8.5 Hours

It’s just another Monday for four IT office jockeys when their clichéd lives begin to unravel. Veterans of recent Irish releases will immediately recognise the shallow stereotypes – pouty glamour girl who’ll do anything to secure a deposit on her dream pad, closet gay groom-to-be living one act of bad faith at a time, cocky young gadabout whose predatory sexual history is about to catch up with him.

Debuting writer-director Brian Lally strikes an audacious note with this muddled black comedy set back in heady coke swilling, property- gazumping days of the Celtic Tiger. Playing like four characters in search of a Mexican soap opera, the idea is novel but the tone is frustratingly uncertain and the structure might confound Frank Gehry. A ludicrous ‘twist’ featuring Geraldine Plunkett as a stand-in for Old Ireland and the RC values of yore, creates a stir and unintended (?) hilarity, but long before the improbable denouement we’ve stopped taking 8.5 Hours seriously.
Made for a paltry 100,000 euro, we applaud Mr. Lally’s gumption having written, directed and even distributed the picture on his own steam. But like many recent Irish titles – Situations Vacant, Alarm – 8.5 Hours could have been a contender if assistance had been provided at the level of the script. Until budding filmmakers can avail of a full time (and preferably mandatory) panel of script doctors, such problematic projects will continue to be made, with or without assistance from the Irish Film Board.

The Irish Film brand is already an increasingly tarnished one: 8.5 Hours’ budgetary constraints and inappropriate tonal shifts will, sadly, do little to coax domestic audiences into making patriotic choices at the multiplex.