Michael Collins (1996)

The best bit in Neil Jordan's quasi-hagiographic Michael Collins is the final scene: a black and white coda featuring archival footage of the real Collins' funeral. This is, sadly, one of the rare moments when the film really hits its stride: what with the transcendental, thrusting bombastery underlain with leaping violins... well, it's all very transcendental, mystical and Neil Jordany. That is, bordering on the fantastical, while still deeply relevant to gritty reality. Is that a PPCC tear? Yes. Yes, it is.

Unfortunately, the rest of the film isn't quite so consistent. Director Jordan traffics in a very special, wonderful kind of weirdness: his films often feature gender-bending sexuality, coupled with Irish Troubles and a dash of the surreal. In Michael Collins, Jordan tones it down - or tries to, anyway - in telling a relatively straightforward biography of early freedom fighter, "Minister of General Mayhem" Michael Collins (played by a vivacious Liam Neeson). The problem is, we think, that Jordan can't quite keep his natural tendency to weirdness in place, and so the film is a jagged mess of episodic, clunky narrative and awkward shifts in tone. One moment, we're in a giggling, carefree love triangle between Michael, his best friend Harry Boland (Aidan Quinn), and the one-dimensional "Irish rose" Kitty (Julia Roberts, in an accent that comes and goes). The next moment, Michael is instructing his foot soldiers on which arsenals to set fire to, and which British collaborators to shoot in the head.

It's all a bit jarring, and it never quite comes together. The film begins with the 1916 Easter Rising, and we're quickly introduced to Michael, Harry and the whole band of Irish Republicans. The most notable of which is Eamon De Valera (Alan Rickman, not really doing the accent), President of the Irish Republic and a character who appears and disappears to America and then appears again, only to ruin everything by complaining too loudly about the Irish Free State. Okay, maybe Ebert was right and this movie isn't terribly balanced (or even informative) regarding the bloodshed that followed the Anglo-Irish Treaty. The relatively ignorant PPCC certainly didn't exactly follow why De Valera was in such a stitch. And that sort of undermines the tragedy of it all. Trying to make the love triangle become a parallel for these state-level schisms also just felt... weird.

Furthermore, we lost a bit of faith in this film's balance since Michael Collins, as played by Neeson, seemed so superheroic, so larger than life. He has brio and panache and a kind of Gerard Depardieu-as-Porthos joie de vivre. Everyone worships him, Kitty goes glassy-eyed when she sees him, and he seems ballsy and noble and true. That's fine. Okay. But what was he really like? Moments of a rounded personality, or even just a dash of doubt, would have been more effective in fleshing Collins' out. Especially since his work, being so violent, carries a sinister quality - some darkness, or at least more seriousness (!), would have been merited. 

As it stands, the film is diverting, but almost cartoonish. When comparing it to Ken Loach's stern, stately The Wind That Shakes the Barley (a film about the same period), it inevitably comes up short. Sorry, Mr. Jordan! We love you, otherwise!

Breakfast on Pluto (2005)

The best thing about Neil Jordan's whimsical Breakfast on Pluto is that it refuses to be a victim. For a story that could have been all about victimization - we follow the exploits of a poor, orphaned, transgender Irish kid during the worst of the 1970s Troubles - it steers entirely clear of self-pity. Because our hero/heroine, Patrick "Kitten" Braden (Cillian Murphy), is relentlessly upbeat. She doesn't seem to believe in holding grudges or letting the ignorance and oppression of her surroundings hold her down. As Kitten often exclaims in the face of terrifying circumstances, "Oh, all of a sudden, everybody's getting serious! Serious, serious, serious!"

The next best thing about Breakfast on Pluto is how funny it is. Once again, this isn't the barbed humor of the gallows. Rather, it's heart-warming, humanistic and humane. On the DVD extras, Irish actor Stephen Rea describes the mood as particularly "Irish" - that is, there's an air of irreverent, bizarre, quasi-postmodern quasi-magic(al) realism. Robins that speak in subtitles. Roses that rise out of tea cups. Chapter titles ("My tights! They're in ribbons!"). It can, depending on how traditional you like your narrative, be pretty alienating. But for the PPCC - lover of postmodern magic(al) realism and wackiness - our disbelief remained suspended and we gobbled it all up.

The story follows a loose, biographical structure around the various adventures of Patrick "Kitten" Braden (Cillian Murphy), who is abandoned on the doorstep of the local priest (Liam Neeson) in a nameless Irish village one day. As Kitten grows up, it becomes clear that "he" really identifies much more with "she" - and she revels in fashion shows and hilariously provocative jokes, much to the chagrin of the conservative adults around her. All Kitten knows about her parents are that (1) her father was the priest himself and (2) her mother was a beautiful Mitzi Gaynor lookalike who had long ago abandoned Ireland in favor of the "city that never sleeps", London. The wide-eyed, loving, desperately affectionate Kitten quickly flees her stifling village for London - along the way falling in love with a revolutionary glam rocker (Gavin Friday), befriending a belligerent womble (Brendan Gleeson) and some mystic Druid-inspired bikers, becoming the beloved of Bertie the magician (Stephen Rea, in a bizarre RP accent), saving her friend Charlie (Ruth Negga) but losing her friend Irwin (Laurence Kinlan), and all the while pursuing her mother, the "Phantom Lady".

The film shares several similarities with director Neil Jordan's other work. In particular, its themes of fluid sexuality and the Irish Troubles are very resonant of his most famous film, The Crying Game. Meanwhile, its surreal aesthetic is very much like The Butcher Boy, except this time, the mood is light and forgiving (rather than gruesome and grotesquely scathing).

Our thoughts: we liked this a lot. The aesthetic was right up our alley (and OMG, Kitten's fashion was FAAAABulous), the story was touching and engaging, and the performances were good. Cillian Murphy was very impressive as the optimistic yet occasionally vulnerable Kitten, and we just loved the young actor playing the preteen version, Conor McEvoy. Ruth Negga was charismatic and gorgeous as Kitten's longtime friend and Liam Neeson played his role with a touching air of weary tragedy (which juxtaposed nicely against his upbeat, cartoon-like behavior in one wacky fantasy sequence!). Brendan Gleeson and Stephen Rea are two of our favorite Irish actors, but we were disappointed in Stephen Rea - at least, what was with the exaggerated London accent? But that's our only tiny arbitrary criticism, and we can't really complain. This was great.

Fun, trippy, refreshing - like T.Rex, if T.Rex was a film and not a band. And we love T.Rex! (And so do Rishi Kapoor and Rakhee apparently!)