Kneecap.

Kneecap tells the story, loosely, of the founding of the popular Irish-language rap trio of the same name, with the three members playing themselves. It’s mostly fictional and entirely hilarious. (It’s on Netflix in the U.S.)

The band Kneecap has risen to significant prominence in both their native Northern Ireland and in Ireland over the last decade, but this biopic blends truth with fiction, although writer/director Rich Peppiatt told NPR that the wilder stuff is the truth and the “mundane” stuff is fabricated. The two MCs switch between Irish and English, between pro-Republican and pro-Irish language activism and rhymes about drinking and drugs, rapping over beats that draw more from the golden age of hip-hop than anything in the last 30 years of American rap. Their second album, Fine Art, featured guest spots from Fontaines D.C. vocalist Grian Chatten and British rapper Jelani Blackman, and the song “3CAG” became a top 10 hit on Ireland’s pop chart.

Kneecap’s script creates some structure around the group, from member Naoise’s father being an ex-Republican paramilitary who faked his death to avoid arrest to a story about how the two rappers connected with their schoolteacher DJ. The throughline, and the real heart of the film, is the rapid, organic rise in popularity that came from their live gigs and a protest campaign that got one of their first songs played on an Irish-language radio station across the island. It has some of the trappings of classic up-from-obscurity music biopics, but avoids many of the tropes of the genre – the drug use is almost entirely comic, rather than leading to some sort of tragedy or downfall; the band doesn’t break up only to come together at the end; there’s a love interest that doesn’t divide the band or otherwise derail them.

The trio’s ascent has been rapid enough that the screenplay instead layers on a political story, from Naoise’s father, played with brilliant understatement by Michael Fassbender, to a Northern Irish police officer who believes they’re dangerous activists, to run-ins with a group called Radical Republicans Against Drugs. Nearly all of this is made up for the movie, and it’s just about all funny even when there’s a serious subtext like the suppression of native Irish language and culture in British-ruled Ulster. The three members of Kneecap are natural performers, to the point where I thought for much of the film that DJ Próvaí was being played by an actor when he’s just playing himself.

The Irish Film & Television Academy submitted Kneecap as the country’s entry for this year’s Academy Award for Best International Feature, and it made the December shortlist of 15 titles. Only one Irish film has ever made the final list of nominations, 2022’s The Quiet Girl (which is fantastic), but Kneecap appears to have a real shot to become the second, and I’d be thrilled if it means more people seek this movie out. It’s a riot, and it’s something novel – it’s not a straight biopic, it’s not a parody or a mockumentary, and it’s about a specific culture that was mostly new to me (I mean, I’ve watched Derry Girls). And because it doesn’t take itself too seriously, or seriously at all, the underlying theme of pride in one’s culture and language is far more effective than it would have been if they’d played it straight. It’s not going to beat Emilia Perez for the Oscar, but it’s a way better film.