The Young Offenders movie review (2025) | Little White Lies

The Young Offenders

13 Jan 2017

Words by Lena Hanafy

Directed by Peter Foott

Starring Alex Murphy, Chris Walley, and Hilary Rose

Two men wearing casual clothing, one shouting into a can while the other makes a sour face. The image has a gritty, candid feel, with the background hinting at an industrial or urban setting.
Two men wearing casual clothing, one shouting into a can while the other makes a sour face. The image has a gritty, candid feel, with the background hinting at an industrial or urban setting.
2

Anticipation.

Boys will be boys.

4

Enjoyment.

An incredibly enjoyable experience that never falters in keeping you invested.

3

In Retrospect.

Leaves you replaying the jokes in your head and appreciating the warmth of the character development.

Direc­tor Peter Foott strikes com­e­dy gold with this Irish com­ing-of-age sto­ry, as inno­v­a­tive as it is charming.

Hear­ing that a drug-traf­fick­ing boat has cap­sized off the coast of West Cork dynam­ic duo, Conor Mac­Sweeney (Alex Mur­phy) and Jack Mur­phy (Chris Wal­ley), decide to cycle their way towards def­i­nite rich­es and away from their suf­fo­cat­ing fam­i­lies. Falling some­where between the child­ish endear­ment of Stand by Me and the bawdy bro­mance of Super­bad, direc­tor Peter Foott ven­tures beyond well-trod­den rebel­lious boys’ nar­ra­tive ground with a charm­ing film that bal­ances com­e­dy and sin­cer­i­ty with­out slip­ping into melodrama.

Lit­tered with pop songs, a ten­den­cy towards cul­tur­al and gen­er­a­tional stereo­types ini­tial­ly threat­ens to under­mine the authen­tic­i­ty of The Young Offend­ers. Yet it is the char­ac­ters them­selves who grad­u­al­ly steer the film’s emo­tion­al tra­jec­to­ry. The script is seam­less­ly strung togeth­er, switch­ing from moments of com­ic absur­di­ty to touch­ing trib­utes to fam­i­ly bond (or the lack there­of) and back again.

The true beau­ty of the film, how­ev­er, lies in its breath­tak­ing scenery, show­ing a side of rur­al Ire­land rarely cap­tured on screen. This lyri­cism is not sug­gest­ed by the rough-hewn urban set­ting of the first half of the film. The two boys are intro­duced as your aver­age dim-wit­ted, crime-com­mit­ting street punks. But as they ven­ture fur­ther away from home, acts of blind, male aggres­sion give way to moments of gen­uine affection.

The two young leads exhib­it a ten­der­ness and spon­tane­ity which enhances the more seri­ous nature of the film. With flaw­less com­ic tim­ing that verges on improv, their per­for­mances a con­tin­u­al­ly sur­pris­ing, filled with unex­pect­ed remarks and inge­nious­ly hys­ter­i­cal ban­ter. It’s a nuanced por­tray­al that evokes the real­ism of Ken Loach cou­pled with the quip­py, cut­ting dia­logue of Mar­tin McDon­agh (á la In Bruges).

Boil­ing down to a finale that strikes a sat­is­fy­ing note between intense and hilar­i­ous, the film ends on a cathar­tic note. Our two heroes exceed expec­ta­tions and, although the musi­cal cues some­times feel forced, the pair deliv­er a sat­is­fy­ing emo­tion­al pay-off which teach­es a valu­able les­son: fam­i­ly and friend­ship are at the root of all our lives, and we each rely on the sup­port of those who believe in us no mat­ter how big a mess we get our­selves into.

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