Dancing through the Doors of Reflection
It’s a clear indicator of the power of a piece of art or work that you can distinctly remember the first time you experienced it. Be it an object, painting, song, film or book. Of all the millions of moments any individual will collect throughout their lifetime, the ones that filter through feel like the birth of new solar systems, catapulting you to an entirely new destinations, or whole new ways of seeing. There was before the event, then there is the forever after.
One such event for myself was seeing a pre-release screening of Danny Boyle’s 1996 film Trainspotting based on the book by one Irvine Welsh. In a rapturous vibrant glow we collectively walked, actually, more realistically flew out of the film on such a rush that it felt like the entire audience had just done lines the length of the train tracks from Edinburgh to London. A riotous and viciously raw blend of degradation, self destruction, euphoria, bruising reality, and razor blade honesty that maybe left you on an adrenaline high, scarred for life, but most importantly, it made you feel alive.
It was like a boot camp for the soul, where it wasn’t guaranteed anyone would survive. Where the creative planets aligned in the unfiltered urban Scottish vernacular poetry of Welsh blended with the pioneering energy of Boyle, the imagery of the Tomato design collective and one of the best soundtracks to a film ever. And that’s all even before a truly stellar cast doing some of their finest performances they’ve ever done to this day.
The film, like the book, and Irvine himself were a revelation, set in a foundation of revolution. Not a bad start for his first novel.
15 novels, multiple short story compilations, screenplays and theatre plays later his willingness (calling) to venture into the shadows of life, where we stick our guilts like calloused spent gum in the corners of our subconscious, has not ebbed in the slightest. The things we not only mask from others, but deny we are even wearing. As you can imagine, a lifetime of such observation and participation will hopefully teach you a thing or two.
Thankfully someone else in the guise of director Paul Sng also recognised that the world could be a much better place if the wisdom of this Caledonian shaman was captured and shared to all, and has done just that service to mankind in his wonderful forthcoming documentary Irvine Welsh: Reality Is Not Enough (2025). We’ve followed and covered Paul’s ever expanding stable of stellar documentaries for many years at FLUSH. Never disappointing at bringing topics or individuals that might normally reside on the edges of society, ignored, forgotten or hidden by design (particularly in relation to the working class), he gently invites them into focus, giving them the opportunity to be seen, heard, and more importantly for us to learn, more often than not something we need to hear, and be aware is happening.
Irvine is no doubt the most well known subject Sng has covered, but none of the empathy, understanding and clear affection for the person or situation he has liberally shown in previous films is lost here, if anything it has been heightened. Paul is on record as being a huge fan of Welsh and how seeing and reading Trainspotting was a transformative experience for him, but there is no blind fanboy fawning going on here. One out of clear respect for the subject, but also there’s no fucking way Irvine would tolerate it.
The true treasure of the film is undoubtedly the fact we are hearing from the man himself. So often is the case that a conveyor belt of sound bite bobble heads lined up to impart a humorous anecdote. As fun as they are, it is only right that this is unfiltered access, spoken by him, in the way that he speaks, which reminds me of the utter joy of knowing that Trainspotting had to be subtitled in the US.
There’s no such confusion in this film, the Scottish lilt may have softened the sound of the words, but they still pack a punch, all the while sporting a bonus cheeky glint in the eye.
Irvine is a self avowed journeyman his entire life, embracing, sampling, tasting, learning and admirably experiencing his way through life, his own, and through the myriad of friends he surrounds himself, from most recent, to primary school mates that he still meets up with. There is never an air of this is the way it is, but a humble this is what I’ve learned so far, and this is how I think based upon that knowledge, see what you think about it. Followed by a healthy wonderment of what else is out there?
Briefly returning to the impact of reading a book for the first time, I distinctly remember reading Aldous Huxley’s The Doors of Perception (1954) many years ago, and been genuinely transported to other realms by the power of words and descriptions that author wrote while being in the midst of having taken mescaline, which induced a potent psychedelic journey for a number of hours.
Given Aldous had a profound capacity for observation and being able to transform those thoughts into powerful descriptive words, reading it allowed the reader to have an insight of the journey, from the alternate reality of the outside of the page. We simultaneously got to experience our ‘reality’ at the same time as multiple others. It’s one of my favourite books ever.
I raise it as a similar device is employed to an extent in Reality Is Not Enough in a hilarious sequence of events that has Irvine having a desire to experience DMT for the first time. The film does exactly what it says on the tin, or more realistically the poster and title.
The psychedelic drug 5-MeO-DMT is vastly more potent than mescaline, and is said to have the capacity to obliterate the self, the ego and instigate a rebirth of the self, a reset of who an individual believes themselves to be. It may not last the duration of mescaline, but it is dramatically more intense, to the extent that Irvine felt transported back in the womb.
The event works on so many delightful levels, signposting Irvine’s lack of ego in the first place, his ceaseless desire to learn forever, a moment of distinct hilarity while engaging with the psychedelic ‘guides’, and as a wonderful gateway device for the viewers to travel with Irvine through his entire life.
