The most blindingly good ideas, more often than not, are so simple you wonder why nobody ever thought of them before. Well, Ken Wardrop’s keenly anticipated debut feature is a blindingly good idea. The pitch may not sound like must-see material – interviews with 70 women are arranged in order of age, each segment is composed using one or two economical shots of their faces, kitchens, and bedrooms and each subject speaks of the men in their lives: first their daddy, then their boyfriend, husband, son, grandchild, and finally their late kinsfolk.
And yet, it's impossible to overstate the impact His & Hers has on audiences. Technically, it's a beautiful film, emblazoned with neat match cuts, visual slant rhymes, and the awesome cinematography of Michael Lavelle and Kate McCullough. Equally, it’s a novel, quietly bold project, forming a gorgeous documentary tribute to that most honourable institution, the Irish Mammy.
Still, it is just a documentary, right? The form has not sat well with Irish audiences since Michael Moore stopped jeering at George W. Bush: what can director Ken Wardrop and his multigenerational gang of women from the Irish midlands do to buck the trend? Just you wait and see. Early screenings suggest you will need tissues, you may leave punching the air and you will grin like an idiot for many days. And if you think this is one for the ladies, a bright alternative to SATC2 and all those anti-World Cup chick flicks, think again. Which demographic is most likely to leave the cinema desperately fumbling for their mobile phones so they can call mammy? Guys under 45.
The delightful spell cast by His & Hers is not confined to native viewers either; the film knocked them out at Sundance and assorted festivals around the globe. Indigenous media outlets and theatre punters failed to give Once the support it deserved until after it landed an Oscar; let’s not make the same mistake twice. Go early and often.