Fridae

Childhood, that bastion of innocence as we know today, is not a natural state of affairs. The modern form of childhood was invented some time in the Victorian period as a consequence of the later half of the Industrial Revolution and the corresponding increase in leisure and decrease in child labour – an observation made by historians like Hugh Cunningham, Phillipe Aries and Judith Levine.

In literature and film, we are occasionally reminded of the same point by The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The 400 Blows, which question the notion of an innocent childhood, or the idea that children should be or are indeed protected from the harshness of life. In Kisses, this discovery is made once more as Lance Daly tells the tale of Dylan and Kylie, two very young adolescents running away from abusive parents and the drab poverty of Dublin’s suburbs on Christmas morning, to spend 24 hours in the big city.

Characters they met guide their way from the black-and-white photography of the suburbs to the colour and neon world of Dublin city, as a completion of the pair’s transition from not quite innocent children to not quite experienced adults. A Brazilian immigrant worker working in the canal, a street musician, a working girl, and a Bob Dylan impersonator show them the way to adulthood, illuminated by stunningly beautiful cinematography by Daly and his team.

Kisses, despite being a tale of children that doesn’t condescend to its audience, is still a sweet and charming song of innocence and experience, and should please the arthouse and indie cravings in all of us.