Colin Farrell's new film Ballad of a Small Player gets Irish release date
The film teams Farrell with Edward Berger, the director of the Oscar-winning Conclave and All Quiet on the Western Front.
"When his past and his debts start to catch up with him, a high-stakes gambler laying low in Macau encounters a kindred spirit who might just hold the key to his salvation," says Netflix of the upcoming film.
Ballad of a Small Player is based on the Lawrence Osborne book The Ballad of a Small Player and is adapted for the screen by Rowan Joffe (Tin Star, 28 Weeks Later).
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Irish Examiner
2 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Joe McNamee: Is it time to subsidise Irish hospitality?
Our shared and serious passion for music and film led my daughter and I to The Bear, a truly magnificent TV series (TV being the new 'film') set in a Chicago restaurant with Michelin star aspirations. As a recovering chef, I can confirm its authenticity, at times almost as stressful as actually being back in a slammed kitchen, slaving under a sociopathic bully — it is why some chefs I know can't watch it. Flush with marvellously written characters, we struggle to pick our favourite. We adore transcendently serene pastry chef Marcus and the sweetly naive Fak brothers; we flat out venerate jittery, driven head chef Sydney. Jamie Lee Curtis's monstrous matriarch is nitro-glycerine plonked next to an open furnace; her children, Michael, Natalie and Carmen Berzatto, three differing studies of the impact of her dysfunctional parenting. Every single character, even minor, is fully realised. And then there is 'Cousin' Richie Jerimovich (Ebon Moss-Bachrach), who runs front of house. A loud, boorish and deeply obnoxious character, we spent the first few episodes wishing him serious harm until, gradually, tiny slivers of his humanity and vulnerability began to slip through. But he utterly transformed in our eyes when sent on a training internship to the fictional Ever, 'the world's best restaurant', site of his Damascene culinary conversion. Breaking through his innate cynicism, he comes to understand why high-end restaurants operate as they do and, most of all, learns to appreciate the complexities of service and its fundamental importance in a good restaurant. After that, he could do little wrong in our eyes, even when he does — regularly — do wrong. Over a decade ago, after a major food awards in Dublin, two of Ireland's finest restaurant managers and I wound up in deep conversation about service, the lack of awards for service, wondering whether it related to the marked decline in service standards, from what was always a wildly varying benchmark. Irish restaurant service has only worsened since; good service — the exception rather than rule — is an unexpected pleasure rather than automatic entitlement when dining out. When Patrick Guilbaud first opened his now Michelin two-starred Dublin restaurant, it took him a while to realise most of his non-French waiters, many of them students, viewed their role as a mere staging post en route to a 'real' career. Indeed, working as a waiter/server has rarely been viewed as a profession in this country even though innate Irish sociability makes for a natural-born host. Service is about so much more than ferrying plates to and from the table and it takes time and effort to train even the good ones. Imagine the frustration when they then leave for a 'real job'! For all the advance 'engagement' — online, reviews and so on — a diner's first human interaction with a restaurant is through service. A good first impression is vital; sustaining it throughout the course of an entire meal, equally so. (Take note, all servers who seem to ghost a table once desserts are served.) More worryingly, I see the decline in standards of Irish restaurant service as a canary in the coalmine for the Irish hospitality sector overall. Many businesses operate on a fiscal model that wouldn't last kissing time in other industries, while a dining public, ignorant of the harsh realities of hospitality, only ever registers the rising prices of eating out. When the minimum wage was raised to €13.50 an hour last January, the best restaurateurs acknowledged the additional financial stress on their business models, yet never begrudged their employees the extra 80c an hour. In Dublin, for example, many of the lowest-paid hospitality workers have to commute from far outside the city to afford accommodation — if they can find it. There is one question that gauges the real viability of Irish hospitality like no other: as a waiter/server, will I qualify for a mortgage? (It applies equally to lower-paid kitchen jobs.) The answer is almost inevitably, no. Which begs another question — is it time we start a conversation about subsidising the Irish restaurant sector, as we do with the farming sector? TABLE TALK A recent soiree at The Metropole Hotel to launch its newly designed reception/lobby area and a casual all-day menu sees a venerable old aristocrat of Cork hospitality substantially sharpening its offering in tune with the overall energy sense of energy that has imbued its home, MacCurtain St, in recent times, reminding that it is about so much more than just an annual venue for 'The Jazz'. In further reference to today's main