Forever Is Now review: Eamon Ryan documentary plays like The Thick of It with morals

By Daniel Okafor

Forever Is Now paints Eamon Ryan as one of the good guys. The fly-on-the-wall documentary follows the former Irish Green party leader through his final 18 months as minister for the environment and transport, before he stepped down from Ireland's coalition government in 2025.

The film, reviewed by the Guardian, invites an obvious comparison. It reminded the reviewer of the political satire The Thick of It — but without the cynical gags and hapless self-serving politicians. That's quite a compliment in modern politics.

Even after you factor in the skewing effect of a favourable portrait, Ryan comes across as principled, likable and extremely hard working. A documentary filmed while its subject sits in cabinet is hardly neutral territory. This one doesn't pretend to be. It shows him in the best possible light, and the reviewer concedes the point anyway.

What does the title mean?

The film takes its name from a phrase repeated by Ryan's 25-year-old son, Tommy. "Forever … forever … forever." Tommy is autistic and requires full-time care.

When Ryan resigns from government, one of his stated reasons is to spend more time with Tommy. We see the pair picking raspberries at the allotment and walking the dog. It's a small window, deliberately framed.

Beyond a quick glimpse of his wife, Victoria, the rest of Ryan's family life stays firmly behind closed doors. The film gives us the politician at work and the father in fragments, and clearly prefers the former.

Does the warmth undermine the film?

Somewhat, yes. A portrait this glowing invites questions about access and control. But the reviewer's verdict is clear: even discounted for generosity, the substance holds. Ryan reads as decent in a genre that rarely rewards decency.

The comparison to The Thick of It does the heavy lifting here. Armando Iannucci's satire assumed self-interest as the default setting of government. A documentary that survives that frame — ministers who work hard, mean it and go home to pick raspberries — is the rarer thing.

Ryan resigned in 2025, ending a stint in Ireland's coalition government that the film chronicles through its final year and a half. His party's fortunes since are another story, one this film chooses not to tell.

For viewers, the question the film leaves open is whether principled politics can outlast the access that flatters it. Forever Is Now doesn't answer that. It just repeats it, forever.