Essie's
Last Stand
In the forward to his book 'The Construction of Dublin,' Frank McDonald
speaks of his investigations into the planning of Dublin during the 1980s.
"It was easy then to take 9 months off to do research", he says, "because
so little was happening in the city." Many of us who spent our formative
years in a country boasting unemployment figures nudging 20%, then calmly
and naturally moving to the US, France, Germany, Australia and the UK in
search of work before returning to participate in a transformed economy
(driving up house prices into the bargain), might be accused of not a little
hypocrisy in remembering the pre-Tiger era as an easier going, more human
time. But there is nonetheless a largely unspoken suspicion amongst many
in Ireland today that babies and bath-water might have got mixed up in the
relentless abandon with which our brave new world has been embraced.
The subject matter of 'The Construction of Dublin' finds echoes in Liam
McGrath's short documentary Essie's Last Stand. In 1990 there was not one
private apartment for sale in Dublin's inner city; a figure that had been
significantly upgraded to an astonishing 13,000 by 1999. You'll have to
read the book to learn that however; because McGrath's modest film (twenty
minutes in duration, shot on digital) eschews big cold numbers in its story
of an elderly woman who halted the developer's progress because of old-fashioned
ideas about tradition, community and the right to dissent.
Essie Keeling, the film's subject, is a 76 year old resident of St Ultan's
flats on Charlemont Street. Along with the other occupants of this historic,
if decrepit, development, Essie was offered £1,000 pounds to move out, making
way for the demolition of the complex and the construction of luxury apartments.
She refused. Having lived in the flats for almost 40 years, her grounds
for protest were simple and noble: "Why should I move out of here to go
to a strange place where I wouldn't know anyone", she says. "Just to suit
these developers? No way." The film follows the efforts of Essie and neighbour
Karl Byrne in defying the might of the developers - first by refusing to
move, then by taking their protest onto the street where they explain it
to passers-by and finally bringing their case to the gates of Leinster House,
where Essie speaks to a band of supporters through a megaphone. They are
an impressive pair. He explains that he is willing to break the law (by
ignoring the eviction notice served on him) not only to protect himself
but because he couldn't leave Essie alone (she has a lifetime lease after
spending eight years fighting a rent increase in the 1980s); she tells us
that he is like a son to her and she couldn't let him go into a hostel.
As they look across the road at anonymous new apartments where once the
community's shops, pubs and neighbours were, Karl says, "If Ultan's goes,
you might as well not call it Charlemont Street anymore."
Nell McCafferty, standing among the many sidewalk supporters of Essie's
cause, identifies the protest's source of fascination for the press and
public as being about something more than just an old woman's fight against
greedy landlords. Their support, she says, comes from "a huge relief that
somebody has said stop". Essie's Last Stand is not a major work, but nor
was it intended to be. It leaves several questions unanswered - not the
least of which is the final outcome of Essie's protest. There is a suggestion
that the corporation will take over the flats, but possibly due to the television
origins of the piece, we never find out if this came about. Documentary
viewers long for some sense of narrative closure, even the familiar textual
conclusions which are typical of the genre. It is also overwhelmingly one-sided.
The developers are kept firmly placed as ogres in the viewer's mind by never
being granted the opportunity to appear on screen. (many, no doubt, would
claim that this merely reflects the facelessness of the solicitor's letters
by which they communicate.) But the film is primarily interested in Essie
and it is her modest dignity, humanity (she worries about young people not
being able to afford a place to live) and quiet determination, as well as
the loyalty and commitment of her neighbour Karl that linger in the mind.
Proud and articulate he speaks for many in his assertion not to become one
of "Dublin's invisible people." Essie's Last Stand can be seen as a companion
piece to the more substantial Alive, Alive O, also produced by Loopline
Films (showing in its completed form at this year's Film Fleadh), which
examines the fading culture of street traders in the capital and a worthy
successor to McGrath's equally sensitive Southpaw, which also showed us
a proud and marginalised community defying mainstream expectations.
Tony Tracy |
