A Troubled Lens? Analysis of cinematic representations of the “Troubles” in post 1998 Northern Irish, English and Irish films.

A Troubled Lens?

Analysis of cinematic representations of the

“Troubles” in post 1998 Northern Irish, English

and Irish films.

MA Thesis in European Studies

Graduate School for Humanities

Universiteit van Amsterdam

Isabel Pugh-Cook

12047287

Main Supervisor: Dr Alex Drace-Francis

Second Supervisor: Dr Guido Snel

Completed: 1 July 2019

Word Count: 22,911

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Acknowledgements

Sincere and grateful thanks is given to Dr Alex Drace-Francis whose attentive

and meticulous comments and guidance have been invaluable, and to Dr Guido

Snel in his role as secondary marker.

Heartfelt appreciation is also given to my parents for their support and

encouragement in this endeavour, as with all others; and to beloved friends for

always providing crucial moments of humour and distraction from an oftentimes

intense topic of research.

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Contents

1.

Introduction

2.

Understanding Irish and Northern Irish Cinema, and

Cinematic Theory

- 2.1 An Introduction to Irish and Northern Irish Cinema 13

- 2.2 Postcolonialism and Irish Cinema 19

- 2.3 History in Film 23

- 2.4 Auteur Theory 27

3.

The Chosen Films: Synopsises and Critical Reception

- 3.1 Silent Grace (Murphy, 2001) 28

- 3.2 Bloody Sunday (Greengrass, 2002) 31

- 3.3 Mickybo and Me (Loane, 2004) 36

4.

Representations of Violence

5.

Representations of Gender and Family

6.

Representations of Landscape and Religion

7.

Conclusion

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Abstract

According to cinematic theory advanced by Pierre Sorlin (1980),

historical films are most reflective of the time in which they were

created. With this understanding, academics of Irish and Northern

Irish cinema predicted that the period following the signing of the

Good Friday Agreement in April 1998 would produce an array of more

nuanced films about the euphemistically entitled “Troubles”, a

devastating thirty-year period of sectarian military and paramilitary

conflict. Previously released films about the Troubles were saturated

with stereotypical tropes, images and characterisations of the

Northern Irish people and region; Peace Process films (so called to

reflect the then socio-political climate), were expected to advance

cinematic representations with greater understanding and pedagogy

of the conflict’s intricacy. Furthermore, through application of

auteurship theory, the national or personal biases of a film’s auteur

can be accounted for and the genuine cinematic progression of a

genre be assessed.

This paper argues that despite rational predictions made of Peace

Process cinema, films about the Troubles and released after 1998,

including those written and directed by indigenous filmmakers, have

failed to transcend the archetypal, postcolonial-influenced

stereotypes of the genre, and instead adhered to and exacerbated

gendered, nationalist, sectarian and environmental tropes to a

staggering degree.

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1. Introduction

The euphemistically entitled “Troubles” were a period of intense paramilitary and military conflicts in Northern Ireland, officially from 1968 until the momentous signing of the peace treaty, known as the Good Friday or Belfast Agreement, in April 1998. Ostensibly between the Catholic Republicans and their demand for a united Ireland, and the majority Protestant population who (mostly) self-identify as British and Loyalists and determined to keep the six counties of Ulster a part of the United Kingdom1_{. The divisions between the communities are}

deep-rooted and based on ethno-nationalist perceptions of the appropriate future for the northern Irish peoples, an argument which has raged since the initial separation of the island in the 1920s with the Irish Free State; as McKittrick and McVea (2002:4) declare “Northern Ireland was born in violence”. Importantly, despite the grouping of the riven sides into ‘Catholic’ and ‘Protestant’, these titles delineate multiple identifications, not just religious: indeed, the Troubles were not a religious conflict. The terms ‘Protestant’ and ‘Catholic’ additionally indicate the long-standing political, cultural, historic and socio-economic differences, or perceived differences, between the tribal groupings. These labels are thus used in this vein throughout this paper.2

Over 3,500 people died during the thirty-year conflict, including 1,840 civilians, with over 47,500 people injured, and between 45,000 and 60,000 displaced or forced to flee their homes (McKittrick and McVea,2002; Bosi and De Fazio, 2017;Browne,2019); people from all sides – and none – of the devastating dispute felt its impact, far beyond those actively involved in the ethno-nationalist fighting or from the British security services. Bosi and De Fazio (2017:11) declare the conflict “one of the most lethal episodes of contention in post-war Western Europe”. Some of the most high-profile incidents include the horrific events of Bloody Sunday, where unarmed civilians were shot at by British army forces on 30th _January

1 _{Extensive literature is available on this subject; the information listed here has particularly been}

taken from the work of McKittrick and McVea (2002). McKittrick, D. and McVea, D., 2002. Making

Sense of the Troubles: The Story of the Conflict in Northern Ireland. 1st ed. New Amsterdam Books.

2 _{This explanation draws inspiration from that given by Brian McIlroy (2001: 8). McIlroy, B., 2001.}

Shooting to Kill: Filmmaking and the ‘Troubles’ in Northern Ireland. 2nd edition. Richmond, B.C:

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1972, resulting in fourteen deaths, and constituting a key turning point in the conflict, as well as the 1980-1 hunger strikes by Irish Republican prisoners in demand for political status, which saw the death of ten men.

Northern Ireland is unlikely to ever be totally free of the ethno-nationalist conflict it has become so synonymous with3_{. Nonetheless, the historic Good Friday Agreement, signed on}

10th _{April 1998 and endorsed by popular agreement in referendums held both sides of the}

Irish border on 22nd _{May, was pivotal in establishing a peaceful stability within the divided}

community, with mutual respect and recognition at least partially achieved (Bartlett,2010; Humphreys,2018). This was particularly true in areas of culture, with “parity of esteem” the aim for all symbols, tropes and cultural markers (Humphreys,2018). An unprecedented era of discussion and negotiation between the parties brightened the political, social, economic and cultural landscape of Northern Ireland. It was heavily anticipated that this communicative, optimistic environment post-1998 would shape representations of the Troubles across the cultural spectrum.

Since the start of the conflict, multiple cinematic representations of the Troubles have been produced and released. Some of the most iconic films include Cal (O’Connor,1984), The Crying Game (Jordan,1992), In the Name of the Father (Sheridan,1993), and Some Mother’s Son (George,1996). These films, and the many more not listed here, have covered innumerable narratives of both fictional and non-fictional origin, depicting the experiences of Protestants, Catholics, the British security services and others involved directly or otherwise in the thirty plus years of fighting. All manner of points of view, competing norms and appraisals of the period and region’s events have been cinematised, in attempts to satisfy the international audience’s seemingly insatiable appetite for tales of violence, hardship and heartbreak in this most divided of communities. Nevertheless, most Troubles films released during the conflict, including those listed, fell victim to what scholars such as Barton (2004) and McIlroy (2001)

3 _{This reality is projected by renowned specialists of Ireland and Northern Ireland, including}

McKittrick and McVea (2002) and Bartlett (2010). Bartlett, T., 2010. Ireland: a history. 1st edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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have identified as a mass simplification of the causes and rationale of the conflict; beyond depictions of a total and seemingly inevitable violent sectarian divide, the genuine experiences of the people and places of the Troubles were largely unexplored.

