Barbarism Begins At Home

A forgotten man has just been immortalised in cinematic amber. A wino, a chess champion and an author, John Healy’s story, now told in a feature-length documentary, moves from the seedy streets of London to chess halls, literary circles and back into apparent oblivion.

Brought up in an abusive London-Irish family, Healy was a dishonourably discharged army boxer who found a home among vagrant alcoholics before discovering an aptitude for chess in jail. And ‘aptitude’ is a real understatement. In five years, he won ten major British tournaments and was capable of carrying out multiple games at a time with ease. His retirement from the circuit gave rise to his literary talent, and The Grass Arena, his ‘88 memoir of an already eventful life, led to awards, plaudits from the likes of Pinter, and much media work. He was the darling of the press, a mercurial multi-talent with a history of crime that could either punch you or quote from the classics.
But such a tempest couldn’t last too long. A falling-out with his publisher led to another downwards spiral out of sight. Some claimed he’d finally dropped off the edge of sanity, but really he’d just dropped off the radar. The likes of Irvine Welsh and Daniel Day-Lewis have championed him in recent years, with Healy becoming something of a name again in 2008. But it is Barbaric Genius, a project began while he was still in the wilderness, that can recapture that original wild interest in the man. Coming courtesy of nascent company Screenworks and Bórd Scannán na hÉireann, and directed by Paul Duane, its power lies in its patience, coaxing out the little details to create an illuminating whole. And the subject material is stellar – both in Healy himself and his work documenting his own life. It confirms Duane as an adaptive force of filmmaking to be reckoned with in the future, and should move audiences with a remarkable story of several extreme rises and falls. Worth a watch, all in all.