Many, many years ago I was in the cinema to see the Kate Beckinsale romcom Serendipity. About halfway through the film a new character was introduced, and his appearance made one woman several rows behind gasp one word out loud, so the whole theatre heard her. “Aidan!” was what she wheezed out. The entire – largely female – audience dissolved into chortles of acknowledgment. Yes, it was Aidan from Sex and the City, the too-good-to-be-true woodworker who had swept Carrie Bradshaw off her feet. He was also tall, with a loyal dog. The gasp was well deserved.
Fast forward to late 2024. I’m at the cinema with friends and an ad for the new Nicole Kidman film Babygirl plays. It shows how she ... is seduced? Seduces? Whatever happens, she is romanced by a younger Harris Dickinson, who delivers orders to her à la Sexy Priest in Fleabag. He demands she drinks a glass of milk, which in the context of the racy trailer didn’t seem at all odd. One woman let out a slightly deranged “Jesus!” and we all agreed. Clutching on each other’s arms, we affirmed, “We simply must see it!”
Fast forward once more (last time, I promise) to January and the time has come to see Babygirl. Except I throw a spanner in the works by exercising a veto at the last minute. I’ve heard mixed reports. It’s not actually that sexy. It’s kind of boring. The milk scene made someone feel sick. I didn’t want to waste a Sunday afternoon cinema trip on an unsexy, boring, lactose-heavy dud. So, we went to see A Real Pain instead.
A Real Pain is the film about the two cousins – played brilliantly by Jesse Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin – who travel to Poland to honour their Holocaust survivor grandmother’s dying wish. They visit Warsaw and Lublin and the Majdanek concentration camp. The movie is funny and devastating. It’s also a “tight 90” and achieves so much in an hour and a half. I’m glad I kept Babygirl and its two-hour running time for the couch at home where I can doublescreen with my phone.
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Kieran Culkin’s stellar performance as the charming yet socially unaware Benji drew many gasps from the audience, while the Majdanek scenes met sombre silence. What took my breath away was the Polish scenery. I’ve been once before and immediately made a mental note to return asap. The rolling green landscape was so vibrant and beautiful that I was once again niggled by the suspicion that Ireland has been hogging the emerald limelight.
Is Ireland as green as we make out? Tourism ads and popular culture can sometimes paint, almost literally, our landscape in the famous 50 shades. Martin McDonagh’s Ireland of The Banshees of Inisherin is as cartoonish as its characters. Last year a TikTok video went semi-viral because it depicted a visitor crying while looking out a window at the Irish countryside, so taken was she with its beauty.
Ireland is green, there’s no doubt about that. The rain, temperate climate and liberal scattering of cow and sheep shite have a lot to do with it. Plenty of other countries – Scotland and New Zealand, for instance – are similarly blessed and they’re not making such a song and dance about it. Grass is grass and green is green. We don’t make it grassier or greener in this part of the world. Or do we? In my research trip around the internet I came across a suggestion that Ireland’s northerly position means the whole country basically has a bluish filter which can make the green of the grass appear almost neon (and presumably make some of our skins look almost purplish white).
Why do I care, anyway? Isn’t it great that we’ve managed to harness a single colour as such a strong selling point? Maybe I’ve lived in Dublin too long. When faced with the relative ugliness of much of the infrastructure and building work in the capital, it’s difficult not to worry about tourists touching down and thinking they’ve been sold a pup. But then all I have to do is walk into the Phoenix Park and I am assaulted by acres of greenery. I remember the number of times I’ve flown over Ireland into Dublin and been struck by the patchwork quilt of green fields. And then out comes the phone to take a video because there’s just nothing like coming home.
I’m sorry I questioned your emerald credentials, Ireland. Poland, I’m coming back to you as soon as I can. Babygirl, I still haven’t seen you. You’d better be gaspworthy.
