‘To me the Irish are not the criminals Trump talks about’

The Undocumented (RTÉ One, Monday, 9.35pm) opens with the bombastic braggadocio of Donald Trump on the campaign trail. Audio clips of his barbed rhetoric on illegal immigration boom off the towering structures of New York City as the camera silently sleeks around Gotham. The now-US president can't return to his hometown these days without expecting a hostile reception. He might love New York but it doesn't love him back.

This polished, intimate documentary looks to drill into the lives of Ireland's undocumented now that the spectre of Trump hangs over their lives like the shadow of a skyscraper. He did, after all, make kicking immigrants out of the country one of the concrete pillars of his campaign. But The Undocumented inadvertently depicts the relative ease in which these communities exist in the heavily liberal city.

“Racism is the big issue here. Very much so aimed at the Hispanic community,” says David, a four-year undocumented Irishman deemed by friends as “different” to those who hail from south of Trump’s proposed wall.

"To me, the Irish are not the criminals [Trump] talks about," says Clive Anderson, a funeral home owner who was granted a green card after 11 years living in the US. "The Irish are hardworking people. And I think that what he's trying to do is he's trying to get rid of the criminals, which I think to be honest is a good thing."

To quote David Mitchell’s Nazi grunt: “Are we the baddies?”

Widescreen panorama

Shuffling through various voices, The Undocumented seeks to present a broad depiction of those Irish men – but no women, oddly – living off New York's mainstream grid with no filters or Broadway pizzazz. Some are fresh off the boat; others are decades deep. For many, the American Dream was the hook: bright lights, big city living and promises of prosperity.

Often keeping them there is a perceived lack of career opportunities in Ireland for a person currently raking in a mattress-load of dollars from bartending or carpentry. Then there’s the fear of returning to the land they let go of years earlier. “I’m nervous to go back,” admits Niall, eight years undocumented.

Back home, there are those who have little sympathy for the plight of people who have blatantly violated US law. As many featured in the programme opted to enter the country fully intending to outstay their visas, the filmmakers could have pressed a little harder on their claims to residency.

Instead, the lack of fairness in a system that allows them to pay thousands in taxes without having the freedom to set up a bank account is highlighted. There's the strain on their relationships with family members back home, and the day-to-day stress of living with the possibility of a customs official knocking at the door. Paying lip service to these issues, The Undocumented raises eyebrows, but it hardly presses home any new truths.

It’s less the legalities of the stories that compel, and more the humanity. Originally drawn to the US, he says, to play Gaelic football for the New York team, David starkly speaks about how his life spiraled into alcohol, gambling, loneliness and lengthy stretches out of touch with family members. Now in recovery, what keeps him skulking the sidewalks of New York remains blurry. It might not be clear even to him.