Furthermore, the repeated utilisation of entrenched yet exhausted characterisations and stereotypes of the people, places, culture and society of the island of Ireland reiterated international understanding of the Troubles as vicious and unpleasant, yet unavoidable. As shall be explored, it is appropriate in this analysis to draw on studies of Irish cinema, and the portrayal of the island on screen, including that by Rockett, Gibbons and Hill (1988), Cinema and Ireland; McLoone’s (2000) Irish Film; Pettitt’s (2000) Screening Ireland and Barton’s (2004) Irish National Cinema, as equally representative of Northern Ireland. In this vein, the stereotypical presumption of an inherent – and unresolvable – predilection of the Irish and Northern Irish people, particularly men, to violence is apparent. This is particularly the case in contrast to the supposedly measured and protective existence of the British in the conflict-stricken region. Along with violence, stereotypical gender depictions saturate the screen, with renegade, drunken and often absent fathers consciously compared to mothers and women largely removed from the public sphere and restrained within domestic settings and reduced to their femininity. Further common stereotypes include the emotive power of landscape, with the romantic rural idyll of the Republic of Ireland consciously juxtaposed with the gritty urban existence of the North. In addition, a religious omnipresence saturates most films of both Ireland and specifically the Troubles, apportioning certain (often derogatory) characteristics to Catholic characters, such as large, rambunctious, poor families, in comparison to Protestant characters’ measured, middle class minimalism.

A significant cause for such deep-rooted stereotypes is identified in postcolonialism, a comprehensive theory repeatedly employed throughout this paper, which explores the complex social, historical, political, economic, cultural and psychological relationship between a former colonised nation and its coloniser. In the case of Ireland and relations with Britain, its former colonial power, the influence of this past on its cultural output is most apparent in the case of Northern Ireland: there the Troubles are the embodiment of the

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continued contestation between coloniser and colonised. The works of McLoone (2000), Pettitt (2000) and Merivirta (2013) in exploring the impact of this binding partnership, and how it plays out in films, influence the explanation that stereotypes are intricately linked to a postcolonial existence. This is coupled with the concept of Hollywoodisation, or the internationally imperialist cinematic style of the predominant American film industry, where stereotypes were again used extensively to ensure identifiability and as a means of making comprehensible the relatively unique situation of armed ethno-nationalist conflict in a developed Western democracy (McIlroy,2001). As Hill (1988) identifies, however, such stereotypes often romanticised the Irish island and peoples, predominantly due to the influence of the Irish diaspora in America, meaning that Hollywood-produced films tend to portray the island with nostalgic favour.

Additionally, this paper argues that such specific character or environmental portrayals can to a degree be explained using auteur theory, as identified by Guynn (2006) and Benshoff (2016). This argues that although there are innumerable teams and individuals at work on a film and with a stake in its final appearance, the greatest authorship of the piece still lies with the director, followed by the screenwriter. Consequently, where many of the films produced prior to the 1990s were American or British-led, so the respective nationalities, backgrounds, genders or other personal elements of the directors may have influenced the films’ limited and frequently stereotypical portrayals according to above understandings of postcolonialism in cinema. It must be highlighted however that auteur theory is particularly applied in the case of European-led films; the role of studios and profit-driven entities within the American film industry tend to override individual auteurship (Benshoff,2016).

It is thus appropriate to conclude that films of the Troubles produced and released prior to the late 1990s offer stereotypical, limited perspectives of the conflict, where violence was endemic and peaceful resolution incomprehensible. Along with the rationale already given, this can in part be explained according to Sorlin’s (1980) theory that historical films best reflect the time and environment in which they were created: in this case, bleak, conflict riven, with little prospect of resolution.

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As McIlroy (2001:7) articulates, “film, culture and politics are intertwined in Ireland” to such a degree that film is never purely a cultural piece. Consequently, the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in April 1998, an unquestionably seismic development in the political and social spheres, was expected to be replicated in the cultural; to mirror the terminology of the political environment, films produced and released in the late 1990s and early 2000s were dubbed “Peace Process” films, as noted by renowned Troubles cinema scholars including McLoone (2000),Kirkland (2002) and Barton (2004).

A step change in Troubles cinema was predicted (ibid.), with increasingly nuanced portrayals of the people and events of the previous thirty years, and a decisive movement away from exhausted stereotypical tropes and towards varied, pedagogic portrayals, in both film and television (ibid.). In part this can be explained using Sorlin’s (1980) theory of historical films; the optimism and exceptionally constructive dialogue of the time and environment in which they were created was anticipated to influence the resulting cinematic content. Even as recently as 2014, Crosson (2014) argued there is more discussion and negotiation in Peace Process films compared to earlier counterparts; Coffey (2013) argued there was a perceptible difference between the pessimistic Troubles films released during the conflict years compared to those released post 1998. In summarising Coffey’s (2013) arguments, Rees (2013:12) concluded that “as the peace process unfolded, so too in film did the restrictive and binaried depictions of entrenched political opinions the Good Friday Agreement was attempting to overrun”. To quote Kirkland (2017:19), more recent films highlight that “the violence was resolvable”.

That the late 1990s saw the emergence of notable indigenous Irish and Northern Irish film industries further confirmed expected developments in cinematic style; the asserted aspiration was to reflect a true narrative of Troubles experiences, compared to the previous domination of English and American-led productions (McLoone,1999; Barton,2004). The power of cinema for determining public opinion is immense and well recognised, as discussed by film scholars Sorlin (1980) and Burgoyne (2008); where before extensive public

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understanding and insight of the conflict was fundamentally lacking, in another mark of post-1998 optimism, it was assumed that the Peace Process films would imbue previously naïve international audiences with an increasing awareness of the conflict’s innumerable nuances.

However, despite these understandable predictions, made by McLoone (2000), Pettitt (2000), McIlroy (2001),Kirkland (2002) and Barton (2004) in particular, this paper argues that the on-screen reality of Peace Process films is far from the aspirational cinematic ideals expected of post-1998 Troubles films. Instead, negative and rudimentary stereotypes continue to perpetuate to a considerable degree, determining narrative arcs and reinforcing rudimentary international perceptions of the people, places, politics, culture and history of Northern Ireland; academic assumptions of the progression in cinematic portrayal of the Troubles deduced principally in the early 2000s would appear to have been made prematurely. Even the more recent conclusions of Coffey (2013) and Crosson (2014) are heavily disputed as their optimistic conclusions were drawn from analysis of just one film in each case, rather than a representative cross-section: Five Minutes of Heaven (Hirschbiegel,2009) and Hunger (McQueen,2008), respectively.

