Over the past few years, Irish writer and director Claire Dix has been gathering awards left, right and centre for her short films and music videos. Combining the two for her feature debut Broken Song, Dix’s artistic and intimate study of rappers from Ballymun has also been raking in well-deserved accolades, scooping up both the Audience Award and Michael Dwyer Discovery Award at the JDIFF film festival this year.

An admitted hip hop novice, Dix explains how an impromptu performance left her inspired to tell the story of young musicians struggling to express the challenges of their lives.
“I met GI and Costello and they rapped a cappella in the Reco centre in Ballymun, and I was just blown away. I thought that there was definitely something there. And I knew nothing about the scene, my knowledge of hip hop was mainstream, but I thought there was something about their work and lyricism. There was a story that needed to be told.”
Working with Irish production company Zucca Films and the Arts Council, Dix’s film is intimate and visually striking, and thankfully avoids the exploitative, voyeuristic and gritty approach that can too often feel like misery porn for middle-class documentary lovers.
“I knew I wanted to take a poetic approach, because to me, the lads are poets. It had to be a work of art, in order to reflect their work, and to have an almost other-worldly feel. The lads say, ‘It’s not just rap, it’s our religion’, so we needed an approach that reflected the fact that rap, for them, is something that really brings them to a higher level. Their artistry transports them.”
This isn’t to say that the hard complications of life are ignored. When Dix met singer Willa Dee, he was up on an assault charge, and one of the film’s climactic mysteries is whether the 19-year old will be sentenced and sent to Mountjoy, or if he’ll be given a second chance to continue his work and turn his life around. This revelation unfolds quietly, without condescension or commentary. Dix, as ever, lets the lads tell their own story.
“There was a big decision there about what to tell and where, because no-one’s black and white. We’re not saying Willa’s perfect at all, he’s been in and out of the courts. And what he did wasn’t good; he hit someone, and the guy has no sense of taste or smell anymore, because Willa did batter him. But we wanted to show that he’s a person, too. So we don’t explain why he was in court until later, when he himself starts telling you what he did. And it’s interesting, because Willa is very magnetic on screen. Because you don’t know what he did initially you’re on his side; then when you hear about the assault it’s a shocking moment – but then immediately after, you hear him rehearsing with this incredible voice of his. So we wanted to show that idea of darkness and light; the fact that he’s done horrible things, but that’s maybe where he got his soulful voice from, and he’s going to do something with it now.”
The film handles the lads’ challenges and struggles beautifully, in part due to Dix’s awareness of her role as a filmmaker. She admits that when a lead character is facing jail time, there’s a pull between her compassionate side and storytelling side in regards to his fate. Though it would have been extremely difficult for Willa and his family were he to be imprisoned, there’s no denying that his self-destruction would have made for great, dramatic cinema.
“That’s always horrible, isn’t it? Thinking of real people as characters and lives as plot points, almost. But you have to put that away or you’d never make a film. Everyone has to battle with that, and as a filmmaker it’s no different. And it’s such a privilege to get access to people’s lives. But I love people, I love story, getting the chance to explore another side of the city and culture and people’s lives that I know nothing about. The responsibility of how you treat that just comes with it.”