Rich Peppiatt’s feature directing debut, Kneecap, tells the true story of how the titular group came to their fame amidst controversy and personal struggles. While there are a few moments that work, this is a film in search of its own style. Unfortunately, it really wants to be this generation’s Trainspotting, thus hurting any chances of originality or dramatic impact.

Kneecap, the group, is a real life Irish hip-hop trio from West Belfast. Needless to say, their upbringing was shadowed by the echoes of “The Troubles”, a time of upheaval that affects the politics of the area even today. The director wrote the film with the group’s three members; Mo Chara, Móglaí Bap (brothers Naoise and Liam Óg) and DJ Próvaí. While they infuse the film with a few incidents from their lives, this is a fictionalized version of their story.

Coming of age in Northern Ireland, the young men grew up without their father Arlo (Michael Fassbender). Their “Da” was forced to fake his own death when they were young, as the government was after him for his involvement with the IRA. Their mother, Dolores (Simone Kirby), feels betrayed by her husband’s actions and doesn’t want to see him, even though the boys meet with him from time to time.

Naoise and Liam are drug dealing rebels without clues until they meet a music teacher named JJ (JJ Ó Dochartaigh). Through a rather ridiculous sequence where he must translate the Irish language for a cop that has arrested Liam, JJ becomes a conduit to their creativity. The teacher becomes their DJ and their sex, drug and violence-filled rise to success begins.

Kneecap doesn’t have the urgency of a film such as Curtis Hanson’s 8 Mile. Hanson went deep into Eminem’s biography, getting to the beating heart of the man and his music. As Eminem played a version of himself, so did the members of Kneecap. The dramatic possibilities should have increased with the group acting out their own tale, but director Peppiatt is too concerned with being hip and flashy; a mistake that drowns the story of these lads in annoying excess.

The in-your-face direction never allows the viewer to become involved in their lives. The drama is surface level, while the power of their music (these guys are talented!) fails to hit until the end credits where the director finally allows a glimpse into their majestic stage presence.

The picture isn’t a complete loss. The story of the group is blanketed by the push for the Irish Language Act, a campaign by language groups within Northern Ireland to see Irish language rights (and the protection of their language) realized. The power of how these issues helped to shape these young men works well and holds one of the film’s few scenes of real emotion.

Although Michael Fassbender’s role is underwritten (and the actor underused), he gets the film’s best line. The boys father teaches them the importance of keeping their native language alive. As he tells his wee lads, “Every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom.” The line is repeated and enhanced towards the finale and holds an emotional spark so intensely moving that it makes one feel sad how a large part of the film fizzles.