Although there is an abundance of literature analysing cinematic representations of the Troubles directed, produced and released prior to 1998, the same cannot be said for the period following the Good Friday Agreement, despite such extensive conjectures; there is a particular dearth of scholarship from the early 2000s onwards. Therefore, this paper intends to remedy this absence of analysis. The core of the research shall demonstrate why it is inappropriate to label Peace Process films as a movement away from the stereotypical, postcolonial limitations of pre-1998 Troubles films, and to highlight instead how little progress has been made in accurately reflecting such a divisive period in British, Irish and Northern Irish modern history. Unlike other recent analyses, this study will draw upon a wider cross-section of films to best explore the subject matter by focusing on three specifically chosen films:

- Silent Grace (Murphy, 2001); - Bloody Sunday (Greengrass, 2002);

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These films have been selected according to fundamental criteria. Naturally, they were all produced and released following the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, and are thus categorised as Peace Process films. Additionally, in a conscious acknowledgement of auteur theory, each film has the same director and screenwriter, a relatively uncommon occurrence in cinema generally, but particularly so with regards Troubles cinema; furthermore, each is of a different nationality, reflecting the three main national groupings of the Troubles: Maeve Murphy is Irish, Paul Greengrass, English, and Terry Loane, Northern Irish.

According to auteur theory, and the extent of the power which resides in the director and screenwriter in leading the filmmaking process and creative outcome, it is thus assumed that these respective director-screenwriters had maximum personal involvement and thus employed unintentional – or intentional – experiential influence or bias in the making of the film. As Peace Process films were forecast to be more nuanced and representationally informative, it is a deliberate choice to analyse films led by the key nationalities of the states involved, because if predictions for the cultural sphere made in the late 1990s and early 2000s were accurate, so the more optimistic social and political environment would make those nationally involved especially capable of a finessed and balanced piece of cinema in a mark of truly moving on from the most tumultuous of years. This is particularly true as Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) and Mickybo and Me (Loane,2004) are results of the aforementioned blossoming Irish and Northern Irish film industries, respectively. Furthermore, if Peace Process films really were to live up to the expectations placed on them, even an English-directed film, such as Bloody Sunday (Greengrass, 2002), would be free of formerly perennial stereotypes.

The methodology for addressing the research question is influenced by the stylistic analyses of preeminent scholars of Troubles cinema, such as Hill (1998), McLoone (2000),Pettitt (2000),McIlroy (2001),Kirkland (2002) and Barton (2004). The fundamental assessment of a lack of filmic progression is therefore through observance, discussion and analysis of tropes and images in the selected films which unquestionably adhere to lambasted stereotypes, and

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their likely postcolonial derivation, and demonstrate a continuation of pre-1998 Troubles films to fail to emphasise the nuances of the conflict. To ensure a suitably thorough discussion of such evidence, a thematic approach will be employed, akin to that observed in the works of aforementioned scholars, dividing analysis into themes of gender; family; violence; religion and landscape; as has been noted, these are some of the most identifiable stereotypes associated with the people and places of Ireland and Northern Ireland, and the Troubles. Each chapter will be dedicated to analysis of a specific theme across all three films. In the cases of gender and family, the inherent overlaps will mean these themes are grouped together; given the context-setting of stereotypes associated with religion and landscape, these themes will be addressed in the same chapter. Themes will be explored through discussion of instances within the screenplay and on screen where stereotypes are realised, including through stark depiction of associated tropes, characterisation, interaction between characters, musical accompaniment and narrative development.

Although there is considerable precedent to this methodology, no method of analysing cinema and film is exempt from the likelihood of cultural and personal subjectivity or bias. Nonetheless, this paper intends to demonstrate that the cinematic stereotypical abundance and unchanged representations of the events, people and places of the Troubles is irrefutable evidence of a lack of development in Peace Process films, especially compared to what was predicted.

Consequently, while gratefully inspired by the extensive works of many leading scholars on the topic of Irish, Northern Irish and Troubles cinema, this paper will advance existing literature on this fascinating subject to better explain the representation of the Troubles on screen in a post-1998 cinematic landscape.

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2. Understanding Irish and Northern Irish Cinema, and

Cinematic Theory

2.1 An Introduction to Irish and Northern Irish Cinema

Irish cinema is a topic of research rich in scholarship, both in portrayals of the Irish island and peoples on screen, and the island’s filmmaking process and industry. As discussed by Barton (2004:5) in Irish National Cinema, the extent to which depictions of Northern Ireland on screen, given its status as a constituent part of the United Kingdom, can be considered to belong to the canon of Irish film is questionable. Nevertheless, for reasons of both geography and ongoing island-wide postcolonial hangover, cinematic representations of both the region of Northern Ireland and its immense historical, political, socio-economic, cultural and religious phenomena feature extensively in examination of Irish cinema (ibid.). This is apparent throughout topical academia; Rockett, Gibbons and Hill’s (1988) Cinema and Ireland, McLoone’s (2000) Irish Film and Pettitt’s (2000) Screening Ireland each combine cinematic portrayals of Northern Ireland with its Irish cartographic and cultural neighbour. In line with existing scholarship therefore, the same approach will be applied throughout this paper: references to Irish film or cinema, unless otherwise explicitly stated, will synonymously include their Northern Irish counterparts.

A central tenant of Irish cinema is the prevalence of deep-rooted stereotypical depictions of people, places and culture, many of which are derogatory. Indeed, such is the pervasiveness of these stereotypes across the cinematic spectrum, seemingly regardless of a film’s genre, narrative concept or release date, that Kirkland (2002:58) identifies them as “exhausted… tropes and images”; most all scholars of the field emphasise this aspect of Irish cinema, including Hill (1998), McLoone (2000),Pettitt (2000), McIlroy (2001),Barton (2004) and Crosson (2014). In an article in renowned cinematic journal, Cinéaste, McLoone (1999) summarises specific subjects oftentimes reduced to clichéd tropes. These constitute the key resource throughout this paper when identifying a stereotypical notion, and include: an inherent inevitability of violence upon the island of Ireland and between the Irish peoples; entrenched gender roles, specifically of female and male characters within an established

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family dynamic coupled with a lack of autonomy over the female body; divisive religious pervasiveness, with a postcolonial influence delineating predominantly pejorative tropes to Catholics yet more positive ones to Protestants; and the power of characterisation attributed to landscape, from the green rural idyll of the traditionally Catholic Republic of Ireland to the gritty, violent and divided urban environment of the North, paralleled with Protestantism (ibid.).

