Welcome back to Hibernian Horror, a series where I look at the best of Irish horror cinema from over the years. Two weeks ago I took a look at Leitrim indie zombie romp 'Dead Meat', probably the only film where a zombie is decapitated by a hurl. This week however I dive into something a little bit stranger, a film I was only made aware of a couple of months ago, but one that I've been dying to talk about ever since. This week, I look at the bizarro odyssey that is Ivan Kavanagh's Tin Can Man.
Shot in black and white and completed in 2007, Tin Can Man is a bit of an obscurity, but it's a hidden gem that every Irish horror fan must see. The film was recommended to me after watching Ivan Kavanagh's more recent film The Canal (I'll discuss that another day), and after watching the trailer it's safe to say I was very intrigued. Eventually I got around to watching Tin Can Man earlier this year and without a doubt it's one of the most unsettling Irish films that I've ever seen.
The film follows Pete (Patrick O'Donnell), a down-on-his-luck man who has recently been dumped by his girlfriend and is stuck in a dead-end job. One night, Pete receives a knock on the door from a dapper, but unusual man named Dave (Michael Parle) who brings Pete on a dark and surreal journey that will change his life forever. That's the basic premise to Tin Can Man, and what follows is a nightmarish odyssey curated by Michael Parle's unhinged Dave. It's not a film you'll forget anytime soon.
So first of all, the most striking thing about Tin Can Man is that it's shot in black and white. A lot of indie films do this for things like lighting consistency and stuff like that, but something about this film makes me feel like it was a deliberate choice by director Ivan Kavanagh. The imagery is very reminiscent of the likes of Eraserhead, and not just because it's in black and white, but because Kavanagh does everything that he can to make the film as claustrophobic as possible. The dialogue between Pete and Dave near the beginning of the film is made up of extreme close-up shots and low-key lighting, creating this really uncomfortable mood. As the conversation delves into more sinister territory, this air of claustrophobia begins to turn up to eleven and grabs us right the way through. This use of uncomfortable camerawork is frequent throughout the film and paired with the black and white visuals, gives the film a very dizzying, nightmarish feeling.
Anyway, Dave proceeds to whisk Pete off into the night on a surreal odyssey across Dublin, moving from place to place for the sheer purpose of tormenting the poor lad. Be it through his own taunting words or him forcing Pete to visit his estranged father, Dave's sole purpose appears to be simply tormenting Pete for his own personal enjoyment. He eventually takes things a step further when he introduces Pete to the eponymous tin can man, a disturbed individual clad in clanging cans who Dave forces to dance for his enjoyment. The scene with the tin can man, like most of this film, is strange and unsettling, with undertones of humor courtesy of Parle's performance as Dave. There is something undeniably Lynchian about Pete's journey, but it never feels like Kavanagh is mimicking anything particular about the filmmaker. Rather, he created a similar atmosphere that he uses to carry his own ideas, and it works extremely well.
O'Donnell and Parle are both really strong as Pete and Dave respectively. Parle is particularly sinister as Dave, with his dark sense of humor and exotic accent, he's a really interesting character that we know very little about. We know he has a lot of connections, including a mysterious clown, and it's clear that he's wrapped up in some shady sort of underworld. We may only get a sneak peek into Dave's unusual lifestyle, but it's more than enough to grab our curiosity. Pete on the other hand is much more reserved, he's just a regular lad who has been randomly pulled into this abnormal world. His gradual descent into madness is depicted wonderfully by O'Donnell, and we can't help but attach ourselves to him amid all the insanity. They share a brilliant dynamic together, with Dave constantly acting as the tormentor on Pete's shoulder.
The film begins to culminate as the duo wind up at Dave's own home, where his family consisting of an older woman and two younger woman reside with him. He is clearly the patriarch of the family, but it soon becomes clear that they are just as demented as him as they too hop on the tormenting Pete train. They're almost like a more feminine version of the Sawyer family from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as they tie Pete up at the end of their dinner table, but Dave's families motives are much more stranger than just cannibalism. We've spent quite some time following Pete down this dark highway into the bizarre, and the films climax acts as a twisted culmination of it all as we learn the significance of the titular Tin Can Man. But I won't spoil the ending.
Tin Can Man is like some sort of twisted dark carnival, with Pete forcibly strapped in for the ride and Dave as the sinister ringmaster. Part Eraserhead, part Texas Chainsaw, and part Ivan Kavanagh's dark imagination, the film is a nightmarish descent into this surreal underbelly in which Dave operates. Whether he likes it or not Pete is destined to become a part of this world, and the more he descends down this twisted rabbit hole, the less likely he is to escape. Rich with atmosphere and nightmarish imagery, Tin Can Man is a must see film for Irish horror fans. If you're looking for something different, unconventional, and downright disturbing, then I'd highly recommend strapping in and joining Pete and Dave on this twisted odyssey into the darkness.
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