‘Kneecap’ Charts the Rise of Irish Rap Trio With Rowdy Fun and Rebellious Fury

Alci Rengifo

Though it started in America, hip-hop quickly spread around the world, partially because it has the capacity to tell both personal and social stories. “Kneecap” is a lively, gritty, and ultimately meaningful fictionalized take on a real Irish rap group. Off screen, Móglaí Bap, Mo Chara and DJ Próvai from the real Kneecap, which has gained a following for including the original Irish language in their music, while espousing republican politics, meaning the unity of Northern and Southern Ireland. They are considered part of what is called the “Celtic revival.” This is dicey subject matter in a society still fresh with memories of the Troubles and the legacy of British colonialism. It all comes together in a movie that is an energetic music biopic with keen sociopolitical subtext.

The group originates from Belfast in Northern Ireland, so this story takes place there. Móglaí narrates and begins with recounting the night he was baptized in a secret ceremony honoring how the Irish kept their Catholic traditions despite the bans imposed by Tudor England. The site was actually an IRA training ground which was raided by the English. It is in Móglaí’s DNA to be a rebel, since his father, Arló Ó Cairealláin (Michael Fassbender), disappeared into the IRA underground but not before making sure his son learned to speak Irish. Now grown, Móglaí and his best friend, Mo Chara, keep the language going while trying to score ADHD and ODD meds. They also write rap lyrics in Irish on the side, which brings them to the attention of JJ (Próvai), a local music teacher clearly bored with life, despite loving his girlfriend (Fionnuala Flaherty), an activist for making the Irish language a standard. When the trio comes together Kneecap is born, named after the punishment local paramilitaries meat out on drug dealers.

“Kneecap” instantly deserves to be mentioned next to rap biopics like “8 Mile,” not only because the real artists play themselves, but in how director Rich Peppiatt captures how the music is produced from the artists’ lives. Móglaí and Mo dress in and adore the styles of hip-hop imported from the U.S., but they are also part of a generation of Irish youth who came of age under the shadow of the 1998 Good Friday Agreement. The historic agreement may have ended the Troubles, but the aftermath remains. Speaking Irish is controversial and former IRA fighters now channel their energy into forming roaming bands hunting down drug dealers. Kneecap’s lyrics thus evolve into rowdy confessions about “getting down on the powder” again and hating on the cops in a track like “C.E.A.R.T.A.” (which translates to “Rights”). Onstage part of DJ Próvai’s look is to sport a balaclava in the colors of the Irish flag, looking provocatively like an evocation of the old IRA militants. His stage name is taken from the abbreviation for the Provisional Irish Republican Army.

The screenplay by Peppiatt and the rappers has fun combining the history with great biopic comedy. Mo starts hooking up with the fiery Georgia (Jessica Reynolds). They tend to climax during sex while yelling in Irish or throwing around republican slogans. She also happens to be the granddaughter of the stone-faced Detective Ellis (Josie Walker), who acts like a colonial enforcer. There’s a lot of heat around because the authorities suspect rumors of Arló’s supposed death are fiction. His wife, Dolores (Simone Kirby), is also loyal to the cause and doesn’t give the cops (or us) a clue. On the domestic side, JJ is slightly older than his rap group mates, but he can put together mean beats and party hard. His girlfriend soon finds him soiled in the garage after a wild night, but for him this is liberation. The movie makes no moral judgments about the debauched side of making music. When a DJ finds Kneecap backstage gloriously high and barely able to make sentences, it’s just part of the ride. 

More important than the hard partying is how Kneecap’s music starts gaining a following among Irish youth who find it as a fun conduit to learn their original language. Móglaí, Mo and DJ Próvai didn’t set out to be heroes. They just fell into it by feeding their musical compulsions. Michael Fassbender’s Arló hovers in the background like a specter from a different time, when revolution meant the armed struggle. It is a new time and music like Kneecap’s is the new resistance. Peppiatt never waters down the message and while this film isn’t preachy, it never takes some kind of soft, neutral view. In a way, it’s a cinematic reminder of why the Irish sympathize with colonized societies to this day, even taking the bold step to recognize Palestine amid the ongoing war in Gaza. After a blistering set, DJ Próvai reminds a crowd about how hip-hop gave a voice to Black Americans and can do so in other corners of the world for other peoples. 

This is Peppiatt’s feature directorial debut after mostly working in music videos, including for Kneecap. Making this fact more impressive is how he doesn’t fall into music video clichés in his approach. “Kneecap” feels alive and cinematic, with characters we grow to care about. If you know little about modern Irish history, the movie will at least offer a window while being a rowdy good time. Any creative will relate to the moments where the group struggles to put together a demo or face disaster when a fire breaks out in the worst possible location. And you can’t be an artist without the doubters. We also get a very Irish lesson in the time-tested rule that if you want to get airplay, get relatives and friends to call the radio station. Its broader appeal is in focusing on the essence of what being expressive truly means. Whether in music, film, literature or painting, the key is to have something to say. “Kneecap” drops the mic with plenty of food for thought and because this group actually exists, you can dive into the catalog after the end credits.

“Kneecap” releases Aug. 2 in select theaters.