Release Date: March 19, 2004
Starring: Cillian Murphy, Kelly Macdonald, Colin Farrell, Brian F. O'Byrne, Michael McElhatton, Colm Meaney, Tomas O'Suilleabhain, Owen Roe, Taylor Molloy
Directed by: John Crowley
Written by: Mark O'Rowe
Distributed by: IFC Films
MPAA Rating: R (pervasive language, some sexual content, violence)
In college I had a roommate who was studying European politics, and he used to describe Ireland as the unfortunate little brother of the European Union. If you want to see what he means, compare Intermission, a greasy, pugnacious, and very watchable Dublin-set ensemble movie directed by John Crowley and written by Mark O’Rowe, to Love Actually, another ensemble film set in the upscale neighborhoods of London.
The one character in Intermission who would fit into the cast of Love Actually, a well dressed bank manager named Sam (Michael McElhatton), is turned into a joke here -- he’s a peevish wimp who wears suits and pink ties and struts around a city populated by workers, thieves, dead-enders, and corrupt cops.
Crowley and O’Rowe somehow manage to fashion a love story out of this mix, though it has the pulpy, implausible feel that you get when you write an ensemble piece with a dozen characters who all know each other. It goes like this: Working stiff John (Cillian Murphy) used to go out with Deirdre (Kelly Macdonald), but dumped her because he was restless. Deirdre, in the meantime, has started going out with Sam, who left his wife to date her. John really wants Deirdre back, though, and when his pals -- a small-time criminal named Lehiff (Colin Farrell) and a bus driver named Mick (Brian F. O’Byrne) -- present him with a plan to rob Sam’s bank, he sees his chance.
Yes, Intermission is the sort of movie where a guy will find an opportunity to win back his ex-girlfriend as part of a bank robbery, a tribute of sorts to all kinds of working-class fantasies: Robbing banks and getting the girl. Kicking back at the pub with a pint of Guinness. And of course, sticking it to the man: John eventually tells his boss, the domineering Mr. Henderson (Owen Roe, who has a fun time spouting Americanisms), to shove it; and another character, a documentary filmmaker named Ben (Tomas O’Suilleabhain), fantasizes about doing the same.
But it culminates with scenes that are more serious, and give the movie a necessary bit of ballast on the back end. Ben, who is looking to do something darker than puff pieces, tags along with the mean-spirited police detective Jerry (Colm Meaney) as he roughs up the local hoodlums. What Jerry really wants, though, is to nab Lehiff, and the two inevitably work their way to a showdown. Likewise for Mick and a small neighborhood boy (Taylor Molloy) who has a vicious habit of throwing rocks at passing vehicles. You can have fun with this movie, but you will also take it seriously.
Intermission is well cast and well acted throughout. Better still, the actors have a sense of their place in it. Farrell is the biggest star, but he hardly seems like it; he could be a bit player. Murphy, on the other hand, is steady as John, arguably the film’s lead, and he is matched by Macdonald as Deirdre, the girl who once loved him and may do so again.
If this were a movie like Love Actually, you could say for certain that John and Deirdre would wind up together at the end. But it’s not that kind of film, and you can’t say for sure. A distinctly Irish sense of imminent disaster hangs over every scene, as though the characters have been conditioned by their national history to expect the worst.
While things don’t always turn out that bad, they don’t always turn out that good, either. Like the scene when John tells off Mr. Henderson: He celebrates by jumping up on the checkout counter -- and then slips on a can of beans and tumbles to the floor. Part of the fun is watching the movie’s twisted sense of justice to make itself known.
There are only a few other places in the world besides Dublin where Intermission could have been set. It does have a lot of universal themes, true, but it also begins with a café robbery and ends with a wheelchair race between two drunken pubgoers. This is story is pure Irish, and if this is what it means to be Europe’s unfortunate younger brother, then you get the feeling that’s alright by them.
-- Craig Roush (craigroush@hotmail.com)