From that Small Island review: Colin Farrell sounds in pain, as if he pressed on despite urgently needing the loo

Irish Times

7 hours ago

It has become fashionable to portray Irish history as one calamity after another: invasion, famine,
The 2 Johnnies
. Will the horrors never end? But From that Small Island – The Story of the Irish,
RTÉ's
ponderous portrait of the country from the Stone Age to the present, goes out of its way to avoid such cliches and to show us the bigger picture. The Horrible Histories version of Ireland, whereby everything was great until the Brits showed up, is carefully avoided.
Lots of fascinating facts are crammed into the first of four episodes (RTÉ One, 6.30pm). We learn that the original inhabitants of Ireland were dark-skinned and blue-eyed. It is also revealed that the Battle of
Clontarf
was not the native Irish against the Vikings so much as the native Irish against
Dublin
and their Viking allies. It was the medieval equivalent of a Leinster final, with the Dubs going down to a last-minute free.
But if sprinkled with intriguing nuggets, much about the series is familiar, if not formulaic. Following on from
1916: The Irish Rebellion
and 2019's The Irish Revolution, it is the latest RTÉ historical epic to rely on moody drone shots of the Irish landscape, an infinite staircase worth of academics and gravel-voiced narration by an Irish actor.
[
'We Irish were never homogeneous. Always hybrids, always mongrels'
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This gig has previously gone to
Liam Neeson
, who narrated The Irish Rebellion, and
Cillian Murphy
, who provided
voiceover on The Irish Revolution
. Now it's
Colin Farrell
who goes from
playing Penguin
to talking about pagan practices in Portumna. But while he does his best to breathe life into an episode that traces the arrival of the first farmers in Ireland and the later coming of the Vikings, he sounds ever so slightly in pain throughout, as if he had decided to press on when he urgently needed the loo.
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From that Small Island has a thesis: that Ireland has always been a globalised nation – neither a destination nor a leaving point, but an international crossroads. In
Italy
, former president
Mary McAleese
discusses the influence on the Continent of medieval Ireland's great wandering monk, St Columbanus. She adds that his teachings were key to the founding of the European Union – although she does not fully explain this claim, leaving it to dangle in the dry Italian wind.
But grand ambitions run aground on dull execution. As with the Liam Neeson 1916 documentary – which this series shares a writer with, University of Notre Dame's Bríona Nic Dhiarmad – there is a feeling of observing a dry academic exercise made with one eye on overseas audiences rather than something intended to bring history alive for Irish viewers. Tellingly, this voice-of-god style of storytelling has fallen out of favour elsewhere. On British TV, for instance, historians are forever getting their hands dirty and making history come alive by staring it straight in the face.
That isn't to suggest Farrell should do a Lucy Worsley and dress up as Brian Boru. But wouldn't From that Small Island be so much more fun if he did? And that, in the end, is what is missing. Irish history is tumultuous, tragic, funny and bittersweet – but this worthy-to-a-fault series removes all the blood, sweat and tears. It belongs firmly in the 'eat your greens' school of documentary-making – and cries out for more spice and sizzle.