These stereotypes are exaggerated in Troubles films, where violence is almost universally given such integral status to the Northern Irish community as to take on an “enduring character” across the cinematic genre (Hill, 2005:233); this statement is in reference to the iconic Troubles film, Divorcing Jack (Caffrey,1998) yet applicable to nearly all films of the subject. Explained by Pettitt (2000:230) as a result of the “specific conditions” at the centre of the extensive political, ethno-nationalist and historical conflict, Barton (2004:158) argues that the violence is portrayed as “endemic” because the divided community is perceived as failing to function as a normal civic society. In pre-1998 Troubles cinema, this was particularly exacerbated, with the real-time environment indicating that any end to such extreme ruptures in the society were an impossibility (Crosson,2014).

Additionally, this violence is depicted as the domain or propensity of men, supposedly the protectors of passive and fragile females, and thus necessitating aggression (Barton, 1999; Farley,2001; Merivirta,2013). A result of this is the perpetual image of the absent, weak-willed yet hot-tempered father in Irish and Northern Irish culture, removed from the home often by the temptations of violent altercations or alcohol consumption, and thus predominant within the public sphere (ibid); as Shields (2005:42) argues, tongue in cheek, “Where would Irish stories … be without the feckless or authoritarian Da?”.

In contrast, child-bearing mothers are restricted to the private or domestic sphere to raise future generations to continue the fight (Merivirta, 2013); such observations will be made of the films analysed in this paper, as well as being especially acute in films including In the Name

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of the Father (Sheridan,1993) and Some Mother’s Son (George,1996). The excessive gendering of characters and family relationships in Irish film is considerably exaggerated in Troubles cinema (Barton,1999; Flynn,2000; Wenk, 2000; Farley,2001; Coffey,2013; Gladwin,2013; Merivirta,2013; Scarlata,2014). As with most stereotypes of the Irish and Northern Irish, this stems from postcolonial narratives of the forceful male coloniser overpowering the fragile feminine beauty of the colonised island, as will be explained (Flynn, 2000); with the physical, aggressive presence of the British security services literally stationed in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, so the gendered repression of the region is all the more pertinent.

The portrayal of the island of Ireland as feminine is also representative of the irreplaceable female power to grow and build a nation (Wenk,2000:5). As Merivirta (2013:245) explains, “women are expected to uphold traditions and pass them on to the next generation… to keep the authentic national culture alive”. According to Gladwin (2000:51), women’s bodies are quite literally a birthplace of Irish nationalism; this nationalism is cultivated within the home and secures female dominance in the domestic environment (ibid; Scarlata,2014:15). It is thus unsurprising that the female body and bodily autonomy is so politicised, particularly by the Catholic Church, for example in the banning of abortion (ibid.). Those women that rebelled against such physical and mental constraints on screen are sufficient in number to create a new stereotypical category: the “feisty Colleen” as Barton (1999) describes them, predominantly Catholic, bolshie and with a predilection for violence. As shall be discussed, Silent Grace’s (Murphy,2001) Aine is a perfect example.

Such disruption and instability between the genders, particularly within familial spaces, are predictable according to cinematic theory, argued by Farley (2001:204), that “the family frequently functions as a microcosm of society in cinema”. The interactions and depictions of family onscreen operate in much the same way as the historical film theory advanced by Sorlin (1980); at a time of immense division and strife in Northern Ireland, so the family was incapable of harmonious existence, yet as the political, social, economic and religious environment stabilised, so the family unit was expected to be predicted as more balanced and mellow (Farley,2001; Coffey,2013).

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Troubles films often feature further specific tropes or symbolism. These include what Barton (2004:160) labels the “hawk and dove dichotomy”, whereby a violent man (with a specific use of the male gender according to previously established stereotypical imagery) is pitted against a man of peace; although a non-violent role, this is again characterised by a man because of the repetitive narrative’s positioning of men in the public sphere compared to women in the private. In a perhaps unsurprising cinematic outcome, the character campaigning for a peaceful resolution is most often thwarted in some way by a resurgence in Northern Ireland’s violence (ibid.); a prime example of this is Nothing Personal (O’Sullivan,1995). Similarly, an often-identified onscreen phenomenon is the “relationship-across-the-sectarian-divide” (Barton,2004:165-66); romantic liaisons between a pair of Protestant and Catholic youths which are so typically fated as to have been granted the appropriate label “Romeo and Juliet syndrome” by McLoone (2009:9). Regarding young people in Troubles films, McLoone (1999; 2000:169) additionally identifies a repeated theme of “coming of age”: the innocence or naivety of youth surpassed into adulthood, or most oftentimes, stripped away by the reality of violence and struggles for justice, typified in Mickybo and Me (Loane,2004).

Naturally, given the deeply contested nature of religion in Northern Ireland, all Troubles films feature the Protestant–Catholic divide. This is sometimes through blatant depiction of the deeply entrenched conflict, but oftentimes through subtle characterising markers which delineate individuals and regions as Catholic or Protestant. Predominantly, Catholic characters are associated with pejorative descriptors, suggesting that they are wild, unruly, and most likely struggling to look after their typically very large families due to permanent risk of falling into poverty (McLoone,2000; Vaupel,2017). By contrast, Protestant characters in Troubles films are portrayed as more measured, probably wealthier and less inherently drawn to violence (ibid.). This is if they are even portrayed at all; a persistent stylistic trait of Troubles cinema, according to Belfast-born Brian McIlroy (2001), is the continual eschewal of Protestants and Loyalists from stories and screen, particularly the Loyalist paramilitary, in favour of depicting the ‘freedom-fighting struggle’ of the IRA (Irish Republican Army). This is due to American cinematic imperialism (ibid.), to be elaborated upon; the influence of foreign filmmaking industries in these depictions are evident. As Kennedy (1999:8) explains, these

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rudimentary positive and negative characterisations of Protestants and Catholics stem from British postcolonialism; as will be explained at length, the Irish, and by assumptive default, Catholic, ‘Other’ were belittled and demeaned to appear incapable of self-governance, to aid the coloniser’s narrative.

From the early 1990s onwards, negative representations of the Catholic church were further proliferated in cinema, including Troubles films, following the global realisation of systemic abuse of power and status by members of the clergy, most famously the revelation of widespread child abuse at the hands of Catholic priests (Gillan,2008). Simultaneously, filmmakers seized the opportunity to rebel against the forces of control which had dictated so much of existence in Ireland, from cinematic censorship to female bodily autonomy (ibid.). Consequently, pejorative portrayals of Catholicism, and specifically the hierarchy of the Church, were espoused by Irish and Northern Irish filmmakers where formerly this had been the remit of British-made films; during the early years of Peace Process cinema, as the films analysed in this paper originate from, representations of at least a somewhat negative nature showed little sign of abating (ibid.).

One outcome of the accumulation of these stereotypes, and a repeatedly emphasised aspect of Irish and Northern Irish cinema, is a simplification of the intricate causes and complex political reality of the Troubles. McIlroy (2001) and Barton (2004), among others, lament the impact of this reductive approach, which has failed to educate international audiences where a seemingly ideal opportunity presented itself. Yet as Hill (1998:148) ascertained a decade prior to the Good Friday Agreement, those films which most conform to stereotypes of the island of Ireland, its peoples and places are the most characteristically identifiable, and as a direct consequence, he argues, traditionally perform the best commercially. This has been particularly the case due to the dominance of the American and British film industries in producing films depicting Ireland (ibid.).

