Mick Clifford on the Healy-Rae documentary: A political soap opera turned Greek tragedy

Jerry Kennelly’s documentary turns the Healy-Rae family’s political saga into a compelling tale of loyalty, power and betrayal
TDs Michael and Danny Healy Rae pictured at the Healy Rae Bar, owned by Danny, during Michael's term as a Junior Minister in the Department of Agriculture. Picture: Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films

TDs Michael and Danny Healy Rae pictured at the Healy Rae Bar, owned by Danny, during Michael's term as a Junior Minister in the Department of Agriculture. Picture: Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films

The Healy-Raes would have fitted neatly into ancient Greece, with their heroes, homespun philosophy and unique twist on democracy, all taking shape in the shadow of great and mysterious mountains. 

But above all, as documented in The Healy-Raes: Blood, Sweat and Tears, through their tragedy, Michael takes the role of Icarus, flying too close to power.

Jerry Kennelly’s film on RTÉ was compulsive viewing. The Healy-Raes, as depicted in the unobtrusive narrative, would have been box office without the cracking denouement of Michael’s resignation from government earlier this year. But when Kennelly’s timing coincided with that pot of gold, a lively soap opera took on the character of Greek tragedy.

You may watch politics till the cows come home and you won’t encounter the contorted pain etched on Michael’s face as he raked the embers of his truncated ministerial career. You could nearly see Jackie, God of all the Healy-Raes, in apparition atop the McGillicuddy Reeks, talking down to his broken son. “God blast it man, blame them all for this, but don’t be blaming Danny. Don’t burst up the family.”

The Healy-Raes, as depicted in the film, are not a party so much as a movement. A succession of contributors, each described as a “Healy-Rae supporter”, explained patiently the attraction.

They have their people in every crevice of Kerry life, from the rocky slopes of Coomaciste at the southern extremity all the way to the banks of the Shannon. If anything moves in the undergrowth, a Healy-Rae phone begins pinging within minutes.

“The Healy-Raes were born canvassing,” says communication guru Terry Prone.

“Work, work, work,” says Michael. And there is no doubt that his days are long and he rarely stops to draw breath. But to what end?

Michael Healy Rae pictured in his office at the Department of Agriculture. Picture; Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films
Michael Healy Rae pictured in his office at the Department of Agriculture. Picture; Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films

Nowhere in an extended documentary does Michael, Danny or their various political offspring utter a single political thought other than “helping people”. There is no issue that Michael holds up as an exhibit that his career has been about anything other than getting re-elected.

No private members’ bill. No ‘dog with a bone’ approach to anything of national concern in Oireachtas committee meetings. Not one iota from an intelligent mind on the supposed essence of politics, bettering society as a whole. Instead, it’s all about the constituency, where more often than not “helping people” amounts to giving a root up the rear end to some arm of the public service.

To be fair, the Kennedys of Kilgarvan have gone further on occasion. The establishment, with other politicians in West Cork, of the cataract bus bringing people to the north for treatment is a worthy testament to their constituency work.

“That’s the payday,” Michael says of one constituent who testified to the difference the excursion made to his life. “I’ve helped that person and they’re happy.”

Yet another encounter in the film highlights what his career has largely been about. He tangled on Virgin Media with Ivan Yates following a committee meeting at which Michael was obsequious to the FAI’s John Delaney, at a time when Delaney was failing to answer questions, much to the consternation of all the other committee members. Irrespective of Delaney’s role in dragging the game nationally into major controversy, all Michael saw was a man who once assisted in getting a pitch for a club in north Kerry.

Danny is depicted as the plus-one of the sibling arrangement. “A loose cannon,” according to Yates. At the same time, Danny offers a glimpse at the human behind the politician, particularly recalling how he missed his mother when she left for America.

The older sibling is a horse of a man, but his political persona stands in contrast to the dictum once issued by Mary Harney that “the worst day in government is better than the best day in opposition”.

For Danny, being in opposition means he will never let anybody down. He will always reside on the side of the angels, where he can’t ever be blamed for the compromises that have been integral to governing since the Greeks first stumbled on democracy.

Danny Healy Rae pictured above Commaun Ridge and Caragh Lake. Picture; Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films
Danny Healy Rae pictured above Commaun Ridge and Caragh Lake. Picture; Jerry Kennelly/Local Story Films

All of which brings us to Michael and his Odyssey into the darkness of government on a wing and a prayer. The agreement the brothers struck with Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael after the 2024 election saw Michael become a junior minister in Agriculture. Nobody should be surprised that he was both in his element and doing a damn fine job until the fuel protests exploded earlier this year.

At that point, Danny determined that all bets were off and he was resorting to his role on the side of the angels, or at least the angry protesters. Michael’s goose was cooked. He resigned but was less than frank about his reason for doing so, citing “grown men crying on the side of the road” rather than the brother’s flighty character.

He emerged weeks later, bruised and wingless, to tell Gerry O’Sullivan on Radio Kerry that it was Danny’s treachery rather than the weeping contractors who did for his ministerial career. And yet, what did Danny do but take the path of least resistance, which Michael had himself done all his long career right up until the last election? The Greeks would have made hay with that one.

The next generation of Healy-Rae councillors weighed in along family lines, with Jackie talking on behalf of his old man and John and Maura seeing the split through Danny’s eyes. Netflix producers, are you watching?

The film’s climax is marked by Kennelly pushing a desperately pained Michael on the contrasting reasons he gave the people of Kerry for leaving them high and dry. Michael, uncharacteristically like a man savaged by the Gods, wants it all to end.

“Jerry, can we finish,” he pleads. “Damn it you’re an intelligent man, the sequence of events is clear as a pike staff.” Except Michael’s contrasting explanations are not, and for once he can’t slide off the hook.

Will the people of Kerry forgive and move on? You betcha. The smart money says the movement will retain two seats at the next election.

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