Irish Reels Film Festival: Irish Film THE BIG LIE What is an Irish movie? Something that expresses not so much our primordial uniqueness, but simply the experience of those who call themselves 'Irish', says Harvey O'Brien When Neil Jordan's Angel premiered at the Cork Film Festival in 1982, all hell broke loose. Accusations flew about how an inexperienced director with only a few short stories and scripts to his name was given such vast amounts of money by the newly-formed Irish Film Board for a film which was mainly produced with money from a British television station (Channel Four). Just what was an Irish film anyway, and who was this Jordan character? In 1993 an Oscar night party was held at the Irish Film Centre celebrating the success of The Crying Game and hailing the rebirth of the lost lamented Film Board at this moment of new triumph for an indigenous Irish cinema. The film was partly financed by British Screen, Channel Four and by a Japanese development and finance company. The notion of film as an expression of national cultural identity is a relatively new thing. Yes, the avant-garde film makers active in various countries during the early years produced films which could collectively be thought of as 'German' (expressionism), 'French' (impressionism), and 'Soviet' (montage), but only the latter felt their style to be an agreed national aesthetic, and then not for very long. In Ireland the debate about what is an 'Irish' film has been going on for quite some time, inspired largely by the growth of European arthouse cinema in the 1950s and 60s, and it seems that every time it comes up there is very little said that has not been heard before. Questions are asked of Irish cinema: that it might provide evidence of a primordial uniqueness that will distinguish Ireland from the transatlantic morass. Qualities are sought in Irish films or in the work of Irish directors, writers, and performers which will somehow give films made in Ireland by Irish people about Irish subjects an indefinable/e ne sais quoi (or should I say nithuigim cade) which will elevate them to the levels of distinction on a world scale still reserved for poetry and literature (and it must be world scale: greatness must be acknowledged). In asking what is an Irish film, we can't afford to be precious about nomenclature. We need to understand certain realities about the movie business. When we look down our collective noses at Hollywood films, do we stop to qualify what degree of 'American-ness' they represent? Do we pick apart their financial background and argue that if the Sony corporation owns Columbia TriStar pictures, all films produced by that studio during their tenure must be Japanese? Do the Taiwanese intend to appropriate Hulk psychically because it is directed by Ang Lee? Do we try to make arguments that the essential qualities of Hollywood films somehow represent the American psyche? Unfortunately, in this last case, we do; but in doing so, do we ever stop to think that the basic forms of narrative storytelling used by 'Hollywood' were around for thousands of years before Hollywood even existed? Film is certainly an art, but what is the nature of that art, and what do the products of that art form have to say which makes them particular to individual locations or national cultures? If we think of film as story, should the question be asked: "What is an Irish story?" On this level, perhaps 'Irish' films are ones which take place in Ireland, or should it be that the story must 'say" something 'about' Ireland to be 'Irish' in itself? This would be fair enough, except that on reviewing the history of Irish cinema, there are all too many stories of landlords and leprechauns for the full range of Irish experience to be incorporated by such narrow frames of reference. We could dismiss Darby O'Gill and the Little People as foreign-made trash and hail Tommy McArdle's The Kinkisha as striking indigenous revisionism, but we could talk about them both as stories of atavism and rural superstition without batting an eyelid as we moved from one to the other. What about storytelling? Is there an inherently Irish style of storytelling rooted in an oral tradition? Maybe. It would certainly explain the popularity of Conor McPherson, who rose from writing theatrical monologues to film scripts which transcribed a fascination with language and character where 'story' is an afterthought to the evocation of the moment. But it leaves us with films like Saltwater, where the characters basically sit around and talk, which, to be fair, isn't especially 'cinematic', at least not if cinema is different from theatre, television, or talking in the pub. Is that even the issue? Is being precious about terms like 'cinema' getting away from the purpose of art? What is the 'mission' of Irish cinema? Is it supposed to represent Irish life on the big screen in a way which gels with lived experience? Where, then, do we fall between About Adam and Crushproof, which Ireland is more real to you? And what then of Northern Ireland, or should we not even go there (figuratively or literally)? Have we seen enough of Romeo and Juliet meets A Nation Once Again? The fact is that Irish cinema is the experience of cinema for those who call themselves 'Irish". As the frames of reference for the latter category continue to change, so too will the taste for, reaction to, and need for 'Irish' movies. The question should never really be "What is an Irish movie?" but more "What is an Irish movie right now?' On those terms, all we need to do is look around us and see, then take some time after to listen to what we feel. Dr Harvey O'Brien teaches film studies at UCD and on NYU's Tisch School of the Arts Dublin Programme. His book 'The Real Ireland', on documentary film-making in Ireland, will be published next year. Reprinted with kind permission from the author and the Irish Independent Life magazine (31 August 2003)