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With a notable growth in the Irish and Northern Irish indigenous filmmaking industries from the late 1990s, writers including McLoone (1999) and Flynn (2000) predicted a decline in the formerly perennial stereotypical traits of Troubles films and the rise of “more interesting and more complex” characterisation and narrative progression, particularly because commercial achievements were considered secondary to cultural contribution (ibid). However, as shall be explored at length in this paper when analysing the three chosen films, and was identified as early as 2004 by Barton (2004:159), native filmmakers have instead embraced the existing stereotypes, even further perpetuating them, to the great disappointment of many writers of the subject (ibid.).

This is particularly discouraging, yet pertinent to my hypothesis, when accounting for the predicted developments in Troubles cinema following the signing of the Good Friday Agreement in April 1998. Film and politics in Ireland are uniquely intertwined (McIlroy,2001: 7); as has been highlighted, with the commencement of the unprecedented peace processes of the late 1990s and early 2000s, where dialogue and compromise held sway like never before, so this was anticipated to be reflected in cinematic portrayals of the now resolved Troubles. Consequently, “Peace Process” cinema was the catchall phrase for films produced and released during this time, according to McLoone (2000), Kirkland (2002),Barton (2004), and several others; as violence was now proven to not be inherent to the Northern Irish psyche, so it was expected that portrayals of peoples and places would be less stereotypical, with increasingly nuanced depictions of events, both fictional and non-fictional, ensuring greater education on the complex realities of the conflict (ibid.). In more recent analysis of post-1998 Troubles films, both Crosson (2014) and Coffey (2013) argued that these predictions were appropriate; in discussion of Hunger (McQueen,2008), Crosson (2014) details that the foregrounding of negotiation and dialogue, rather than violence, is a uniquely post-Good Friday Agreement tactic. Similarly, Coffey (2013:176) emphasises the “optimistic, nuanced” nature of Peace Process films, and how they “include multiple viewpoints and sympathies from both traditions”. Be that as it may, Coffey (2013) solely focused on Five Minutes of Heaven (Hirschbiegel,2009) in her discussion, meaning that the field of research in both papers was unrepresentatively narrow due to analysis of a single film. Nonetheless, it is of note that neither of these directors are Irish or Northern Irish (rather, English and German

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respectively), and thus Barton’s (2004:159) emphasis that indigenous filmmakers have perpetuated stereotypes is unexplored.

It is no exaggeration to argue that the pervasive use of cinematic pigeonholing continues to dominate discussion of Irish and Northern Irish cinema; whilst proclaiming the nuanced influence of the Peace Processes upon their chosen films, even the more recent works of Coffey (2013) and Crosson (2014) both readily describe classic stereotypes, such as a predilection to violence and traditional gender norms. The very reality that observing and analysing pervasive stereotypes regarding gender, family, violence, religion and landscape within Silent Grace (Murphy,2001), Bloody Sunday (Greengrass, 2002) and Mickybo and Me (Loane, 2004) creates such extensive discussion epitomises the ongoing association with and use of tired tropes within Irish film. This paper argues that the source of such ubiquitous stereotyping, which is often considered derogatory, can predominantly be explained through application of post-colonial theory, whereby the supposed inferiority of the previously colonised nation continues to permeate the national and international conscious.

2.2 Postcolonialism and Irish Cinema

Postcolonialism as an analytical tool for exploring Irish cinema is widely applied and endorsed by scholars of the subject, with Pettitt (2000:9) even commencing his book by highlighting the inescapable “postcolonial consciousness” of the island. As he explains, postcolonial theory is extensive; rather than a single theory it is a “diverse, interdisciplinary critical discourse” employed across historic, economic, social, individual and societal, cultural, psychological and political spheres in an exploration of the relationship between the colonising nation and colonised territory: in this case, of course, Britain and Ireland, respectively (ibid.). At the heart of postcolonial theory is detangling the concept of the ‘Other’, or the means by which the imperialist power defined itself against another supposedly inferior civilization (Ponzanesi, 2018). This approach was applied across the globe by the various colonising forces; in the case of Ireland, the island’s people were portrayed in popular culture (and initially, academia too)

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as unequivocally “lesser” than the British from as early as the 17th _{century (Ashcroft et al.,}

1998:202).

Accordingly, a perception of Ireland as inherently uncivilised was cultivated, epitomised by the development of the “Paddy” characterisation, “a primitive… violent and irrational character who came to represent the Irish as a whole” (McLoone,2000:34). So saw the beginning of the wild, untruly, even untrustworthy Catholic (Kennedy,1999:8), and stereotypical assumption of violence as an inevitability of the Irish people: “a tragic flaw of the Irish themselves (McLoone,2000:60). This was deliberately contrasted by depictions of the British colonisers as measured custodians of a wild peoples, their interventions in the Irish land suitably justified by the supposed predilection of the Irish to drunken violence (McLoone, 2000; Coffey,2013). The British, particularly the armed forces, took on the role of masculine protector in a weak (correlated with feminine) society, as Ireland’s menfolk were often absent or considered otherwise incapable of caring for their families (McLoone, ibid.; Merivirta, 2013:247). Such gendered expression of colonialism is common, as explored at length by Flynn (2000); by characterising the colonised territory as female, so the male coloniser could penetrate deeper into the societal makeup of the region and replicate a patriarchal system of authority appropriate for the statist relationship. This is similarly where the now romanticised notion of “Mother Ireland” stems from, as well as being associated with the obligation of the nation’s women to produce the next generation (Merivirta,2013: 247).

The implementation of derogative and reductive stereotypes establishes power relations and “the maintenance of social and symbolic order” (Hall,1997: 258). Such deliberately demeaning ‘Othering’ took hold in the national and international consciousness over time (Ponzanesi,2018) and thus acted as the primary cause of the deeply entrenched stereotypes of the island of Ireland, its peoples and customs, according to postcolonial theory (McLoone,2000; Pettitt,2000).

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This plays out clearly in Northern Ireland: a geographical, political, historical, social and cultural location where the struggles between colonised and coloniser physically, verbally and emotionally continue to play out; there is extensive literature detailing the conflict as post-colonial at heart, including the works of Flynn (2000) and Flannery (2007) which specifically tie the postcolonialism of the Troubles to modern cinema, eternally bound through the implementation of aforementioned reductive stereotypes. McIlroy (2001:1) argues that a key reason for the international appetite for Troubles films is that viewers wish to see the supposedly repressed Irishmen, the Catholic underdogs, fighting for freedom against their British oppressors, thereby subconsciously – or consciously – taking an anti-imperialist view in their implicit or explicit support of the Irish; he argues (ibid.) this is why there are so few onscreen depictions of Protestants and Loyalists.

