The semblance, the illusion, the mere shell of an historical-biographical-hagiographic epic, in a revolutionary vein that stretches, and twists, from Braveheart through Gandhi through Spartacus (just missing Che en route) through Viva Zapata through Juarez and through Abel Gance's Napoleon. A project, we have been assured, dear to the Celtic heart of director Neil Jordan, and certainly he wears that heart on his sleeve in the clumsy climactic cross-cutting between the fatal ambush of the rebel hero (1890-1922) and the bridal-gown shopping of his betrothed. Plenty of atmosphere, whether or not the frosted, ashen, anemic lighting effects can succeed in conjuring up the specific atmosphere of Ireland. Plenty of length, too, if not quite epical length, although the storytelling seems curiously abrupt, curt, choppy, in its furious succession of shootings, knifings, bombings, raids, arrests, getaways, etc. (Liam Neeson carries the rhythm into his Mad Hatter interpretation of the protagonist.) And the dialogue seems curiously short-winded, notwithstanding the straight-out speechifying in political rallies, pep talks, strategy sessions, and parliamentary proceedings. The presumed camaraderie between Mick and Harry (Aidan Quinn), unsurprisingly sundered by civil war, is grievously underwritten, though no less than their romantic rivalry over the hand of one and the same woman. Maybe the casting of Julia Roberts was felt to make words unnecessary. Or unadvisable. (1996) — Duncan Shepherd
This movie is not currently in theaters.