Hunger (2008): Review (Minor Spoilers)

With all the accolades heaped on director Steve McQueen for his work on films such as 12 Years a Slave (winner of the Academy Award for Best Picture), Shame and, more recently, the BBC anthology series Small Axe, it is easy to forget that, before 2008, McQueen was better known as a visual artist and short filmmaker, before making a relatively late foray into feature-length film. It merits reiterating, then, that the Caméra d’Or winning Hunger was a feature-length debut for the London-born director; and what a bold and barnstorming way to make one’s debut. Hunger, the story of the ‘blanket’, ‘no-wash’ and hunger strike protests by members of the IRA in Maze Prison in the early Thatcher era, depicts the abusive mistreatment of prisoners, corruption of the prison authorities, and brutal acts of IRA violence with extreme and horrifying precision. In this regard, much like the pugilistic prison guards, this film pulls no punches. From the opening scene, in which newly-inducted prisoner Davey Gillen, fresh from a beating, confronts his (in the interests of euphemism) detritus-coated cell, it becomes clear that this film will give no quarter when it comes to realism and accuracy. And yet, what sets this film apart is the fact that the depiction never feels gratuitous: a tough ask given the constant and deliberate presentation of acts of violence and abuse, of extreme degradation of body and mind, and of bodily fluids and processes. While the horror is enough to make even the most hardened viewer cringe, at no point does it ever feel unwarranted or exaggerated. Nor is the emotional impact ever lessened - enough to keep one’s eyes glued to the screen for the whole ninety minute runtime.

While it may be tempting to think of this picture as sympathetic to the cause of the imprisoned IRA members, given its harsh depiction of the abuse they suffered, I feel it would be an egregious mischaracterisation to suggest that this film chooses sides. In fact, I would say that it is similarly nuanced and sensitive in its representation of politics and crime as in its depiction of violence and vulgarity. What I think is the narrative’s primary concern is humanity (and generally the lack thereof). This can be summarised in the words of Margaret Thatcher, presented verbatim in the film, from a speech at Stormont Castle on May 28th 1981. Talking about the prisoners engaging in a hunger strike, she says the following:

“They seek to work on the most basic of human emotions—pity—as a means of creating tension and stoking the fires of bitterness and hatred.” [1]

The lack of compassion demonstrated here is suggested in this film to be the key factor in many of the acts of violence that are depicted, just as the refusal of Thatcher (reiterated in this speech) to grant the IRA inmates the status of political prisoners is the stimulus for the events of the film. The callous and calculated indifference shown by one side of the conflict to the other is what enables each of them to carry out the acts of human destruction that are depicted. This is made explicit in the film’s most famous, and indeed most compelling, scene, in which Father Dominic (Liam Cunningham) comes into the prison to consult with Bobby Sands (Michael Fassbender) at the latter’s request. Sands declares his intention to commence a hunger protest, fully expecting that he and at least a few others will die to achieve his political ends, and the cleric, whilst more than sympathetic to the cause of republicanism, refuses to endorse him, arguing that Sands has fully purged himself of his humanity and his appreciation of the sanctity of life if he is willing to throw away his and others’ lives for the cause. Extrapolate this conflict to the wider events of the film and it becomes clear that inhumanity, not a particular creed or cause, is being held as the central force behind the horrific acts of violence - whether they be aimed at others, or in the case of the hunger strike, at oneself.

Even with that in mind, I have oversimplified the depiction of politics in Hunger. The ninety-minute narrative presents all of this in a more subtle and nuanced way, and, importantly when discussing this as an entertainment product rather than as a political study, in a gripping and engaging way. As a piece of cinema, it is also worth noting that this film is beautifully shot, in spite of its constraining and bleak locale. The dialogue, while sparse, is inherently believable and potent. The performances, deliberately aloof more often than not, are excruciatingly precise. My only qualm with this film from a technical viewpoint is that the pacing occasionally feels a bit off. A particularly laboured scene featuring a prison worker brushing up urine in the latter half of the film breaks the momentum somewhat. Other than that, it is extremely difficult to pick fault with this exceptional debut from the talented Steve McQueen. In one stroke, Hunger manages to be more terrifying than the scariest horror flick, more compelling than the most exciting thriller, and more emotionally tortuous than the schlockiest Oscar-bait rom-com.

[1] Margaret Thatcher, ‘Speech at Stormont Castle lunch’, Thatcher Archive, 28 May 1981, https://www.margaretthatcher.org/document/104657.