However, this outcome is also considerably due to American cinematic imperialism. Already stated as a cause of the mass perpetuation of stereotyping within Irish film (Hill, 1988; McLoone, 1999; Flynn,2000; McIlroy,2001), the global dominance of the American film industry established the stylistic argument that the IRA were not terrorists, but freedom fighters in the face of the overbearing British, or even glamourous gangsters (ibid., Monahan,2015). This was a vein of argument that many American viewers found agreeable, in part due to American history with the British, but also because it appealed to the immense Irish diaspora in America (Hill,1988); a further outcome of this was the nostalgic romanticising of the Irish island and its peoples in Hollywood-produced films, which eked out stereotypes such as the luscious, green, rolling expanse of the Irish countryside (ibid.). As McLoone (2000:118) discusses, such was the extensive predominance of Hollywoodized depictions of Ireland and Northern Ireland that an eradication of national culture was feared.

Considering both British post-colonialism and American cinematic imperialism, so the expectations placed on the growth of the indigenous Irish and Northern Irish film industries in the late 1990s for national cultural expression are understandable (McLoone,1999,2000; Flynn,2000). Cinema in Ireland was widely celebrated as an opportunity to transcend traditional constraints and articulate native culture to an international audience (Flynn,2000),

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exploring past and contemporary relations with its former cinematic (and literal) rulers (McLoone,2000); as Rosenstone (1995:5) discusses, this is far from unique to Ireland, and instead a common reflex across former colonial nations. It is thus unsurprising that Irish cultural production has been driven by what Barton (2004:9) terms a “postcolonial imperative” to depict Ireland – and all that this encompasses, from landscape, to people, to identity – as distinctive and autonomous. Coffey (2013) similarly notes this intention to reassert and redefine Ireland’s relationship not just with its coloniser but with itself; as early as 1999, McLoone (1999) observed that native Irish cinema was imbued with the opportunity for “national questioning”, exploring internal and international relationships through onscreen investigations of regional identity, or authentic characterisations.

However, the embedded postcolonialism in Irish cinema lives on, apparent not only in the continued prevalence of colonial caricatures, but even in cinema-going attitudes. In an interview with the Irish Times (McGreevy,2015), Oscar-nominated director Tomm Moore declared that Irish audiences often failed to embrace Irish-made films, due to what Moore deemed a deeply embedded fear of the films being culturally inferior to that of Britain or Hollywood, preferring instead to see how the film was received abroad before drawing a receptive conclusion (ibid.).

As such, the ongoing postcolonial existence of Ireland continues to be seen in cinematic formulations. Best witnessed in the enduring use of the contrived stereotypes which have burdened Irish films, especially Troubles films, for decades, the reach of American and British cultural projections of the island of Ireland permeates the very relationship of its people to Irish cinema. It must be emphasised, however, that despite the failure of a more nuanced form of indigenous cinema to come to fruition, the expectation that it would do so is entirely coherent according to historical film theories, as shall be discussed.

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2.3 History in Film

The portrayal of events of an historical nature, both fictional and nonfictional, in film, is far from a new phenomenon but instead a common theme of cinematic creation throughout the decades. Sorlin (1980:20) compiled a list of minimum criteria which a film must exhibit to constitute as historical; most importantly, a film’s details (costume, setting, scripted vernacular) should enable the audience to place the film within a previous time frame, although asserted that this should not be from a distant past, and that the cultural heritage of the nation portrayed should be in some way intrinsically relatable to all countrymen watching the film (ibid.). According to these rationales, films made about the Troubles since the Good Friday Agreement was signed and peace formally secured are prime examples of historical films: by nature of being ‘Peace Process’ films, the events are of an incredibly recent past. They can be placed there with signifiers both as specific as the majority type of car models which line the film setting’s streets, thus dating the narrative to a limited timeframe; alternatively, a marker as broad as the very fact that conflict is in occurrence can be used: although not definitively, as Northern Irish ethno-nationalist disturbance is certainly not limited to the official thirty years of the Troubles, this does place a film most likely within the 1968 – 1998 period. Similarly, although it is often due to the much-discussed pandemic nature of stereotyping, the characters, their actions, and the locations in which they take place enable Protestants and Catholics alike, through to those with no personal links to the Irish island, to firmly ascertain the approximate, perhaps even exact, environment pictured.

As discussed by numerous cinematic scholars (Sorlin, 1980,1990; O’Connor,1990; Guynn, 2006; Burgoyne,2008), the applicability of historical films for use as actual sources pertinent to the times they refer to is highly disputed; however, their use in comprehending social and cultural commentaries, both of the time in which they were created and released, and by nature of comparison, to the time of viewing, is well-recognised (ibid.). Instead of taking a more objective, disciplined approach in analysing the specifics of a piece of history, Guynn (2006) explains how historical films aspire to shed light on the chosen period as a whole, rather than an individual event. This is epitomised in both Some Mother’s Son (George, 1996) and one of the chosen films for this paper, Silent Grace (Murphy,2001): although framed

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within a specific phase of the conflict (the renowned 1980 hunger strikes by Republican prisoners in demand for political status), it is the wider social and individual dynamics which take centre stage – or rather, centre screen – demonstrating how far-reaching and diverse the effects of conflict can be, and the resulting human reactions and interactions. However, Burgoyne (2008:18) adjusts this argument, reiterating that depicting the wider historical picture is often an outcome, but that this is achieved through bringing focus and public attention to a specific episode or event. Nevertheless, both approaches are encompassed in the choice of historical films for this paper: as highlighted above, Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) is aligned with Guynn’s (2006) argument, while Bloody Sunday (Greengrass,2002) depicts the events of a few hours on the correspondingly entitled infamous day of January 1972.

Despite being an entirely fictionalised tale, the third film analysed in this paper, Mickybo and Me (Loane, 2004), similarly adheres to Guynn’s (2006) classification, shining a light on life in the Troubles with added narrational liberties; it is also unquestionably an historical film, according to Sorlin’s (1980:20) criteria. In fact, that Mickybo and Me (Loane, 2004) is a work of fiction in no way detracts from its credentials as an historical film: preeminent scholars Sorlin (1980), Rosenstone (1995) and Guynn (2006) argue that all historical films are fictional to some degree, even those based on detailed reality of actual events, because ultimately they are artistic recreations, reconstructing or entirely constructing whole events and conversations, often through a subjective lens. For example, even in Bloody Sunday (2002), a film which recreates the day’s events as they are understood to be historical fact, numerous conversations are depicted which Paul Greengrass, as the director and screenwriter, will have had to create entirely for the purposes of explaining and forwarding the narrative, such as that between MP Ivan Cooper and girlfriend, Frances. As renowned cinematic scholar, François de la Bretèque summarised: “the historical film situates itself exactly at the spots where one cannot know what really took place” (de la Bretèque,1999). Consequently, the role of the director and screenwriter in historical films, according to auteur theory, is all the more relevant, as shall be discussed.