theme, belated congrats to the Market Lane group for their ongoing achievements at the Fáilte Ireland Employer Excellence Awards, voted on anonymously by employees, and, yes, the ML group does number more than a few well-supported professional waiters/servers in their ranks. Vada café in Dublin's Stoneybatter, may cleave to a very familiar formula for what is currently cool in casual dining but more than gets away with it on the back of some tasty food and a genuine commitment to sustainability and zero waste so, additional opening hours to serve dinner on Friday and Saturday evenings could be well worth checking out. TODAY'S SPECIAL Make Hummus, Not War print from Bia Blasta This week's choice is more about food for the mind and soul than the belly, a handsome print from Blasta Books inspired by their latest authors, Izzeddeen Alkarajeh and Eman Aburabi, and the original version of the Free Palestine mural painted next to their Izz Café in Cork City. Available in A4 (€25) and A3 (€38) sizes and shipped anywhere in the world, all profits will be donated to World Central Kitchen. Read More Ireland's best food trucks and street food stalls to try this summer
Irish Examiner
2 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Gareth O'Callaghan: 50 years after Miami Showband killings, the scars of The Troubles still remain
Maybe everybody feels this way about the long hazy days of their teenage summers, but the summers in the mid-1970s were unforgettable. Long sunny days were hitched to an endless soundtrack of classic songs and pop stars whose posters adorned every teenager's bedroom in the country. The year 1975 was particularly memorable, but not just for the weather. I remember where I was on the morning of July 31 that year. Sitting in the back of the family car, I listened in shock as news of the ambush and execution of three members of the Miami Showband broke on RTÉ. I was 14, and what I was listening to was unthinkable. Fifty years later, as the anniversary approaches next Thursday, it still is. Having left the Castle Ballroom in Banbridge, Co Down, shortly after 2am, after an unexpected treat of Irish stew prepared by the venue's staff, the minibus carrying five of the band — Fran O'Toole, Des 'Lee' McAlea, Tony Geraghty, Brian McCoy, and Stephen Travers — was stopped in the townland of Buskhill, eight miles from Newry, at a military checkpoint. They were ordered out of the van and questioned. Unknown to the band, the armed men dressed in British Army uniforms were members of the paramilitary Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF). Seconds later, a bomb that was being placed under the driver's seat by two of the loyalist killers, Harris Boyle and Wesley Somerville, exploded prematurely, killing both. Three of the Miami— Fran, Tony, and Brian — were gunned down as they tried to make their escape across a field they had been blown into by the force of the explosion, and then shot dead while lying on their backs pleading for their lives to be spared. Stephen was shot and seriously wounded. Des escaped uninjured. Why would anyone target a group of musicians who were entertaining young people from both sides of the North's political divide? Music, after all, is meant to bridge all kinds of divides. After all, the Miami's song 'Clap Your Hands, Stomp Your Feet' meant the same to a Protestant teenager as it did to a Catholic. It's impossible to describe the hateful intent that hung in the air that night on the North's A1, as some of the most dangerous killers of 'The Troubles' lay in wait for their targets. It wasn't the terrorists' intention to shoot them. The plan was to allow them to continue on their journey, while, unknown to any of them, transporting a massive bomb set on a short timer — most likely to detonate while the van was travelling through Newry. Clearly, the UVF's plan was to manipulate the enormous love shown to the band by its thousands of fans both north and south. If the bomb had exploded, then the innocent musicians would forever have been remembered as republican terrorists transporting an explosive device north of the border. Fifty years later, the world would still be none the wiser about the bogus checkpoint that night, or the UVF's involvement. Although three innocent men lost their lives, the original plan was foiled. Nor would there have been a 2011 report by the PSNI's Historical Enquiries Team pointing to collusion between the RUC and loyalist paramilitaries in relation to the killings. According to Martin Dillon, in his book The Dirty War, at least five serving Ulster Defence Regiment soldiers were present at the checkpoint. It's impossible to describe the hateful intent that hung in the air that night on the North's A1, as some of the most dangerous killers of 'The Troubles' lay in wait for their targets. The memorial plaque to Miami Showband members Tony Geraghty, Fran O'Toole and Brian McCoy outside the former National Ballroom on Parnell Square in Dublin. Picture: Billy Higgins Is the North a better place 50 years later? It depends on who you ask. South Armagh, with its lush green countryside, is a pleasure to drive through on a sunny July morning; but memories of the Glenanne gang, and its secret alliance of soldiers, police, and UVF members, who murdered innocent Catholics and nationalists in the 1970s, don't