Martin McDonagh’s black comedy In Bruges was one of the first films that made me feel Irish, which is ironic considering it’s helmed by a British director (albeit with Irish roots), set in Belgium, and on the surface is about two hitmen sheltering from the fallout of a botched job. That being said, the hitmen in question, Ray (Colin Farrell) and Ken (Brendan Gleeson), are both Irish and it’s through their relationship and the journey they go on that I felt my Irishness was being showcased on screen. Multiple watches later, and with some more years under my belt, I’ve realized that In Bruges is important to me not solely because the two characters happened to be Irish or played by brilliant Irish actors, but because Ken and Ray’s journey ultimately parallels something deeply rooted in traditional Irishness: Catholicism.
Bruges takes center stage throughout the film. Inspired by a trip McDonagh took to the Belgian city, his own feelings became the foundations for his two leading characters: Ken, the sight-seeing and culture-loving tourist who marvels at the gothic architecture, and Ray, the drunken degenerate, uninterested in the overtly religious art and desperate to leave the city behind him. They’re tasked with waiting in Bruges until the aftermath of the job dies down and they’re contacted by Harry (Ralph Fiennes), their boss. It’s in this quiet downtime that we’re given a real sense of who these people are; their interactions are barbed and bathed in black humor and delivered with such distinct rhythm that McDonagh is able to make what might seem like a superficial conversation have a rich underlayer of subtext and nuance that gives further insight into these characters and their morals. Think Waiting for Godot meets an Irish gangster movie, it shouldn’t work but it does, and then some. McDonagh’s dialogue is scalpel-sharp, using his conflicting characters as tools to strip back and interrogate the themes or motifs that they embody.
This clear contrast is what makes the film so devilishly delightful. In truth, In Bruges revels in these moments of contrast, be they Ray and Ken’s conflicting personalities, the film’s loose relationship between humor and grief, or the pervading nods toward morality, good and evil, and crime and punishment. Focusing solely on the latter, In Bruges becomes an almost meditative reflection on Ray and Ken’s sins, their lives as hitmen are scrutinized by McDonagh against a backdrop of a city dripping with religious iconography. Bruges takes the form of a purgatorial land, where these men must be judged.
When Ray and Ken visit the Groeningemuseum, they see three paintings that will mirror the film’s events. First, Death and the Miser by Jan Provoost shows the figure of death seemingly coming to collect a soul. Next, a man is flayed alive for his sins in The Judgement of Cambyses by Gerard David. Finally, Hieronymus Bosch depicts Jesus presiding over the punishment of sinners in The Last Judgment. Far from subtle, McDonagh clearly shows us crime, judgment, and punishment back to back. So, when it’s later revealed that the crime Ray committed was the contracted murder of a Catholic priest and the accidental murder of an altar boy, the audience is faced with their own moral judgments to make. This sequence of scenes that follow one another reinforces the lessons of Catholicism and the consequences for those who have sinned.
McDonagh quickly adds another layer of complication to Ray’s judgment when Harry tasks Ken with killing Ray. Just as the audience has figured out why guilt and regret loom large over Ray, these themes are shared with his partner, who must decide whether or not to carry out the hit or go against Harry’s orders, setting up the film’s final third — punishment. Mirroring Bosch’s The Last Judgment, which Ray so nonchalantly brushes off, In Bruges’ sinners are left to meet their fate. Ken sacrifices himself to warn Ray that Harry has arrived to kill him, Ray is fatally wounded by a gunshot and, in a moment of deep irony, Harry believes he’s accidentally killed a child in the same fashion as Ray and turns the gun on himself. This comically bleak ending alludes to something larger.
It’s in Harry’s decision to take his own life that we’re given a further insight into the looming sense of morality that cuts through the film. Harry’s ‘strict’ moral code is ultimately what leads to his death and it’s interesting that Harry, the foul-mouthed crime boss, essentially acts as the film’s (heavily skewed) moral compass. His honor-among-thieves mentality is devout, almost a religion in itself. As he was the reason for Ken and Ray being in Bruges to await his judgment, he begins to parallel the already established themes of catholic punishment.
Ultimately, it’s hard to leave Bruges in this film, it’s hard to escape the confines of this purgatory that these characters are trapped within. It seems to me that In Bruges is concerned with the personal purgatorial, the inescapable place that we’re all prisoners to, be it guilt, shown in Ray’s story, or the entrenched moral stringing of credence or code. Either way, McDonagh and In Bruges aren’t going to give an answer to any of the questions the film poses. Instead, they simply leave the wounds open for the audience to make their own judgment. It would be remiss to simply say In Bruges is a one-dimensional movie; it’s not just about two hitmen, it’s certainly not only an interpretation of the inflexible rules of Catholicism and the inherent flaws that plague them, it is however a deeply rich film that connected with me so strongly 10-or-so years ago that I’m still talking about it now. It’s a rich, ambiguous vein to be mined for meaning and, aptly, in a film so concerned with history and the repeating of said history, it’s one that will live on for years to come, at least for this lapsed Catholic.
