (superbia) is the fundamental sin that distorts all human striving. Colm’s obsession with being "remembered" reflects this condition. In severing friendship to pursue artistic immortality, Colm enacts Augustine’s tragic insight: earthly fame is a vapor, and to cling to it is to lose both oneself and one’s neighbor.
"What is it to be remembered by men who themselves must die?"
Rather than finding transcendence through self-emptying love, Colm attempts to achieve it through self-glorification. His mutilation, his broken friendships, and his final isolation all testify to the futility of seeking eternal significance in the transient echoes of human acclaim.
The Collapse of Community: The City of Man at the Edge of the World
The village of Inisherin, ostensibly a tight-knit community, reveals itself as a microcosm of Augustine's "City of Man": a place where self-love reigns to the contempt of neighbor and God. Gossip, cruelty, abuse, and petty revenge infect the social fabric. Even the broader backdrop of the Irish Civil War — a conflict rooted in fratricidal pride — serves as a grim parallel to the island's smaller-scale implosions.
Without the charity that orders human relations toward the common good, Inisherin becomes a site of disintegration. The natural community fractures under the weight of pride, resentment, and despair. The film’s persistent bleakness reflects Augustine’s vision that without divine grace, even the best human communities collapse into mutual harm.
Signs of Hope? Siobhán as Pilgrim Soul
In a film otherwise steeped in fatalism, Siobhán, Pádraic's sister, offers a glimmer of hope. Dissatisfied with the island’s smallness, cruelty, and stagnation, she seeks a life beyond Inisherin. Her departure is not driven by pride but by a yearning for goodness, truth, and beauty — faint echoes of Augustine’s pilgrim soul longing for the heavenly city.
Siobhán’s movement away from Inisherin suggests that not all hearts are doomed to curve inward indefinitely; some retain the capacity to journey toward a greater love.
Conclusion: No Rest Without God
The Banshees of Inisherin captures, with haunting beauty and bitter irony, Augustine's core insight: human beings are made for love, for communion, for God — and without Him, all striving leads to ruin. Colm's mutilated body, Pádraic's smoldering bitterness, and the decaying village stand as monuments to the restless heart refusing its true rest. Even in its secular guise, the film serves as a theological parable for the modern age: without grace, even our best desires — for greatness, for friendship, for significance — collapse into ashes.