Belfast and the Power of Escapism
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BY CLAIRE SCHULTZ ‘24
When I sat down to watch Belfast at an independent theater in my hometown, the room was nearly empty. I couldn’t help but think that the last time I had been inside this particular theater in 2019, the seats were completely full. Almost two years into the pandemic, empty space now seems at once welcome and haunting. Paradoxically, because of all the time we’ve spent fearing physical closeness to others, that closeness is precisely what we crave. As the film began, I caught my mind wandering as I tried to remember what it once felt like to sit in this theater surrounded by strangers, united by the subject of our viewing. Yet as the film’s opening shots of modern Belfast abruptly shifted to black-and-white, my distracted thoughts melted away completely.
Belfast is set during the Troubles, a decades-long sectarian conflict in Northern Ireland. A semi-autobiographical portrait of childhood, the film comes strikingly to life through its selective use of color. The film centers on Buddy, a young boy from a tolerant Protestant family that is torn between staying and leaving their home amid rising violence beginning in August 1969. As viewers, we see the plot unfold through Buddy’s eyes: the film rarely leaves the space of his small, close-knit neighborhood. By centering on Buddy’s limited understanding of the events, this setting at once simplifies the film’s treatment of the Troubles and reveals the nuanced nature of the conflict.
In this space, neighbor can turn against neighbor, friend against friend. In the same vein, families can be torn apart by their internal struggles between leaving and staying in Belfast. Yet despite financial and marital trouble, as well as mounting threats to their safety, Buddy’s family strives to protect the boy’s childhood innocence. Because of this, we see only glimpses of the political and nationalist conflict unfurling around Buddy. The film’s real plot remains on a micro-level, depicting his relationships with his parents, brother, and grandparents, as well as his school activities and his crush on a classmate. The intimate plot does not seek to provide an answer to the deadly, complex conflicts unfolding around Buddy. Instead, this lens of childhood shows us that even in times of great hardship, there can be small, sacred joys.
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The vast majority of Belfast is filmed in black-and-white, placing the viewer firmly in its time period. The stark visual experience is enhanced by the artful cinematography, which utilizes extreme close-ups and upward angles to hone in the viewer’s focus and literalize the film’s childlike perspective. Yet Belfast, otherwise an often subtle portrayal of familial devotion and conflicting conceptions of home, flourishes in its color scenes. Excluding the brief opening and closing shots of modern Belfast that reflect the city’s progress since the Troubles, the film’s only uses of color occur in the performance scenes, uplifting the power of healthy escapism in times of struggle.
Buddy’s family, although financially struggling, takes him to the theater to see movies. When Belfast shows us these scenes of performance, they appear completely in color, although the audience remains in black and white. The characters’ viewing of the 1968 musical Chitty Chitty Bang Bang is made particularly compelling by the filmmakers’ choice to linger on the family’s interactive experience with the colorful film. Unaccustomed to the film’s daring camera angles, they gasp and duck in their seats at a tense moment in the film. The camera lingers on the musical’s lurid color, its noise and excitement. The saturated Technicolor glow is seamlessly incorporated despite its stark contrast to the monochrome audience: in one blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, we see the color reflected on Buddy’s grandmother’s glasses as she watches the film.
Belfast triumphs in its outright celebration of cinema and performance in itself. The color scenes work so well because they revel in the power of imagination, both as an integral part of the childhood experience and as a vehicle for escapism. Personally, I know this need for escapism well, as I’m sure many others do. I have always loved going to the movie theater. There’s something truly magical and almost absurd to be found in suspending your disbelief and turning off the constant influx of information from the outside world for hours, allowing yourself to experience the storytelling power of film without interruption.
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Yet during the early stages of the pandemic, when we most needed an escape, that wasn’t possible. Even though I streamed movies and shows endlessly during months of quarantine and online education, I continually craved the real experience of going to the movie theater. Returning to my local theater to watch Belfast this fall brought me an intense awareness of the time we have all lost. All the same, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what we can have again. Theaters still aren’t the same as they were, of course, with masks, smaller occupancies, and hesitant feelings everywhere. But I sensed something coming back to us all when I sat down to watch Belfast—a reclamation of our time, of the promise the future can hold.
Watching Belfast’s scenes of performance—of film-within-a-film—in a theater created a meta viewing experience worth further reflection. As I watched the characters of Belfast seek escapism through film, I realized how badly I had needed the simple joys that the cinema brings. Belfast showed me how film can urge forth our common humanity, how it can connect us regardless of the events that divide and challenge us, whether it be the Troubles or the COVID-19 pandemic. It made irrefutable a fact I already knew: that film makes life richer.
Belfast’s ending brings both optimism and melancholy, leaving us largely satisfied yet with some lingering questions. The film closes on a poignant message, slowly returning to color. As the credits rolled and the lights went up, I felt a prickly return to awareness. The world was around me again. I left the theater aching for what I’d lost, yet in awe of the magic to be found in the world around me, waiting to see what would come next.