Irish filmmaker Tadhg O’Sullivan on the value of art and the politics of what is preserved
Filmmaker, editor, sound designer and sound recordist Tadhg O’Sullivan’s debut narrative feature film, The Swallow starring Brenda Fricker, has just hit Irish cinemas to great acclaim. Tadhg talks about creating a character comfortable in their solidarity, questioning what ought to be treasured, and the craft of editing.
In a small house by the sea, a woman begins a letter to an unknown correspondent. Surrounded by the books, mementoes and clutter of her life, her home exposed to the waves of a rising ocean, she writes about the history of lost art. Considering what has been lost, and wondering about her own desire to hold on, she meditates on memory and on art’s aspiration to immortality.
Tadhg O’Sullivan is one of Ireland’s most talented and innovative filmmakers. Best known for his documentary essays, he moves into new territory with an experimental drama featuring a fictional character played with signature understatement by Oscar-winning Brenda Fricker.
Based in the West of Ireland, Tadhg wears many hats: radio maker, sound artist, writer and editor. His films include the features To the Moon (2020), The Great Wall (2015), and Yximalloo (2004), as well as numerous shorts, television pieces and gallery works.
Having worked closely with Brenda Fricker to bring the character around which The Swallow revolves to life, Tadhg has translated an unspoken poetry to the screen beautifully, unravelling questions and posing many more.
As a filmmaker, editor, sound designer and sound recordist, you’ve made many documentaries. What made you want to work on your narrative feature film debut?
I first imagined this as a documentary about art and preservation, but the more I thought about it, the fewer answers I had. I realised that drama might be a better canvas for the subject. Drama allows more ambiguity than documentary; it’s far more interesting to have a fictional character question things than to have real people try to answer them.
You’ve said the seeds for this film were sewn as you contemplated the politics of what art is preserved. Tell us about how you created a story from that point.
I was interested in what is put in museums and what is not – what we as a culture deem valuable enough to preserve and treasure, and what we do not. I thought a lot about the things that people individually might hold onto, but which are not considered valuable. I thought a lot, too, about what it means to treasure things in an era of climate uncertainty. The lightbulb moment was realising that these questions might be better put into the mind of someone for whom they were acute – an artist, an older person without anyone to pass things on to, maybe living by the very sea whose rising undermines our ideas of ‘forever’. Once I had that – a character and a setting – everything else followed.
Has the creation of this film resolved your feelings on the preservation of art, or raised more about the desire to pass on feelings and experiences through art?
The big realisation for me is the need to think in relatively short terms – it is enough to care for things and to pass them on just to the next generation, and to trust them to care for them in turn. That goes for art, but it also goes for the planet itself. It quickly becomes overwhelming if we try to reach beyond that.
What was the experience like working with Academy Award-winning actress Brenda Fricker on location in Co. Clare?
Wonderful. There is only one character in the film, so finding someone in Brenda who had the presence and charisma to hold the attention for a whole film was the key to everything. There is a limit to what I, as a man, can write about the life and mind of an older woman – Brenda was wonderfully generous with the wealth of life and experience that she could bring to the conversation and the character and the life we were creating for her in the unique landscape of North Clare.
Tell us about the character embodied by Brenda in The Swallow.
The character seems to have lived in the same house her entire life – she is deeply comfortable and familiar in her private world. A painter, she makes art not for others but as a way of expressing something deep within, of working things out. The woman that she writes to – the letter forms the film’s narration – is someone who had been part of that life but who left. This tension, between the one who left and the one who stayed, is a thread that runs through a lot of Irish families, and is key to some of the complexities and questions at the heart of Brenda’s character.
Brenda has said that there’s “a loneliness that refused pity” in this story. How does solitude play a role in this work?
That was a line of Brenda’s that really helped me to understand this character. We often imagine solitary people to be somehow lacking, to be unfortunate. I didn’t want the character to be judged in this way – hers was to be a solitude that was comfortable, that she perhaps hadn’t chosen but had taken ownership of. Capturing this would allow the viewer to connect with the character on her own terms and maybe see the humanity at the heart of this complex person.
What was your favourite part of the process of bringing The Swallow to life?
Getting to know Brenda and working with her to create a true and living character from the rough outline I began with.
Was a career in the film something you always aspired to?
Dreamed about, maybe, rather than aspired to.
Who is someone you look up to in the world of Irish filmmaking?
Brenda Fricker, of course! A total professional who knows her craft inside out and has total respect for everyone else’s.
What is one thing you wish everyone knew about working in film?
The editor’s job is not to take things out but to put things in.
What is one piece of advice you would give to someone hoping to have a career in filmmaking?
Learn a craft. For me, it was editing, which gave me a way to make a living while also learning so much about how films are made.
Tadhg O’Sullivan’s life in culture
The last thing I saw and loved… The Lost Daughter by Maggie Gyllenhaal.
The book I keep coming back to… Ales by the Fire by Jon Fosse.
I find inspiration in… The North Clare coast – beautifully different every day.
My favourite film is… Beau Travail by Claire Denis.
My career highlight is… Screening my film To the Moon at Venice after the first wave of Covid, The Swallow slowly built a small nest in my head as I walked the strangely quiet city.
The song I listen to to get in the zone is… My three-year-old daughter gets me to put on ‘Under Pressure’ by Queen and David Bowie a lot. That does the trick.
The last book I recommended is… Frogs for Watchdogs by Seán Farrell – a beautiful evocation of rural Irish childhood.
I never leave the house without… going back for whatever I left the house without.
The performance I still think about is… Brenda Fricker in The Ballroom of Romance.
My dream project would be… adapting one of Jon Fosse’s novels.
The best advice I’ve ever gotten… There’s the film you wanted to make, the film you made, and the best film that is in what you shot. Concentrate on the last one.
The art that means the most to me is… The poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva. I smuggled some of it into The Swallow.
My favourite moment in The Swallow is… Brenda’s character is standing in the water as the tide comes up around her house. It was the first thing we shot (we had to work to the moon’s schedule) and for me it was the moment I realised we were doing something special.
The most challenging thing about being a filmmaker is… After the shoot, when everyone goes home on a high and you’re left alone with the footage, scared to look at it in case it’s terrible.
After a shoot, I… think about how lucky I am that I get to do what I do, and that people are generous enough to give their time to it.
If I wasn’t a filmmaker, I would be… slightly better off financially.
The magic of film and art to me is… the shared experience, in your sitting room or in a cinema, of watching something great with other people.
The Swallow by Tadhg O’Sullivan is in Irish cinemas now.
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