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A key theoretical concept of historical films is that when creating a cinematic representation of the past, it is in fact the present which is reflected and explored on screen: the “past… becomes an allegory of the present” (Burgoyne,2008:10). Most famously argued by Sorlin (1980), it has also influenced the work of Guynn (2006), Burgoyne (2008) and Trafton (2016), and is a central premise of most studies of Irish and Northern Irish cinematic developments4_,

including this paper. The theory was developed by Sorlin (1980;1990) entirely unrelated to the events in Northern Ireland or filmic versions of them, and long before the Good Friday Agreement was signed; it is based on the simple premise that by looking back at the past from the present moment, with the benefit of the passing of time, so we better understand those previous events and what comes to fruition or not: thus this innately influences the making of the present-day film. This is due to the understanding that a changed environment from the heart of the Troubles to a time of formal peace could not be ignored by filmmakers, particularly given the degree of autonomy they have over a film’s creation.

Therefore, it was argued by many Irish film scholars5 _{that films about the Troubles pre and}

post April 1998 would reflect the differences in environment and necessitate new emphasises; it was expected that films would transition from portrayals of a bleak, broken, unresolvedly divided nation, where violence was endemic and portrayed accordingly, to a communicative and healing society aspiring towards a permanent peace. This was to be portrayed through, for example, reductions in representations of senseless violence, and increase in cross-party dialogue, thereby suggesting that a resolution was possible where before it had seemed inconceivable (Crosson,2014).

Historical films have the potential to reframe audiences’ comprehension of the past, positively and negatively, in an extension of the well-recognised power of cinema to inform public opinion and offer an educational medium (O’Connor, 1990; Rosenstone, 1990; Crosson,2014). Considering the anticipated differences between films released pre and post

4 _{As previously highlighted, these include McLoone (2000), Pettitt (2000), McIlroy (2001), Kirkland}

(2002) and Barton (2004), amongst others.

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1998, this is of significance. In a statement particularly applicable to post-1998 Troubles films, Trafton (2016) describes historical films as a place to “interrogate a nation’s relationship with the past”; the films provide an opportunity for identity exploration, similar to post-colonial cultural pieces, in the now formally peaceful land of Northern Ireland. Furthermore, both Guynn (2006) and Burgoyne (2008) emphasise the power of historical film for uniting past and present experiences: creating “meaningful links” (Guynn, 2006:19) and a “powerful emotional relationship” (Burgoyne,2008: 11) between the present-day and recent past for future generations.

Of course, a downside of this can be the subjective manipulation of an audience through projecting a specific tale of the Troubles; this is a risk of all historical films (Guynn,2006). In historical films individual characters are often representative of a mass grouping (ibid:104): in the case of Northern Ireland, that may be seen with one character charged with representing the entirety of the Protestants, their opinions of the conflict, aspirations and fears; ditto with a singular character representing all Catholics, or members of the British security services. It is impossible to adequately amalgamate all individuals that are part of the same general ethno-nationalist persuasion into one figure. Consequently, stereotypes are again likely to perpetuate; as Rosenstone (1995:7) states, films of the past, even the recent past “create proximate, appropriate characters, situations, images and metaphors”. Unsurprisingly, those pre-existing images and tropes are the easiest to resurrect and can result in the return to simplified signifiers; however, the extent to which these proliferate are to a large extent in the hands of the screenwriters and directors, the auteurs.

Historical films, such as those examined in this paper, thus have a propensity to represent the time in which they are created and the subsequent potential for a more nuanced image of Northern Ireland, its peoples and events to be circulated for emotional and didactic purposes. As shall be analysed, however, part of the failure of Peace Process films to truly reflect a step-change in Troubles cinema stems from the similarly common likelihood for the deployment of stereotypical characters at the hands of the filmmakers.

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2.4 Auteur Theory

Although often considered inapplicable to American cinema, given the extent to which personal control of creating a film is ceded to the corporate Hollywood studios, auteur theory is frequently applied to European-made films on the understanding that screenwriters and directors have the greatest input and influence on the final cinematic result (Benshoff,2016). In this way, these individuals are the ‘authors’ of the film: even with the large numbers of people working on its creation, it is the director in particular whose “creative vision … leaves its mark on the final film”, with the screenwriter given nearly equal precedence (ibid). Consequently, the three films analysed at length in this paper each have the same director and screenwriter, indicating that to the greatest possible extent, it is their artistic intentions which are articulated in the onscreen outcomes.

As previously stated, according to de la Bretèque (1999) this is particularly the case with regards historical films; the spaces in the films’ narrative, inevitable even in non-fictional pictures, receive varying degrees of creative control from those key individuals. It is thus assumed that their personal inclinations, biases, backgrounds, experiences and even “social groupings” (ibid.), or “social subjectivity… race, gender, ethnicity, sexuality, and so forth” (Benshoff,2016) will by default influence the film.

It is thus with this understanding that the films of this paper have been chosen, reflective of each of the key nationalities involved in the conflict – Northern Irish, Irish, and British – on the premise that if Peace Process films really were to be more nuanced, able to educate audiences and less stereotyped, so personal heritage should be of little consequence.

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3. The Chosen Films: Synopsises and Critical Reception

3.1 Silent Grace (Murphy, 2001)

Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) was written and directed by renowned Irish filmmaker, Maeve Murphy, adapted from a play she had previously written and with completion funds from the Irish Film Board (Murphy,2017). Released in 2001, the film focuses on the little-told story of the Armagh Women who joined the 1980 Hunger Strikes and Dirty Protests (where inmates refused to clean themselves and covered cell walls in their own faeces) in solidarity with their male counterparts in Maze (Long Kesh) prison. A fictional narrative set during real events, the film takes place almost entirely within the wing of Armagh Women’s Prison which houses those protesting for political prisoner status; it centres on hardened IRA fighter, Eileen (played by Orla Brady), as she goes on hunger strike, and the young prisoner made to share her cell, Aine Quinn (Cathleen Brady), arrested for joyriding and with no previous Republican affiliations.

Whilst framed within a clear context of The Troubles, the film humanises the conflict by bringing to the fore the importance of personal and societal relationships, both between those ostensibly ‘on the same side’, as Eileen and Aine learn to accommodate each other’s differences and forge powerful bonds of unanimity, as well as across the divide, with the interactions between the Protestant Prison Governor (played by Conor Mullen) and Eileen particularly understanding and compassionate. Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) succeeds in shining a new light upon the Troubles, emphasising a relatively unknown angle to the otherwise renowned hunger strikes, and consciously challenging long-standing derogatory or reductive representations of Irish women by imbuing the characters with physical, emotional and mental strength and dignity; in the words of former Armagh inmate, Marie Gavaghan (interview with Fleming,2004), “I think it’s a very brave tribute to the women”. Nonetheless, the fictional nature of historical films, even those loosely based on real events, is evident, as well as the power of Murphy’s auteurship in the final creation: Gavaghan declares “there's an

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awful lot too that we'd actually include and we would put a different focus on it” (ibid.). She concludes, however, that "in a lot of ways she's [Murphy] got it right” (ibid.).