disappear with time. Take a stroll along the predominantly loyalist Shankill Road in West Belfast, and it doesn't take long to be reminded of Lenny Murphy, who headed up the Shankill Butchers, who, during the 1970s, brought a new level of paramilitary savagery to a city already on its knees as a result of cold-blooded sectarian killings. There are reminders everywhere that all six counties paid dearly for the hatred of others — often neighbours and work colleagues. Murder could knock on anyone's door, depending on your religion and your allegiances in the community, on where you went to church, or took a pint. Who you worked for often determined whether you became a hitman's target. No one felt safe, and if they did, they were only fooling themselves. The Cork Examiner's front-page report on the Miami showband massacre on August 1, 1975 On the surface, Northern Ireland is different to what it was 50 years ago. Despite Belfast's brutal past, it has become a booming tourist destination. Just like Derry, its bloody history is a curiosity for visitors. But there are those who will tell you it's a history that's not over — just dormant. It wouldn't take a lot to stir the pot. A friend who has lived in Banbridge all his life once told me, 'No one should opine on the history of Northern Ireland unless they lived here during The Troubles', but we've known each other long enough so I doubt he'll mind. It's a place of anomalies and contradictions. It's a part of the United Kingdom, but it shares the same island as a separate sovereign country. One of those anomalies is violence — a reminder that political and civic decisions are forever mindful of orange and green. There are still places where to openly display your Irish pride could get you mistaken for a closet Provo, and vice versa if your loyalty is to the Crown Jewels; but it will no longer cost you your job or your life if you openly support a united Ireland. However, all that happened will never go away. How do you discuss the past with someone whose father walked into a pub carrying a gun and murdered a bunch of his neighbours who were enjoying a football match? What if you're the son of one of them? Despite the peace deal in 1998, many of Northern Ireland's Catholics and Protestants continue to live mostly separate lives. More than 90% of children attend schools segregated by religion. The loyalist bonfire in Moygashel, Co Tyrone, featuring a model migrant boat with life-sized mannequins in life jackets. Picture: Eamonn Farrell / There's a direct link between deprivation and political violence, which the peace agreement failed to address. Add to that the recent violence caused by ethnic discrimination. Seeing news footage of a bonfire topped with mannequins in a boat — representing migrants — in the Tyrone village of Moygashel recently reminded me of the hate that drove the killings of the Miami. For many people, nothing has changed. Moygashel native Wesley Somerville, who blew himself up with his own bomb that night 50 years ago, was honoured in recent weeks when loyalists hung a banner bearing his image from a lamppost in the same village. Let's hope the late Seamus Mallon was right when he said: 'Violence interrupts but does not determine history'. A 45-minute drive south-east of Moygashel brings you back to Banbridge, where three white ribbons still hang from branches close to where the Miami massacre took place, a constant reminder of precarious peace. Read More Two children and woman killed in shooting in Co Fermanagh while man remains in hospital
Irish Examiner
2 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Books are my business: Tramp Press founders Sarah Davis-Goff and Lisa Coen
Sarah Davis-Goff and Lisa Coen are founders of Tramp Press, an independent Irish publisher which was established in 2014. Authors it has published include Doireann Ní Ghríofa, Mona Eltahawy, Sara Baume and Mike McCormack. Tramp Press authors have won many accolades, including the International Dublin Literary Award, the Goldsmiths Prize, and the Rooney Prize. How did you get into publishing? Sarah: I was quite a sickly kid, and I missed a lot of school, so I read a lot. But it never occurred to me that working in books could be an actual job. I did a liberal arts degree in the US, in a college in Santa Fe. I was hired as a writing assistant there and then I could see how this might work as a career. I went on to Oxford Brookes University for a masters in publishing and then I worked for Dalkey Archive and briefly for Continuum, a non-fiction publisher based in New York. I met Lisa when I was covering someone's maternity leave in a Dublin publisher, and we started talking about trying things in a different way. All around us, we saw publishers throwing a lot of books against the wall and hoping that something would stick. We were wondering if we could just find those few books that may or may not be supported by the market. We weren't overly concerned with the perceived commercialism of the books that we were reading. We just wanted quality, quality, quality. It is part of the reason we publish so little, between two and four books a year. Lisa: I did my undergrad in Galway, and then I worked in magazines in Dublin for a while. I was going to work in publishing or academia, as I was really interested in research. I