March 2008

Bloody Sunday

Released: 2002

Genre: Drama

Synopsis: A brilliant—though, at times, painful to watch—dramatization of the January 30, 1972, civil rights march in Derry, Northern Ireland, led by activist-politician Ivan Cooper. The march began peacefully, but it ended in a hail of gunfire. In just 10 minutes, 14 civilians lay dead in the streets, shot by members of the 1st Battalion of the British Parachute Regiment; 12 others were wounded. Two more were struck down by British armored personnel carriers. (And the official whitewash virtually on the spot.)

Why it’s one of the best: Written and directed by the innovative filmmaker Paul Greengrass, “Bloody Sunday” is shot in a documentary style, with handheld cameras. It’s all blur and herky-jerky motion, like Vietnam battle footage.

The technique yields a film of compelling immediacy. We feel as if we are all on hand in the Bogside on that awful day, marching alongside Cooper, Bernadette Devlin, Father Edward Daly—and young protestor Gerald Donaghy, who, with so many others, took a fateful wrong turn on a day when the British troops assigned merely to stop the illegal march turned instead, all too easily, to indiscriminate slaughter.

Donaghy died that day, shot in the belly.

Two performances are particularly noteworthy. The Northern Ireland (Coleraine) actor James Nesbitt—if you watch BBC America, you may know him as Murphy of “Murphy’s Law”—turns in the finest performance of his career as Ivan Cooper. Cooper was then a member of the Northern Ireland Parliament who led the ill-fated march.

The film turns on Cooper’s actions on that day—from the morning, when he and others still dared to hope that they might be allowed to march in peace, to the news conference in the aftermath of the massacre in which he warned the British government that its actions had “given the IRA the biggest victory it will ever have. All over this city tonight, young men, boys, will be joining the IRA, and you will reap a whirlwind.” Watch Nesbitt’s face as the names of the dead are read out. You’ll see why he just might be Ireland’s best actor.

The veteran British actor Tim Pigott-Smith plays the cold, pitiless Major General Robert Ford, the British Army’s most senior officer in Derry on the day the Paras ran rampant. He played a similar character, in a way, in the BBC mini-series “The Jewel in the Crown,” about the last days of the British Raj. Pigott-Smith masterfully portrays that odd combination of bloodlessness and bloody-mindedness characteristic of so many British military men, particularly in colonial settings.

As I say, “Bloody Sunday” is not easy going. But if you want to understand and appreciate the history of Northern Ireland and the “Troubles,” this film is indispensible.

The Snapper

Released: 1993

Genre: Comedy

Synopsis: This is a story about babies, alcohol, and the connection between the two.

“The Snapper” is based on the second installment of Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown trilogy. (We’ve already talked about the first movie: “The Commitments.” The third, “The Van,” has its moments and, although accomplished, ultimately collapses under its own weight.)

For my money, “The Snapper”—that’s the Dublin slang term for “baby”—is the best of Doyle’s three stories. It documents the trying but ultimately triumphant pregnancy of Sharon Rabbitte (Sharon Corley, in the film). The central question is: “Who’s the Da?” (Or, as the residents of Doyle’s fictional Barrytown might put it: “Who’re yis havin’ it for?”)

The prime suspect is revealed to readers early on—but to Sharon’s family and friends, his identity is veiled in mystery. (Was it really, as Sharon coyly suggests, a Spanish sailor?) Sharon was flying high at the moment of conception, but she was just barely sober enough to remember who did the deed. And it was no Spanish sailor.

Of course, a secret like this one is too big and embarrassing to keep. It’s only after Sharon’s father, the irascible Jimmy, gets wind of a bit of barroom braggadoccio—Sharon, evidently, being reported as “a great little ride”—that the answer is revealed to all of Barrytown. And, as they say in the movies, hilarity ensues.

Why it’s one of the best: First, it’s a Roddy Doyle story. It would be hard to make a better start. All the characters are engaging. Even minor characters, like Jimmy’s pals, the barflies Bertie and Bimbo, are fully realized. At the center of it all is the relationship between Jimmy and Sharon. Let’s just say it’s complicated, but it is clear that this daddy-daughter bond is unbreakable—even when Sharon’s great secret is revealed, to Jimmy’s everlasting horror.

The dialogue, as is always the case with a Roddy Doyle yarn, is spot on. It’s salty, peppery, and any other kind of spicy seasoning you care to add. Most of what turns up in the book survives, mostly intact, in Doyle’s screenplay.

The cast is first-rate. The ubiquitous Colm Meaney plays Jimmy; the role of Sharon is played by Tina Kellegher, who would go on to play the part of Niamh Egan in the BBC Northern Ireland series Ballykissangel. The brilliant Ruth McCabe plays Jimmy’s long-suffering spouse Kay. All of the kids—and there are many—are well cast.

But of course, the story revolves around Sharon, and Kelleher shows herself more than equal to the task of slipping into Sharon’s skin. She’s a tough kid, this Sharon, and she accepts her fate with grace and ballsy good humor. She has moments of doubt—but doubt, so often described as “nagging,” never really gains a foothold here.

Finally, there is the masterful direction of Stephen Frears (“The Queen,” “Dangerous Liaisons,” “My Beautiful Launderette”) who mostly tries not to get in the way of great material and talented actors. Frears keeps the whole enterprise moving along at a fast clip, and he never descends into gross Hollywood sentimentality.

Oh yes … and you’ll love the theme music in the opening and closing credits. Elvis, wherever you are (and I’m pretty sure I saw him working in one of the toll booths at the Ben Franklin Bridge), eat your heart out.