The act of paying tribute to some cherished artist or public figure in the form of a film is a pretty challenging endeavour, particularly because it requires a writer or director to stand at a structural crossroads, choosing their preferred approach to examining their life’s story. Do you explore it from start to finish (the style commonly referred to as the “cradle-to-grave” approach), or do you focus on one particular chapter in their life, in which everything else is contained in some form? There certainly isn’t any set of guidelines in which the ideal process is outlined, and it’s usually a matter of how far a filmmaker wants to experiment, which often leads to some being more innovative and daring than others. This ultimately brings us to the subject of this conversation, Samuel Beckett, an artist whose work is so strong and their legacy immensely fascinating that he barely even warrants an introduction, particularly since he’s viewed as a defining figure in 20th-century literature, and quite simply one of the greatest writers of all time. We also don’t need to research him for too long before we realize that he had an incredibly fascinating life, which spans almost the entirety of the 20th century, stretching from his childhood in Ireland in the early 1900s, right to his death in Paris in 1989, the time in between being filled to the brim with events, occurences and experiences that shaded in his perspective and led him to become one of the world’s greatest writers, and someone whose work speaks for itself. Dance First is an attempt to examine his life and legacy, with screenwriter Neil Forsyth and director James Marsh (who has helmed a few very effective biographical films in the past) tackling various moments in his long and storied existence to provide the most complete and thorough portrait of Beckett, following his journey from ambitious young upstart who sat at the feet of James Joyce, his idol-turned-nemesis (but who he seemingly admired to the very end of his life), to becoming an elder statesman of literature in his own right, a journey filled with challenges and obstacles that are perfectly reflected in his writing, from which this film takes the majority of its inspiration.

When choosing the approach for a biographical film, it can sometimes be very effective to look at the subject and attempt to emulate their style, or at least allow it to be the inspiration for the structure of the narrative. Beckett’s penchant for more experimental forms of writing, as well as the role he played in the movement often defined under the name “The Theatre of the Absurd”, was heavily used in the construction of Dance First, which begins with the writer being bestowed the Nobel Prize for Literature, which he begrudgingly accepts before stepping into his mind, where he engages in an internal monologue, presented as a conversation with a more measured, rational version of himself. This is the impetus for the rest of the film, with Beckett debating who will receive the prize money, as he intends to give it away to the most deserving recipient, going through all the people with whom he has had a contentious relationship throughout his life, including his strict mother, his idol James Joyce (and his mentally ill daughter with whom Beckett was forced into a friendship against his will) and the woman he would marry later in life, and who stood by his side almost until his death. Each of these people was vitally important in his growth as both an artist and a man, yet he felt such tremendous guilt for how they were all treated, for which he seeks some kind of atonement, despite the clear challenges that come when revisiting the ghosts of the past. The film takes an episodic approach exploring the different stages of Beckett’s life, filtering how growth as a writer through the various people with whom he had a relationship, attempting to shed some light into the trials and tribulations of a notoriously private individual who seemingly preferred to keep everything very close to his chest. As far as thematic concepts go, Dance First has some very terrific ideas, with the focus being on the character-driven side of the narrative, not only in terms of Beckett himself but all the other characters that exist on the periphery and make the story so exceptionally compelling.

One of the fundamental challenges with making a film about Beckett is that his life was shrouded in a kind of public-facing privacy. He may have been active in his industry and was never entirely against being present to discuss his work, but he was far from the epitome of a man-about-town, and his reputation was bolstered by his ferocious adherence to conventions, right down to the most inconsequential of interactions. As a result, we don’t know all too much about him outside of his work and what he was willing to let everyone know – and this posed an intriguing challenge for the filmmakers, who had to explore the life of this iconoclastic writer without having too many resources on which to build their version of him. Much of the brilliance of this film lies in how much Marsh relies on his actors to make certain decisions, which extends far beyond Beckett’s character, and instead is consistent throughout the entire cast. Beckett is played by a few actors of different ages, but most prominently Fionn O’Shea as the younger version, and Gabriel Byrne is in the older (and more recognizable) interaction. There isn’t too much cohesion between the two approaches to characterization, but this seems intentional – Beckett is divided into two characters, one a disobedient and callous young man who seems to be angry at the world for reasons we don’t quite understand, and a more quiet, pensive older man who is realizing that life is very short, leading to several complex experimentations with his craft in an attempt to be immortal. O’Shea is a talented young actor, but he is unfortunately shoehorned into the dull of the two versions of Beckett, having to portray his formative years without the benefit of the eccentricities that made him such an interesting character. This instead falls to Gabriel Byrne, one of our greatest actors, and someone who is so exceptionally good in this film, we start to miss him in the first act when his character only appears sporadically – but when he takes over the narrative, he’s doing career-best work, proving that some actors’ best performances are concealed in very small, underseen films that they almost single-handedly elevate.

In addition to the routes taken to bring Beckett and the other characters to life on screen, Dance First is defined by a very simple structure in terms of tone. The more daring narrative approach is complemented by a sense of poignant simplicity, particularly in how the film handles its emotional content, which is much quieter and more compelling than we would expect based on a cursory glance. This is where Marsh has shown himself to be remarkably adept in the past, since he rarely goes for large, expansive setpieces that leave audiences reeling in enthusiasm, he instead depends on a quieter and more subtle command of these stories, which ultimately coalesce in something more straightforward but not any less engaging. However, with any biographical film, there are going to be elements a director wants to avoid as far as possible, and while it is an undeniably very compelling film, Dance First can only do so much before it falls into the same set of complications that prevent it from reaching true greatness. Make no mistake – this is a very solid, compelling film in which all the elements are present and certainly worth our time. However, the shortcomings are small but still become quite noticeable, especially in the tonal shifts that occur throughout the film – this isn’t a work that needs to decide whether it is a comedy or a drama, but the opening scenes are so compelling, with the absurdist philosophy that defined so much of Beckett’s work is fundamental to those moments. Yet, as the film progresses it begins to lose momentum, leading to a middle section that feels slightly too stilted – we know where it is heading (based on the opening scenes), but where it spends too much time on unnecessary detail, we start to grow impatient, waiting for it to return to the more playful, abstract approach that defined it at the start. It’s not too egregious, and a film spending time on historical context is not an inherent flaw – nonetheless, it does stall the film in a few parts and prevents it from reaching those impossible heights that it set for itself at the outset.

Dance First is not the first film to explore the life and times of Beckett, and it may not even be the most definitive – yet, it’s still a very compelling work and a film that captures his madcap spirit as seen through a few key moments in his life. Marsh has made a career from reliable, consistent biographical dramas that are more focused on creating meaningful connections with the subjects than they are innovation, which is perfectly understandable and one of the many reasons we may find value in his work, even when it isn’t as exciting as those films made by some of his peers. Beckett is a fascinating subject, and while the film is more intent on exploring the man behind the absurdist masterpieces (and thus there are not many conversations around the nature of his work, outside of the central motif of presenting his inner monologue as akin to Waiting for Godot), which may be controversial amongst those looking for a more obvious deconstruction of his creative process, but which ultimately does form the foundation for an engaging, well-crafted biographical account that is surprisingly effervescent for a film that tackles over eighty years of his life, understanding that it cannot include everything, and rather chooses to draw attention to the omissions, which can sometimes speak louder than any spoken words. Moving and entertaining in equal measure, but always fascinating in how it examines Beckett’s life, Dance First is quite effective and offers us everything we could need for an engaging and charming investigation into the life of one of the 20th century’s most important, singular artists.