It is hard to watch. Truly. If you sit down to binge the Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes, you aren't just looking at a history lesson or a dry BBC documentary. You are looking at trauma, raw and unvarnished, leaked onto the screen by the people who actually lived through the Troubles. James Bluemel, the director who previously gave us that incredible series on Iraq, did something different here. He didn't interview the politicians or the "big men" of history who usually dominate these narratives. Instead, he found the mothers, the sons, the ex-paramilitaries, and the ordinary people who had to step over bodies on their way to work.
History is messy. Most documentaries try to clean it up with a clear "both sides" narrative or a strict timeline of legislation. This series refuses that. It’s a five-part gut punch. Each episode focuses on a specific era, but they bleed into each other because, honestly, that's how memory works. You don't remember 1972 as a set of statistics; you remember the smell of the smoke or the sound of the plastic bullets hitting the pavement.
The Opening Salvo: It Wasn't Always Like This
The first of the Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes is titled It Wasn't Like a Movie. It sets the stage for the late 1960s. Imagine a place where your neighbors are just your neighbors until, suddenly, they aren't. We meet people like Billy, who grew up in a mixed neighborhood. He talks about how the civil rights marches—inspired by what was happening in the US with Martin Luther King Jr.—started with hope.
But hope curdled fast.
You see the transition from peaceful protest to the introduction of the British Army. One of the most striking things about this episode is how it captures the initial reaction to the soldiers. People gave them tea. They thought the army was there to protect them. The shift from "protector" to "occupier" is shown through the eyes of those who watched it happen in real-time. It’s a masterclass in showing how quickly a society can fracture when trust evaporates.
The Hunger and the Heat of the 80s
By the time you get to the middle Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes, specifically So Many Broken Hearts, the focus shifts to the 1981 hunger strikes. This is heavy stuff. We’ve all seen the posters of Bobby Sands, but hearing from the women who loved the men on strike? That’s different.
The documentary brings in voices like Sandra, whose brother was on the strike. She doesn't talk about "martyrdom" in a political sense. She talks about the physical reality of watching someone starve. It’s visceral. The series manages to balance the intensity of the Republican hunger strikers with the absolute terror felt by the Protestant community, who felt their entire world was under siege.
There is no "hero" here. There is just survival. The 1980s were arguably the darkest time, a decade of tit-for-tat killings that felt like they would never end. The series captures that "stuck" feeling perfectly. People got used to the violence. That’s the scariest part. You see a woman describing how she’d check under her car for bombs before taking the kids to school like it was just another chore, like checking the tire pressure.
The Complexity of the Fighters
The third and fourth Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes do something brave: they let the paramilitaries speak. Not to justify what they did, but to explain the "why" of that specific moment in time.
Take Ricky O’Rawe, a former IRA member. He’s articulate and reflective, yet he doesn't shy away from the reality of the violence. Or look at the loyalist perspectives. Often, documentaries lean one way or the other, but Bluemel forces the viewer to sit with the discomfort of hearing a man describe why he felt he had to pick up a gun to defend his street.
It highlights the cyclical nature of the conflict. A kid sees a soldier harass his mother; that kid joins the IRA. A Protestant man sees his shop blown up; he joins the UVF. It’s a machine that eats people. The episode Do People Actually Live Here? covers the mid-70s to the early 80s, showcasing the sheer absurdity of life in a war zone that isn't technically a war.
The Fragile Peace and the Cost of Silence
The final of the Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes, Who Wants to Live Like That?, brings us toward the Good Friday Agreement. But it isn't a celebratory "and they all lived happily ever after" ending.
Far from it.
The series concludes by looking at the scars that haven't healed. The peace was a political fix, but for the families of the disappeared or the victims of the Omagh bombing, the "peace" is quiet, not resolved. One of the most poignant interviews is with a woman named Bernadette, who lost her son. Her grief is as fresh now as it was decades ago. It reminds us that while the "Troubles" might be over as a news headline, they are very much alive in the kitchens and living rooms of Belfast and Derry.
The genius of the series is that it doesn't give you an out. It doesn't tell you who was right. It just asks you to look at the human cost of being "right."
Why This Series Matters Now
You might think, "Why watch this now? It's over." But look at the world. Look at how polarized things are. The Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland episodes serve as a warning. They show how thin the veneer of civilization really is. It only takes a few bad decisions by leadership and a lot of hurt feelings on the ground for a neighbor to become an enemy.
The production value is also worth noting. The archival footage isn't just used as filler; it’s woven into the contemporary interviews so seamlessly that it feels like the past is haunting the present. It actually is.
If you are going to watch, do it when you have time to process. This isn't background noise. It’s a deep, emotional investment into the resilience—and the cruelty—of the human spirit.
Actionable Insights for Viewers and Historians
If you are looking to truly understand the context behind these episodes or are planning a deep study of the period, keep these points in mind:
- Watch in Chronological Order: Unlike some anthology series, the emotional weight of the later episodes depends entirely on seeing the "innocence" lost in the first two.
- Supplement with the Book: There is a companion book by James Bluemel and others that provides even more transcript material that didn't make the final edit. It's invaluable for names and specific dates.
- Acknowledge the Gaps: While the series is comprehensive, it cannot cover every single atrocity. Use it as a starting point to research the specific events mentioned, like the Shankill Road bombing or the events of Bloody Sunday, through primary source archives like CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet).
- Listen to the Silence: Pay attention to what the interviewees don't say. The pauses and the looks away from the camera are often more telling than the dialogue itself.
- Visit the Sites: If you ever find yourself in Northern Ireland, take a Black Taxi tour in Belfast or visit the Museum of Free Derry. Seeing the physical locations mentioned in the episodes—the "peace walls" that still stand—contextualizes the documentary in a way that television simply cannot.
The Troubles weren't just a political disagreement. They were a collective trauma that defined a generation. By watching these episodes, you aren't just consuming media; you are witnessing a communal act of remembering that is essential for any hope of a permanent peace.