Given the predominantly female cast of Silent Grace (2001), plus female writer-director, both of which are unusual circumstances in Troubles and Peace Process cinema, debate and discussion of gender is inescapable and as shall be observed, provides an abundance of thematic analysis, particularly as the women take on roles and tropes traditionally aligned with Irish men. This is exacerbated by the glaring onscreen juxtaposition of the politicisation of women’s bodies and the solidarity of sisterhood which extends far beyond the physical, in a deliberate play on the Christian semantics of the title (Coomasaru,2017). Murphy (interview by Volta.ie, date unknown) was naturally aware of the pronounced gender imbalance in story telling across all mediums with regards the Troubles, both in terms of the shortage of stories told by women or from the female perspective, and in the sheer disparity between the number of female and male characters.

Whilst keen to redress this through the portrayal of a fairly unique narrative, Murphy (ibid.) emphasised that it was the optimistic humanism she had honed through the plot’s script that compelled her to create the film: she aspired to “to humanise a situation, and humanise women who’d been demonised, and humanise men who’d been demonised … like the character of the prison governor” (Murphy in interview with Fleming,2004). To her credit, it is this aspect which critical reviewers and scholarly analyses alike regard most highly, although to suggest that this negates the influence upon the narrative of her experiences as an Irish woman, according to auteur theory, would be excessive. Described at the time of release by renowned Irish Times critic, Michael Dwyer (2001), as “unusually even-handed” in comparison to most films about the Troubles, he praised the ability for the prison Governor to “emerge[s] as concerned and even sympathetic”; leading Irish cultural review website, Hot Press, deemed Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) “wonderfully humane, even-handed and quietly joyful” (Brady, 2004). In more recent commentary, the Huffington Post praised Murphy’s “catalytic” ability to “re-humanise our view of these republican women” (Grover,2014), while an analysis of contemporary performances of Irish politics again emphasises the power of personal

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connection against a wider conflictual backdrop in the exchanges between Eileen and the Governor (Pine,2010).

In a direct, albeit seemingly subconscious, nod towards Sorlin’s (1980) historical film theory, Murphy (interview by Volta.ie, date unknown) describes how the environment and atmosphere at the time of the film’s creation, shortly after the Good Friday Agreement, was a key source of inspiration and according to Barton (2004) et al., cements Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) as a Peace Process film: “the ending reflects the mood of that time, showing dialogue and negotiation creating change where there was no hope of change”. As Murphy (2012) explains, the intention was to “create a film about the hunger strikes which had a profound respect for life at its core”. The power of auteurship to steer the film is apparent, and according to the critical responses which so praised the even-handedness of the narrative, Murphy’s clear cinematic intentions as Silent Grace’s (2001) auteur were not only achieved but have stood the test of time against a shifting socio-political cultural climate.

International recognition of Silent Grace’s (2001) perspective-altering commentary on conflict was equally forthcoming, and it was nominated for the Conflict and Resolution Award at the Hamptons International Film Festival USA in association with the Nobel Peace Laureates Foundation: all five nominees received a personal video address from President Clinton praising and encouraging their work (Murphy,2017). The film was even chosen as the British entry for a category at the Cannes Film Festival – until the UK selection board was reminded that it was an Irish film (ibid.).

Nonetheless, reviews of Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) were far from universally adulatory. The film was largely rated 3 stars or less, with the primary criticisms stemming from the overly theatrical, unsubtle nature of the piece, considered a result of its origins as a play (Dwyer, 2001; Bradshaw,2004; Thomas,2015). Additionally, critics derided the women of the prison for looking too beautiful to actually be partaking in a dirty protest: Bradshaw (2004) gave the film 2 stars because the women embodied a clichéd character of the beautiful Irish lass,

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looking “too fresh-faced and relaxed in their body language to be involved in dirty protests and hunger strikes” (ibid.). Radio Times reviewer David Parkinson (2001a) criticised Maeve Murphy specifically for her failure to address sectarian issues with greater directness, given the extents to which the character of Eileen is willing to go in the name of Republicanism.

Thus, although Silent Grace (Murphy,2001) did reflect a step-change in Troubles cinema by the nature of the subject matter, the centring of the female experience, and the aspirational resolutory ending, stereotypes continue to perpetuate throughout this alternative narrative. Most prominent is the overwhelmingly postcolonial nature of the film, with the literal, and masculine, authority of the colonising nation imprisoning the Irish women, particularly as they grow literally weaker during the hunger strike; archetypal, gendered characterisations and the depiction of an ongoingly difficult relationship with the Catholic Church also feature. Consequently, despite Murphy’s intention to reframe a Troubles story with, and for, a Peace Process mentality, the significant cinematic progressions anticipated post-1998 are limited.

3.2 Bloody Sunday (Greengrass, 2002)

Bloody Sunday (Greengrass,2002) is one of the most iconic films about the Troubles, released to coincide with the 30th _{anniversary of that most catastrophic of days, Sunday 30}th _January

1972, known by the same definitive moniker as the film’s title6_{. Widely considered to be one}

of the most significant turning points of the entire conflict, thirteen people died (a fourteenth died some months later) when heavily armed British soldiers from the Army’s Parachute Regiment opened fire indiscriminately on civil rights demonstrators holding a peaceful march against interment without trial in the Bogside, a predominantly Catholic area of

6 _{Explanations of the events of 30}th _{January 1972 are numerous, but in this instance the detailed,}

neutral summary provided by the BBC is extensively utilised (BBC News Online, 2019): BBC News Online, 2019. What happened on Bloody Sunday? BBC News [Online], 14 March. Available from:

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Derry/Londonderry7_{. As tensions grew between the opposing groups, stones were thrown at}

the soldiers, who responded by firing rubber bullets, tear gas and water cannons and making mass arrests; at some point in the ensuing fray, soldiers opened fire upon the civilians, declaring a gun had been spotted and in some accounts, fired, from the Catholic protestors, and thus the heavy loss of life followed. Also known within the Catholic community as the Bogside Massacre, no British servicemen were wounded or killed, and all eyewitness accounts refute claims that the demonstrators were armed.

In portraying the events of this momentous day on film, director Paul Greengrass, a renowned English documentary-maker, was more than aware of the sensitivities involved, describing it as “unquestionably the most difficult, the most contentious, the most controversial single day of the whole Troubles … the day that propelled Northern Ireland into 30 years of conflict” (Greengrass cited in Winter,2002:120). In a Question & Answer session after a premiere screening of the film, