In Brendan Canty’s Berlinale Generation 14plus stunner Christy [+lire aussi :
critique
interview : Brendan Canty
fiche film], a teenage boy (Danny Power) has to exchange a suburban foster home for a much less comfortable residence with a half-brother he barely knows. And yet it might be just what he needs.

Cineuropa: Danny Power has such a unique face: he looks like a child and like an adult. Did you want Christy to be somewhere in between?
Brendan Canty: There’s a line in the film: “Who’s your boyfriend? He looks about 47.” It always makes us laugh because you hit the nail on the head. He’s got an old head on his shoulders. He has the innocent vulnerability of youth but also looks like someone who’s lived a tough life. Danny’s had a tough enough upbringing. It’s a face that says a lot without us having to say it.

These guys don’t really talk about their issues anyway. Does it make it harder when your characters can’t just spell everything out?
It is harder, yes, and you need very intelligent actors. You need someone as special as Danny because, at first, the audience could judge him as a tough kid or someone you wouldn’t want to bump into at night. But he can change their perception. For an actor with not that much experience, he just naturally has it.

Some scenes felt like a documentary. There’s a party, a barbecue, kids are rapping, and it all looks like something you’ve just stumbled upon.
I kind of did, to be honest. The film is set on the north side of Cork, and over there, you have [not-for-profit hub] the Kabin Studio, where my friend Gary has been teaching kids how to make hip-hop music for the last ten or 15 years. Christy was originally a short. When we wanted to cast kids, we went to this place. Since then, I’ve become quite involved up there. I wanted the tone of the film to reflect the tone of the Kabin. It’s a sanctuary where everyone can be themselves. It’s a working-class area and a marginalised community where, I guess, expressing yourself isn’t that common. People are nervous to step outside of the box, but this place encourages it. How could we not have rapping in the film when all these kids are rappers?

All of these supporting characters make your film much lighter. You understand why Christy should actually stay there.
Going back to the short film, at first, the script was more serious. Then we met these kids, who have been through tough situations and the kind of upbringing that’s unimaginable to me. And they are so bright, charming, intelligent and funny. Maybe it’s a middle-class instinct to portray these communities in a sad, serious way. But it’s just not the case. There’s so much humour there, so much strength.

Usually, when you hear about someone going from one foster family to another, you assume they’re completely alone. Christy’s rejected by his own brother.
Shane is the ultimate example of a guy who doesn’t speak and is probably overthinking a lot. Throughout the writing process and in development, I had to defend him a lot. He’s been through trauma himself and is trying to help. He’s been told by social workers that Christy needs to “find a family”. Also, he doesn’t really know him. He has stability, a partner and a kid – he doesn’t want to fuck it up. Christy isn’t doing himself any favours, either.

People don’t communicate here – they don’t talk. Women are the film’s emotional intelligence, but they also try not to impose themselves. They nudge the men in different ways, so that they can finally sort their shit out. Eventually, when the boys face their traumas, they talk a little. It can lead to something better.

You mentioned the short – did you always want to return to this story? It brought to mind films about working-class heroes discovering a hidden talent – like Billy Elliot. But you never go that far.
This Is England [+lire aussi :
bande-annonce
fiche film] was more of a reference. I loved the idea of keeping it small. Christy knows how to cut hair and hears: “You know, there’s a career in it if you want.” And he goes: “Nah.” He doesn’t have the confidence. That’s really reflective of everybody in that area, and probably of other similar communities around the world. They just feel they’re not worthy. A school headteacher told me that kids up there would be more comfortable with the idea of going to the Moon than to the university in the city, which is bonkers! You, and the audience, can see how talented they are.

Someone said I really understand the Irish psyche, but I also made a film in New Zealand about the Samoan community. It was, again, a small story with a big heart. That’s the sort of thing I’m drawn to. With writer Alan O’Gorman, we were trying to write a feature and just couldn’t crack it, so we kind of “parked” it and made the short. Then we met all of these people and left feeling like we’d barely scratched the surface of what’s possible in this world. The feature started to write itself. It’s called Christy, but it’s also an odyssey of him going through this universe: It’s a film about a community. I am so proud that everyone has their moment. No one got left behind.