Stuart Dunne | Through the Shattered Lens

1996’s The Van opens with a depressed Bimbo Reeves (Donal O’Kelly) attempting to drink away his troubled thoughts. As he explains to his friend, Larry (Colm Meaney), he has been “made redundant.” After two decades of working at a Dublin bakery, he has lost his job and, it would appear, his reason for living.

Now, I have to stop right here and point out how disturbing that term sounds. “Made redundant,” sounds like the worst possible way to tell someone that they’re out a job. Admittedly, I don’t live in Ireland or in the UK. Perhaps if I did and if had grown up hearing the term, it wouldn’t disturb me quite so much. But, to my American ears, being told that you’re redundant feels like not only being stabbed but also then having the blade twisted. Not only are you out of a job but you’re also useless. You’re redundant. Here in America, we tell people that they’ve been “fired,” and that obviously carries some disturbing connotations with it as well. The original people to be fired were people who lost their jobs as a result of being burned at the stake. But somehow, going up in flames seems preferable to being told that you’re totally and completely useless.

Bimbo is depressed. Larry, who has a much more easy-going nature than his friend, tries to cheer him up. Afterall, Bimbo has his “redundancy check.” Bimbo and his wife, Maggie (Ger Ryan), purchase a food van and Bimbo decides to go into business for himself. He’ll sell food from his van. After refurbishing the van (which truly did look horrible when it was initially purchased), he’s ready to go into business with Larry as his only employee.

It seems like a good idea and, at first, the food van is a success. Ireland is doing well in the World Cup and it leads to a lot of hungry customers. Unfortunately, it also leads to conflict between Bimbo and Larry as they discover that being a boss and being an employee is a lot different than just being friends. In the end, the question becomes what is more important, the business or the friendship?

Based on a novel by Roddy Doyle, The Van is the third part of the Barrytown trilogy. Despite being named Larry in this film instead of Des, Colm Meaney is basically playing the same character that he played in The Commitments and The Snapper. (Though I’m not sure, I think the film’s opening “1990” title card is meant to let us know that The Van is actually a prequel to those two films.) It’s also the least engaging of the three films, largely because it doesn’t have the narrative momentum provided by the music in The Commitments or the pregnancy in The Snapper. Instead, it’s just a story of two friends who get on each other’s nerves. Donal O’Kelly doesn’t give a bad performance as Bimbo but he’s still overshadowed by Colm Meaney’s charismatic and larger-than-life Larry. As a result, there’s not much of a question as to which friend the audience will side with. Even though Bimbo’s complaints are often justified, we’re on Larry’s side all the way.

The Van is not a particularly memorable film but the message still comes through. Life goes on, in both Dublin and elsewhere.

Sharon Curley (Tina Kellegher) is 20 years old, a member of a large, working class Dublin family. Her father is Des Curley (Colm Meaney), plain-spoken, a bit old fashioned, but also someone who sincerely loves his family and works hard to give them the best that he can. Des is someone who brags about the fact that he hasn’t cried in over 20 years. Of course, when he says that, he means that he hasn’t cried sober. Crying drunk, especially while watching the World Cup, doesn’t count.

Speaking of drinking, one night out with her friends leads to Sharon finding herself pregnant. As Sharon is young and unmarried, the identity of the father becomes a subject of gossip in her close-knit neighborhood. At first, Sharon refuses to tell anyone who the father is. Eventually, she confesses that the father was a Spanish sailor who picked her up and gave her the greatest night of passion of her life. Of course, Sharon’s lying. The father is actually a rather unimpressive middle-aged man named George Burgess (Pat Laffan). George picked her up while she was inebriated. He’s the type of person who kept her panties after they had sex but expects to be thanked for not showing them to his friends. George reacts to the prospect of becoming a father by disappearing.

Sharon struggles, with both the gossip and the knowledge that her neighbors, people who she has known her entire life, are judging her for being pregnant and unmarried. Continually, she is asked, “Who are you having the baby for?,” as if she’s doing a favor for the man who knocked her up and then abandoned her. Sharon decides to keep the baby and even has a laugh at the thought of naming it Georgina. Des, at first, has a hard time understanding Sharon’s decision but eventually, he supports his daughter. He even reads all of the pamphlets on pregnancy and giving birth. When a young man at the hospital mentions that he’s waiting on the delivery of his third child, Des offers him a pamphlet on “family planning.”

Made for British television and released theatrically in 1993, The Snapper is based on a book by Roddy Doyle. The book was a sequel to The Commitments but, because 20th Century Fox owned the rights to The Commitments, the family’s name was changed for the film version of The Snapper. The Rabbittes became the Curleys and there’s certainly no mention of the fact that Sharon’s brother once managed a soul band. That said, Colm Meaney reprises his role as the befuddled but loving family patriarch. He and Tina Kellegher give performances in The Snapper that feel authentic and honest. Every laugh, every smile, and even every tear feels earned.

Much as The Commitments did with music, The Snapper uses a domestic drama, the type that has inspired countless glossy films, to examine the realities of being working class in 20th Century Dublin. With the tight-knit community full of judgment and not much support, Sharon learns who she can and cannot depend on but she also learns that’s she’s far stronger than anyone, including herself, knew. The Snapper is a wonderful snapshot of life.