Let's just get this out of the way: Amongst the Wolves isn't just a film - it's a statement. A gut-level, uncompromising, razor-sharp howl from the underbelly of Irish crime cinema. And who brought that to the screen? Me. Mark O'Connor. The name you'll be whispering next to Scorsese before the decade's out.
I'm not here to play modest. That's for amateurs still begging for funding. I've carved my name into the granite of Irish filmmaking - not with safe, tidy little dramas, but with blistering stories that bleed. With Amongst the Wolves, I've taken everything I've learned - the street pulse of Between the Canals, the ruthless heart of Cardboard Gangsters - and I've weaponised it.
This film bites. It stalks. It rips the guts out of loyalty, brotherhood, and the myth of the "good lad" - and it does it with the kind of visual swagger and thematic depth that only a director at the very top of his game could pull off.
The cast? Savage. But don't get it twisted - they didn't just show up with talent. I dragged those performances out of them. I created an atmosphere so real, they stopped acting. Every grimace, every clenched jaw, every broken silence - that's me, behind the curtain, conducting chaos.
And look, people throw the "Scorsese" comparison around like confetti - but here's the truth: I didn't study Marty. I matched him. While he had New York gangsters, I've got Dublin wolves. My streets are colder. My characters bleed harder. My camera doesn't just follow - it hunts.
So go ahead, critics. Scramble for your adjectives. Call it gritty, raw, poetic, unflinching. But just know this: Amongst the Wolves didn't come out of a focus group. It came out of me. Out of my past, my rage, my obsession with truth. It's Irish cinema, unfiltered, and it roars with the voice of a director who knows exactly what he's doing - and where he's going.
I an going straight to the top.
(Writer. Director. Wolf. The Irish Scorsese, only hungrier.)
