Heading into the Walker’s Cinema to see “Hunger” a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

My exposure to McQueen had been minimal. I had recently worked on a still from one of his films for The Quick and the Dead exhibition catalogue (which opens at the Walker next week). I knew he is a British visual artist (and not the American actor who died in 1980) and that his films fall into the experimental category. I knew this was his first feature film. And, I had seen the powerful trailer for it. http://www.hungerthemovie.co.uk/#/video/

As for the subject of the film, Irish Republican Army member, Bobby Sands, who starved himself to death while being held in prison by the British in the early Eighties, I knew a little more. I remembered the bloody battles, the bombings, the hunger strike, and Sands’ final days being counted in the news.

I also knew of the countless critical acclaims the film was getting and of the awards it had received.

Moments into the film, I understood exactly why it is getting such reviews. It is beautifully-visualized, tightly-edited and perfectly-acted. Yes, of course, it has experimental elements. But the film wouldn’t succeed so well if it didn’t have them.

To me, there are many religious overtones in the film. Fitting, since the war the IRA was fighting was intertwined with religious freedom. My perception is that day-to-day life in Northern Ireland is heavily influenced by the church.

The story is told in three acts. First is the brutal life inside the Maze prison near Belfast where IRA prisoners were held. Second is the discussion between Sands and a Catholic priest about merits of Sands’ decision to go on a hunger strike. Third is the days following Sands’ decision until his death. To place the viewer squarely in the environment, the camera and sound often focus on the smallest of details.

The film opens following one of the guards preparing for a day’s work. It shows him, among other things, in his pullover sweater quietly having his morning tea from a flowery cup and eating pastries. There is a close-up shot of crumbs falling to the lace napkin on his lap. Maybe it’s just me being a “tuff” American thinking only wussies have lace napkins in their laps and that wussies certainly can’t be mean. Ha, but there are also close-ups of his bloodied knuckles. For me, many questions surrounded this guard. He had an Irish accent. At times it seemed as though he was in conflict with what he was doing to the prisoners. But when it came to controlling them, it appeared he relished doing so. Was it just a job that he had for years that morphed into something he didn’t sign up for when these unusual prisoners came along? Was it unquestioned duty typical in a strong religious culture? Or did he totally believe these prisoners needed to be taught a lesson? His anger said “maybe.”

The prison act has some of the most brutal and disturbing scenes in a film that I can remember. Comparisons to what we know of Abu Grahib and Guantanamo are completely understandable and legitimate.

IRA prisoners sent to Maze refused to wear prison-issued clothing and often went naked. They also started the “dirty protest” in which their excrement was smeared on the cell walls. There is very little dialog in this act. I’ve been in prisons numerous times as a journalist, but just a few hours at a time. I would imagine that most of the time not much is said there. Maybe the incarcerated don’t talk because they live in their imagination. Maybe they don’t want to expend the energy. Maybe they’re bored/depressed. Maybe, especially for political prisoners, they assume guards are listening. The life here is told through stunning visuals and intense scenes of the prison experience. As Emily points out, the sound design in the cells puts the finishing touch on just how real these shots feel. Much of what is on the sound tract is happening outside the cells. Of the many memorable scenes, one stands out to me as quite symbolic. A prisoner plays with a house fly at the expanded metal screen over the cell window. The fly is free to come and go but most likely calls the filth in the cell its home, too. They are cellmates.

The discussion between Sands and the priest in the middle act also has a few symbolic threads. The priest is upset because his younger brother, who is also a priest, got promoted to have a whole parish, complete with two cars, a maid and a driver and a much larger salary. So much for a Roman Catholic priest believing in the 10th Commandment. Sands, using the same arguments that possibly Jesus used, tries to justify his decision to use his body to stand up to government in the name of freedom. The priest says it’s suicide and that the Brits won’t cave. Is this the same discussion that was made at the Last Supper? The majority of this act is made in one, 17-minute-long, single camera shot. Truly amazing.

Michael Fassbender lost 40 pounds to show how Sands deteriorated in the 66 days leading to his death. The shots here are very poetic. He slowly starts to hallucinate and then examine some of his childhood days. I bring along a bit of baggage when it comes to films showing death. I watched my mother’s last gasps for air and I’ve thought countless hours of what my brother was going through in the final hours before his suicide. In my eyes, McQueen depicted it perfectly.

It was difficult relating to Sands as a sympathetic character. Most of us can’t connect to life in prison. Especially that prison and those conditions. And most of us don’t consider dying for what we believe in. I think what McQueen wants us to do is observe. To live with the prisoners. I did for those 96 minutes.