Do you ever wonder what happened? Not just observe and ponder the things you witnessed, no really wonder what happened? I find myself in that position after seeing this movie, now for the third time. And every time I think I get it, the meaning seems to slip away. So bear with me here, as this thought experiment in film form unfolds. Let us start with the facts.

In the 1980’s a large number of IRA members were imprisoned in Northern Ireland. These men protested to gain the status of political prisoners. These protests took many forms, most notably in the way of ‘no wash’ and hunger strikes. This movie depicts the story of one of these protesters: Bobby Sands. And to get the spoiler out of the way, he dies at the end of the movie. That’s that. A simple story.

Yet the director Steve McQueen does something magical here. He makes us into a fly on the wall. And maybe because that wall is shit-covered by inmates of the prison where the movie takes place, we get a little bit dirty as well. But we do not get confronted. We do not get a ready-made opinion shoved through the silver screen into our face. We stay in the small, barred chambers of the prison. We cannot flee, or even look out of a window. We are there, trapped, with those who from the confines of their cells try to affect something in the outside world. The guards are there, performing their duty as sworn officers of the law. The prisoners are there, protesting that law. The fight is bitter and the fight is raw. But never are we more than the spectators. McQueen does not pick a side. He shows brutality from the guards and the IRA. The pains they suffer for doing what they do. The lengths they go to so as to do the things they must do.
And so the movie takes place. From beginning to end, for the full 91 minutes. And I cannot help but feel that the movie is not about that which is depicted. It is not about the things which we see, but about those deeper human emotions they are a depiction of. The desire to do something about the whole wretched situation. The despair of a mother knowing her son will die and she cannot help. The believe of a priest who, even if he believes in an eternal live after this one, sees death as the end of it all.

The reason that this works –besides the superb direction- is because of the openness of the emotions shown by the actors. Fassbender and Cunnigham for almost 18 minutes have nothing but some lines and a frame to say them in. And they nail it. They absolutely use every single thing they can find in the frame, lines, and heart of their characters to lay themselves barren.

I could ramble on. Nitpicking scenes. Trying to explain how the parts and the sum of the parts made me feel. But the point is to see it yourself. To feel it for yourself. To think about it for yourself. Because only by observing and allowing yourself to step into the stream of emotions can you look inside after the credits role and ask yourself: “What did just happen?”