Ray Stevenson, whom he directed in the comic-book adaptation Thor in 2011, once remembered Branagh encouraging him to play his role as loudly as possible.
With Belfast, a new work of cinematic memoir that explores Branagh’s childhood in 1960s Northern Ireland, he is finally swimming to shore, telling a nuanced family story that’s tinged with comedy and tragedy, and none of his trademark bombast.
The protagonist is a mischievous 8-year-old named Buddy , a working-class boy from a tight-knit Protestant family that is trying to navigate the sectarian violence breaking out on the streets around them.
Certainly, Buddy is alarmed that his Catholic neighbors are being harassed and having their windows broken by mobs, and he knows that his parents keep arguing over whether they should stay in Belfast or flee the violence and live in England.
The moments that make the boldest impression revolve around the art Buddy consumes, hinting at worlds beyond the streets and alleys he roams. Though Belfast is mainly black-and-white, Branagh keeps the color of the film clips that Buddy sees, like they’re a glossy shock to the boy’s system.
Belfast’s greatest success is that its flashbacks are undeniably personal, providing a specific window into the past; were Branagh to have broadened the scope, he’d likely have lost the truthfulness that comes from using his childhood self as an artistic conduit.