did a PhD on Irish theatre, and it was clear to me that academia wasn't something I was suited to at all. I wrapped my PhD up and then started an internship where I met Sarah, she was in the role temporarily and I thought that soon we'd both be out there competing for the very few jobs there were in publishing. It was dismaying because she is so impressive — she was telling everybody to read Donal Ryan way before his first book was published. We were talking about what we would do if we were publishers. At the time, literary fiction was left on the table a little. We started the company in a moment where there was a lot of contraction in publishing, a lot of anxiety and conservatism. I was really interested in people taking risks and setting the agenda themselves. It all kicked off from there. What does your role involve? Lisa: We're very lucky how complementary our work styles are. From the early days, we were competitively doing as much as we could, but now we both have small kids. We're able to give each other grace when that gets tricky. There's a lot of understanding around getting projects over the line together, as opposed to demonstrating presenteeism or being seen to go to meetings or whatever. We both do operational things, the admin that comes from just running a company. When it comes to editorial, I have traditionally taken the lead. When it comes to production and marketing campaigns, Sarah takes the lead. She is very thorough, energetic, and passionate — there is nobody who talks about books with such passion. I tend to take the lead on the social media stuff, so if we get cancelled, it will be my fault. Sarah: To some extent, I do take the lead on publicity, but a lot of the time that is just putting Lisa in front of a book buyer and letting her talk about a book, because it is very hard for them to say no to her, she's the Babe Ruth of pitches. It's very useful for us to be both across everything, we're small and we plan to remain small. It's just ourselves, our part-time administrator, Siobhán, who is amazing, and a team of exceptional freelancers. I love that, for the most part, we have very similar tastes and we get excited about the same things. What do you like most about what you do? Sarah: That sense of discovery is amazing. I'm usually the one who reads incoming subs, and there's a sense of possibility when you're opening up something, and you read the first couple of pages and you think: 'Oh, this is good'. There is no better feeling in the world. Lisa: It's really interesting when somebody allows you to see their creative process, it's very intimate and trusting. The writer does all the work, they have all the responsibility, it's their name on the cover, but getting to help them with the mechanics of that, I feel like that novelty will never wear off. It's such a privilege. To hear what somebody's trying to do and to help them get there, it's so exciting and energising. It really fills your soul up. What do you like least? Sarah: I don't like the responsibility sometimes, because no publisher, unfortunately, really knows what's going to happen when rubber meets the road. So you can have an extraordinary publicity campaign, exceptional reviews, and still the book won't sell, and that's devastating. Unfortunately, it happens fairly often, because this is publishing, and this is what the business looks like. But when you've worked so hard, when you're such a fan of the author, and when you know they deserve better, it's really hard to see. Lisa: I hate how sales have to be tied to a sense of accomplishment. I think the accomplishment is that Sarah found a book in the slush pile, or that we recognise a talent and we have brought it to market. That readers can get that either in their bookshop or in a library is a huge achievement. Three desert island books Sarah: Problems by Jade Sharma is a book we brought out some years ago, the voice is extraordinary and the ballsiness of it, it's great stuff. Persuasion by Jane Austen, which I'm rereading again. I just love it. I'm near the end now, and it's very tense — is Captain Wentworth going to come to Anne's father's house or not? I would also pick The Fifth Season by NK Jemisin, which is the first part of the Broken Earth series; it's not one for new mothers or new parents. It's really heartbreaking, but it's so beautiful. The greatest thing a book can do is open up your mind to different ways of thinking about things, and it does that across the board. Lisa: Because I'm fairly recently post-partum, Making Babies by Anne Enright, which is one of the finest pieces of writing on one of the most mundane and extraordinary experiences a person can go through. The Children of the Famine series by Marita Conlon McKenna; O'Brien Press recently brought out a beautiful green hardback special edition in a collaboration with Kenny's of Galway. For a lot of us, reading Under the Hawthorn Tree in primary school was a really formative moment. My third pick is Solar Bones by Mike McCormack. I absolutely don't have a favourite Tramp Press book, I'm not allowed to, but that book is an extraordinary moment in Irish literature. It really speaks to what we wanted when we were setting up the company, which is that the books you publish should matter. I think Solar Bones is the first line of our obituary.
