’Sunlight’: Dublin Review

Dir. Claire Dix. Ireland. 2023. 90mins.

Ireland’s Claire Dix looks at assisted dying through the lens of this darkly comic fiction feature written by Joyride’s Ailbhe Keogan. It is former documentary maker Dix’s debut fiction feature and she sets the bar high, straddling some abrupt tonal shifts as a carer and former drug addict played by Barry Ward struggles to accept the fact that his terminally-ill mentor wants to exit life at a time of his own choosing.

Ailbhe Keogan’s narrative structure is classic

Made with Blinder Films (which will release in the UK/Ireland) under the auspices of Ireland’s female-driven POV scheme, Sunlight is set in Dublin over the course of one day and is effectively a three-hander, with Ward’s Leon trying to persuade Iver (Liam Carney) to reconsider as Maria (Maureen Beattie), on hand to assist, looks on. All three have their back stories and differing perspectives as Iver ‘The Viking’ wheels around the city’s Dolphins Barn area prior to his ‘exit’. 

Natural sunlight – or the perfect feeling of ‘sunlight on your face’ – is in limited supply in this lower-budget feature, but Narayan van Maele’s camera does all it can to capture that sentiment. His lenswork (he also shot I Am Not Your Mother) is one of the film’s more potent elements, framing Leon and his struggles. These should be of more appeal to local audiences who will better appreciate the combination of Dix’s daring and the film’s decidedly quirky humour after Sunlight’s premiere at the Dublin International Film Festival, followed by Glasgow.

Even though it clocks in at a trim 90 minutes, Dix and Keogan take a lot on board here. Aspiring musician Leon, captured initially on his keyboard for which he seems to have limited talent, is a recovering heroin addict (three years clean) who is devoted to the man who helped him, Iver ‘The Viking’.  We also see Leon practicing with home-made wheelchair ramps for his housing block – which come in handy later – and running the gamut of drug dealers on the estate before heading to Iver’s house on his day off.

As personified by Ward, Leon is a man-child who has seen better days. His boyish, puppy-like qualities are a little confusing for an older man – it’s never quite clear whether he’s an uncomplicated person or someone with a mental illness. Ward gives him a bad hair-dye and a pudding-bowl haircut, some missing teeth and a poignant air. Iver, meanwhile, is a gruff man in decline, known about town for his Viking re-enactments – a sparsely-nourished part of the plot which drops in and out at a whim, involving horses, breastplates, and pivotal boat called Gudrun. And Maria, played crisply and sympathetically by Beattie, has her own story, assuaging her guilt by trying to help Iver through his last hours. 

With so many references made to Leon’s drug-filled past, it’s inevitable that the third act will hang in some way on the choices he makes now under emotional pressure. Keogan’s narrative structure is classic, too, as Iver deals with his own regrets. It’s the small flourishes that distinguish Sunlight, chief of which are Leon’s quirks. Eternally grateful, if not obsessed, by Iver, he’s a naif with a carer’s licence. ‘You forgave me my sins, and I just did your bins,’ he croons. In this film’s broad strokes, some emotional truths about assisted dying also see the light of day.