There’s a quote attributed (unconfirmed) to American real estate developer, motivational speaker George Addair, ‘Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear.’ I’ve no idea if Irvine is aware of these words, but he’s certainly embracing them. While the spiritual guides for the treatment discuss aspects of the forthcoming ‘trip’, it all starts to sound distinctly ‘woo-woo’, and you can almost feel Welsh start to tense up with this selection of words, phrases and descriptions that are somewhat alien to the worlds he rotates or seeks.
Realistically the only words that should be listened to, or felt, are the ones radiating from within his emerging internal universe, yet they effectively emphasise a brutal inefficiency, despite his occupation, to describe something that maybe shouldn’t be describable, as to do so is to lessen it. The moment is deliberately un-quantifiable, there are no apt words, even for such a verbose word alchemist.
While the guides speak of potential lofty destinations, Irvine just wants to play, do it for the sheer joy of nutmegging fear itself, and running around the pitch pulling his jersey like he’s Superman, or Archie Gemmill scoring against Holland in 1978.
That play, a giddy sense of mischievous adventure, experimentation, going against the grain is basically a life force that raves through his veins. It might be ‘aided’ at times, but there’s already clearly a healthy hero dose of vitality pulsating and radiating out, bringing alternative, off-kilter observations, perceptions, endless questions and a sense that the fabric of what we believe to be life, isn’t a preordained pattern or instruction book. And even if there was such a manual, I’m fairly sure he would have immediately written and drawn all over it before ever reading it, if taking in the words at all. And why not, genuine progress doesn’t come from repeating the lives of others, it comes by inspiring the lives of others.
That life force manifested into words on a page as writing became the lifeline that pulled him out of the societal sea that may have one day killed him. Now aboard the good ship Literary Freedom, he could, and did sail the world. The fact that Trainspotting wasn’t actually fully written when he sold it, which of course inspired him to get it done, only adds to the ‘shoot for goal’ chancer spirit that echoes throughout what became his career, just go for it, who knows what will happen. But we definitely know nothing will happen if you don’t go for it.
Maybe that trigger was born on the local football pitch with his mates as kids, mixed with the fantastical belief that the Pilton flats they lived in were effectively spaceships, a heady blend of grit, tarmac and stars. Tiny astronauts with scuffed knees and dreams for goalposts. And just in case death is shite, it’s best to try and score as often as possible.
A potent mix of highs and lows, in chemicals and squalor, it only seeded an addiction to curiosity, not in the reduction or hiding from any situation, but expanding it. Again pushing past self inflicted fences that all too often society consciously builds in our collective subconscious. Just burn the fucking fence down.
As Irvine floats through his new innersphere, we travel throughout his life hearing the key moments and where possible meeting the people that helped form and continue his evolution into, who knows what. And that lack of destination is key, it’s not a particular place you are aiming for, it’s the insane conversations you have with random inebriation of choice giddy miscreants on the night bus home, spontaneous insights, weird perspectives, tales of rave battle-scars, or the rush of scrumpin apples as a kid, these are the genuine organic ingredients and moments in our over processed lives.
Given some of the no doubt ecstatic and frenzied times he has survived through, it is a wonderfully relaxing series of tales and people that he shares with us. Inter-spliced with genuinely mesmerising readings from his books by such cultural stalwarts as Liam Neeson, Maxne Peake, Nick Cave, Ruth Negga and a truly unbelievable piece by Stephen Graham that screams he should be given anything he wants to narrate the entire book, such is the palpable resonance he evokes.
There’s a serene calm that only comes from someone who has tried and experienced so much, not a pious wisdom, but a universal peace, a recognition and empathy, and an openness to share. It’s a deft choice by Sng to allow this calm flow, not only in sync with the DMT, but to create a fascinating watch for the viewer, where my only issue would be the buzz isn’t not many hours longer.
This zen stillness also makes it more accessible to a larger audience, which regardless of his success, Irvine genuinely deserves, as much as a shock to their systems his work might be. But that’s the thing, like the safety demo they give on planes, they say strap the mask onto you before helping others. If you look after who you are, your thinking and your journey, you are in a far better place to help others. Admittedly Welsh says his years of the aforementioned nickin’ apples as a kid did teach them how to rob houses (as a kid), but there are a great many other gems and stories to learn from this utter delight of a film, that hopefully inspires you to do what the fuck you like.
And maybe they should start handing out DMT on flights now too?
9/10
Irvine Welsh: Reality Is Not Enough is released in UK cinemas 26 September, details and tickets can be found at www.realityisnotenoughfilm.co.uk. To celebrate the launch of the film there are multiple Q&A screenings of the film with Paul and Irvine*, click the links for tickets.
Mon 22 Sep DCA Dundee*
Tues 23 Sep Cameo Edinburgh*
Wed 24 Sep GFT Glasgow*
Thur 25 Sep Edencourt Inverness
Sun 28 Sep Depot Lewes
Mon 29 Sep Tyneside Cinema
Wed 1 Oct Rio Cinema, Soho*
Thur 2 Oct Curzon Soho*