Bring Them Down

Christopher Andrews’ “Bring Them Down” (2024) unfolds like a storm on the horizon; slow-building, inevitable, and impossible to escape

It’s a dark fable about grief, guilt, and generational violence wrapped in the raw sinew of a rural Irish revenge tale. But to call it merely a revenge film is too simple. This is a story of festering wounds, both literal and metaphorical, where the past clings like mud on boots and the future is as uncertain as the mist that blankets the hills.

Set against the desolate beauty of Ireland’s sheep-farming countryside, the film follows Michael (Christopher Abbott, in a stunning performance that required him to learn Irish for full authenticity), a man crushed under the weight of an old tragedy - a car crash that took his mother’s life, leaving his then-girlfriend, Caroline (Nora-Jane Noone), permanently scarred. Hers is a face marked by past violence, a visible reminder of the destruction left in the wake of unchecked male rage.

Now, Michael exists in a limbo of quiet guilt, tending to his father’s flock, his penance written in solitude and labor. But when two of his rams go missing, his search reignites an ancient feud, one that will demand fresh blood to settle old debts.

There’s something Biblical about Bring Them Down, and not just in its themes of sacrifice and retribution. The violence, when it comes, is wrathful - sudden, punishing, and without mercy. The camera, once composed and watchful, shifts into a frantic, handheld panic, mirroring the chaos that erupts when civility and restraint finally give way. 

It’s the kind of horror that doesn’t just shock - it lingers, staining the landscape like a permanent bruise.

Abbott delivers a brooding, internal performance, his face a mask of quiet suffering. But it’s Nora-Jane Noone’s Caroline who haunts the film. Hers is the kind of presence that reminds you this isn’t just a movie about men and their burdens - it’s about the collateral damage they leave behind. 

Her scar, a physical mark of past violence, is a stark contrast to Michael’s invisible but equally deep wounds.

Barry Keoghan (Jack) and Paul Ready (Gary) deliver standout performances, each embodying a deceptive innocence rooted in old grudges that refuse to fade. Their characters may live in a world that’s changing - where technology advances and the local economy shifts - but some feuds run deeper than progress. 

And as Gary sets his sights on modernizing the land with vacation homes-Airbnb, really?-the past proves it won’t be so easily buried.

And then there’s the land itself - windswept, vast, and unforgiving. Andrews, in his feature debut, frames it as both prison and battleground. The sheep farm, the rolling hills, the looming modern development of Gary’s (Paul Ready) vacation homes - all of it speaks to a world moving forward while its inhabitants remain shackled to their histories.

At its core, “Bring Them Down” is about cycles. Cycles of violence. Cycles of guilt. Cycles of men making the same mistakes over and over, too stubborn or broken to step away from the path carved for them. 

The question Andrews poses is as old as time itself - can these cycles ever be broken? Or are some sins too deep to be forgiven?

Bleak, gripping, and punctuated by moments of pitch-black humor, “Bring Them Down” isn’t just a story about vengeance - it’s about the ghosts we inherit, the wounds we pass down, and the weight of a past that refuses to stay buried.