Tarrac

Sweet, uplifting, a little bit cliched, and painted beautifully on to the screen before you. That’s Tarrac, an understated story with a twist in its underdog tale. You know the sort of thing. Out group takes up oddball sport. No-one rates their chances of getting off the starting blocks, let alone booking any serious success. Then they start to get it together, often prompted by the revelation and resolution of some life-shattering secret, gnawing away at the guts of one or more in the team. Tears. Anger. Harsh words. But in the final reel…

We all know what happens in the final reel; it’s hardly spoiler to hint at that. For the craft in such films is not the end – well, mostly not the end, as the ending to Tarrac is as clever and under-stated as the rest of it – but in the journey. It is what we discover along the way, tragic, funny, and all stations between, that is important.

So it is here. Aoife (Kelly Brough) returns home to help her father (Lorcan Cranitch), known locally as Bear, recover from a heart attack. After a trip to the local pub, she finds herself pulled back into naomhóg rowing, a sport traditional to Kerry, in South-West Ireland, where this is set, and in which she excelled when young.

Cue, also, a backstory about this being a family tradition; sprinkle in a touch of grief over the death of Aoife’s mother, from cancer, a few years previously; add less-than-perfect father-daughter relationship and finally, some unhealthy alcohol habits. There you have it: a recipe for what turns out to be, as the blurb has it, “an intimate character study and exciting sports drama set”.

There’s some good support from the rest of the crew Naomi (Rachel Feeney), Jude (Kate Nic Chonaonaigh) and Aisling (Kate Finegan); and an intriguing, asexual performance from Noellie (Cillian O'Gairbhi), Naomi’s cousin.

Clearing the decks: I am mostly a sucker for underdog films, but… the closer they approximate to real sport, or deep and worthy, the more likely I am to bail out early on. Dodgeball is somewhat more my level than, say, Knute Rockne, All American (“Go out, and win one for the Gipper”).

Tarrac is the exception that proves the rule. It engages from the very beginning, filling the screen with real, flawed, down-to-earth characters. No place here for Hollywood airbrushed beauty: pot bellies abound. People are flawed.

The film could almost be a fly-on-the-wall documentary. What sets it aside is strong and driving narrative arc, some very clever, subtle, dialogue and some moments of real tension when the naomhóg team are competing. But the latter never gets to dominate so – phew! – not too much sport.

As deserving of mention, almost a character in its own right, is the landscape and backdrop to the film: the stunning coasts of the Kerry ‘Gaelteacht’. There is something very… Irish about this and it is picked out in loving detail by camerawork that hints at a passion for the image. Not just the scenery, though. Over and over, I found my breath caught by the composition and focus of what, in a lesser film, might have been shot as mundane, everyday.

Here, though, everything connects, whether it is the team out at sea rowing, or just carrying the boat, or Bear, singing a late-night, maudlin song in the bar. This is the other subtle presence in Tarrac: for, to visual delight, add a soft, finely-tuned soundtrack from musical producer and multi-instrumentalist, Kormac. You know the film score is good when after it is over, you make a not to hunt down and listen to other works by the composer.

Last, but by no means least – a joy to someone such as myself, who loves language – Tarrac is that rarest of films, performed and delivered in Gaelic. (Gaeltacht is a district of Ireland, where the Irish language is recognised as the predominant speech spoken).

The whole is a credit to director, Declan Recks, and writer, Eugene O’Brien.