Post by Natasha on Apr 4, 2004 16:42:57 GMT -5
San Francisco Chronicle - Friday, March 26, 2004
sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/reviews/movies/INTERMISSION.DTL
The title of the dazzling Irish film "Intermission'' refers to a time-out called by a restless boyfriend who feels stuck in a relationship. His wanderlust has a domino effect. Soon various people, led by the jilted girlfriend, are falling into bed with partners they might otherwise never have met, let alone slept with. Some mistake their lust for love; others can't be bothered deluding themselves.
If this plot sounds familiar, let me assure you, "Intermission'' is a breed apart from anything coming off the Hollywood assembly line or, for that matter, from the saccharine romances Britain has lately produced starring the overly adorable Hugh Grant. Knowing how much the Irish enjoy sticking it to their neighboring Brits, you could conjecture that this is deliberate -- that luminaries of the Irish film community actually set out to make the anti- "Love Actually.''
Whether intended or not, "Intermission'' is a painfully raw examination of the power of love to build up those under its spell -- in this case, a group of working-class Dubliners -- and to tear them apart. It's a roller- coaster ride up and down life's bumpy track. The movie is often unsettling -- random acts of violence outnumber those of kindness. But it's also touching, startlingly original and even profound. How many cinema experiences can you say that about?
Far from coy, "Intermission'' announces its intention to jolt the audience in the opening scene. Colin Farrell -- the best known, though not the best of the movie's extraordinary ensemble cast -- sweet-talks a store clerk with pure blarney about how he might be the man of her dreams. "On the other hand,'' Farrell says with the thick Irish brogue he's held in check in Hollywood movies, "I could be some villain just waiting for a chance to smack your jaw.'' With that, he socks her hard and runs off with the contents of the cash register.
Farrell, in full skinhead mode, is menacing as Lehiff (the characters' names seem lifted from James Joyce), a petty crook who later beats up Deirdre (Kelly Macdonald), the girlfriend left out in the cold by John (Cillian Murphy). Lehiff's actions are deeply disturbing, but other roughhousing is -- dare I say -- amusing. The distraught wife of John's replacement in Deirdre's bed attempts to build up her self-esteem by seducing a younger man. The wife (played with a saucy sense of entitlement by Deirdre O'Kane) becomes feisty during their lovemaking, or, as she calls it, "sporting.'' Her partner doesn't mind the scratches down his back -- indeed he proudly shows them off -- but when she punches him in the face, he's had enough.
Director John Crowley, working from Mark O'Rowe's rich screenplay, tells multiple stories while keeping the focus on John and Deirdre. They're split up in the movie, yet you can see what they were like as a couple, the ways their personalities meshed and where they got into trouble. The two are brought to life by Murphy and Macdonald, charming actors who deserve to be better known in this country. They make you care about John and Deirdre and want the best for them, even when they don't seem to know what that is.
The ancillary characters are so special that they deserve their own movies. There's the blustery cop Jerry (played with puffed-up importance by the great Colm Meaney), who thinks it only fitting when he's asked to be the subject of a TV show. My favorite is Deirdre's wounded sister, Sally (Shirley Henderson, in another of the film's pitch-perfect performances), who has eschewed personal grooming since her beau dumped her in an unusually cruel fashion and who now sports a discernable moustache. Allusions to Burt Reynolds are made. We know Sally has met Mr. Right because he's the only one who doesn't seem to notice the shadow falling over her mouth.
- by Ruthe Stein
sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/reviews/movies/INTERMISSION.DTL
The title of the dazzling Irish film "Intermission'' refers to a time-out called by a restless boyfriend who feels stuck in a relationship. His wanderlust has a domino effect. Soon various people, led by the jilted girlfriend, are falling into bed with partners they might otherwise never have met, let alone slept with. Some mistake their lust for love; others can't be bothered deluding themselves.
If this plot sounds familiar, let me assure you, "Intermission'' is a breed apart from anything coming off the Hollywood assembly line or, for that matter, from the saccharine romances Britain has lately produced starring the overly adorable Hugh Grant. Knowing how much the Irish enjoy sticking it to their neighboring Brits, you could conjecture that this is deliberate -- that luminaries of the Irish film community actually set out to make the anti- "Love Actually.''
Whether intended or not, "Intermission'' is a painfully raw examination of the power of love to build up those under its spell -- in this case, a group of working-class Dubliners -- and to tear them apart. It's a roller- coaster ride up and down life's bumpy track. The movie is often unsettling -- random acts of violence outnumber those of kindness. But it's also touching, startlingly original and even profound. How many cinema experiences can you say that about?
Far from coy, "Intermission'' announces its intention to jolt the audience in the opening scene. Colin Farrell -- the best known, though not the best of the movie's extraordinary ensemble cast -- sweet-talks a store clerk with pure blarney about how he might be the man of her dreams. "On the other hand,'' Farrell says with the thick Irish brogue he's held in check in Hollywood movies, "I could be some villain just waiting for a chance to smack your jaw.'' With that, he socks her hard and runs off with the contents of the cash register.
Farrell, in full skinhead mode, is menacing as Lehiff (the characters' names seem lifted from James Joyce), a petty crook who later beats up Deirdre (Kelly Macdonald), the girlfriend left out in the cold by John (Cillian Murphy). Lehiff's actions are deeply disturbing, but other roughhousing is -- dare I say -- amusing. The distraught wife of John's replacement in Deirdre's bed attempts to build up her self-esteem by seducing a younger man. The wife (played with a saucy sense of entitlement by Deirdre O'Kane) becomes feisty during their lovemaking, or, as she calls it, "sporting.'' Her partner doesn't mind the scratches down his back -- indeed he proudly shows them off -- but when she punches him in the face, he's had enough.
Director John Crowley, working from Mark O'Rowe's rich screenplay, tells multiple stories while keeping the focus on John and Deirdre. They're split up in the movie, yet you can see what they were like as a couple, the ways their personalities meshed and where they got into trouble. The two are brought to life by Murphy and Macdonald, charming actors who deserve to be better known in this country. They make you care about John and Deirdre and want the best for them, even when they don't seem to know what that is.
The ancillary characters are so special that they deserve their own movies. There's the blustery cop Jerry (played with puffed-up importance by the great Colm Meaney), who thinks it only fitting when he's asked to be the subject of a TV show. My favorite is Deirdre's wounded sister, Sally (Shirley Henderson, in another of the film's pitch-perfect performances), who has eschewed personal grooming since her beau dumped her in an unusually cruel fashion and who now sports a discernable moustache. Allusions to Burt Reynolds are made. We know Sally has met Mr. Right because he's the only one who doesn't seem to notice the shadow falling over her mouth.
- by Ruthe Stein
