The other bold move, in conventional cinematic terms, is that the two leading characters in this film are female characters. Yes, people, we still live in a world where this factor alone might seem shocking and daring enough to think that this key narrative element does not lead to a softening up of the film at all, that remains quite dark throughout. In fact, Emma Eliza Regan's Cleo is as quiet and dangerous as the man with no name in Leone's dollar trilogy, while the more naive, loyal but self-destructive Emma Willis' Robin is more like the lovable, gullible but deadly Tuco. Furthermore, the two leading actresses in the film deliver restrained performances that thankfully never go over the top, remain balanced and hence strengthen the film's mystique. Their closeness, strong bond and great friendship is an alarming ticking timebomb, which as it develops, cleverly leads to manipulation, lies and a riveting final shootout (a must in a western, right?). Still, their imperfections and vulnerabilities are the product of a troubled past that Darkness on the Edge of Town often refers to.
Sure, the vision is not a vision of realism, and much more inspired by classicist and Shakespearean vibes, made all the more exciting by the visuals and a striking contrast of clodly lit sequences with more stable tripod still shots that recall Kurusawa and even, inevitably, Kubrick - particularly in the latter's use of vividly coloured palettes in such films as A Clockwork Orange. Even the music contributes to the post-modernist vibes, recalling the famous theme from David Lynch's Twin Peaks. In other words, Darkness on the Edge of Town is a film full of enthusuiasm and bravado, minus the frantic pace of the usual other such films. Chances are, repeated viewings may uncover even more surprises. It is, however, certain that Patrick Ryan is a bright young visionary and that only marketing (the area where Irish cinema usually dies) can prevent this film from great success and from being discovered by a larger audience.