Review of The Wind That Shakes the Barley (2006) by Arthur S — 28 Jun 2008

SELDOM has a group of men arguing about politics felt so electric and urgent as it does here.

English director Ken Loach is famous for his ideologically charged films. In this period piece set during the bloody war of independence waged by the Irish against the mighty British empire in the 1920s, politics is not so much academic discussons by men in suits as a very real battle to improve the conditions of the poor and the downtrodden.

The story centres on two brothers - Damien (Cillian Murphy) and Teddy (Padraic Delaney).

Older brother Teddy is the passionate but pragmatic soldier-turned-politician. Damien is initially reluctant to join the fight, but an innate sense of justice drives him to abandon a promising future as a doctor to be a guerilla fighter.

It is evident where Loach's sympathies lie. Along with long-time collaborator, screenwriter Paul Laverty, Loach paints a stark portrait of the brutality of the Black and Tans, the British irregulars who exercise their power with casual callousness.

Their easy doling out of physical punishments, the adult version of vicious schoolyard bullying, convinces Damien that repaying savagery with savagery is the way to go.

But that is a slippery slope, as he discovers, when the fight against the British turns into civil strife after the controversial Anglo-Irish treaty is signed.

The treaty established an Irish free state which nonetheless remained a British dominion. This caused an ideological split between the Irish who believed the political compromise was the way to go and those who thought complete independence was the only acceptable outcome.

What looks like a very small film about a very specific historical episode takes on universal resonances thanks to Laverty's intelligent script, Loach's understated direction and a raft of beautiful performances from a sterling ensemble cast.

The film, which won the coveted Golden Palm at last year's Cannes film festival, has moments which border on genre cliches.

The Black and Tans attack innocent civilians and torture prisoners in scenes reminiscent of Nazi villainy in a dozen World War II films. But Loach, aided by cinematographer Barry Ackroyd's Vermeer-like compositions and lighting, reins in the melodrama with understatement.

And he draws superb performances from his cast. Murphy's pale blue eyes are liquidly expressive, shading from youthful idealism to an almost fanatic martyrdom.

Another stand-out is Liam Cunningham, who looks like a more youthful version of French actor Jean Reno, as Dan, a train driver-turned-political activist.

Those actors help convey the immediacy of people who are fighting for not just a political cause but also the very real purpose of alleviating suffering. The lack of a happy ending - instead of independence, there is civil war - is a vivid warning for idealists and martyrs alike that conviction can divide as well as unite people.

This film yields a rich harvest for those looking for a more thought-provoking offering this blockbuster season.