The show follows three estranged siblings — Róisín (Nicola Coughlan), Declan (James Cosmo), and Siobhán (Kathy Kiera Clarke) — who are forced to reunite in Belfast when their mother Eileen (Bríd Brennan) is diagnosed with terminal cancer. What begins as a reluctant family homecoming quickly unravels into a darkly funny, painfully honest portrait of love, resentment, guilt, and the things we never say until it’s too late. Eileen, a fiercely independent Catholic widow who raised her children alone after their father left, has spent decades hiding her own pain. Now, with only months left, she decides she wants to “get to heaven on her own terms” — a plan that involves reconciling with her past, forcing her children to confront theirs, and making peace with a city and a family she feels has failed her.
The series is set almost entirely in the family’s cramped terraced house in West Belfast, with occasional trips to pubs, graveyards, and the city’s troubled edges. McGee’s writing is razor-sharp — the dialogue crackles with Belfast wit, profanity, and tenderness. The humor is never cheap; it’s the kind that comes from people who have lived through violence, poverty, and loss, and learned to laugh to survive. “Belfast humour isn’t gentle,” McGee said in a recent interview. “It’s a weapon and a shield. This family uses it the way they always have — to say the things they can’t say straight.”
Nicola Coughlan is a revelation as Róisín, the eldest daughter who fled to London and built a successful career but carries deep guilt for leaving her mother behind. James Cosmo brings gruff warmth as Declan, the brother who stayed and resents everyone who didn’t. Kathy Kiera Clarke is heartbreaking as Siobhán, the youngest, who has spent her life trying to keep the family together. Bríd Brennan, as Eileen, gives the performance of a lifetime — a woman who has spent decades being strong for everyone else, now finally allowing herself to be vulnerable.
The show never shies away from the Troubles’ lingering scars. Belfast is not just a backdrop — it’s a character. Murals, peace walls, bombed-out lots, and the ever-present sound of helicopters overhead remind us that history is still alive in every conversation. Yet the series is never heavy-handed. It finds beauty in small moments: a shared cigarette on the back step, a song sung together in the kitchen, a mother teaching her daughter how to make soda bread “the right way.”
Critics have been unanimous. The Guardian gave it five stars: “A masterpiece of restrained emotion — funny, furious, and deeply moving.” Variety called it “the best Irish drama since Normal People.” On Rotten Tomatoes, it holds a 95% critics score and 92% audience score, with viewers saying “I cried through the last two episodes” and “This show healed something in me I didn’t know was broken.”
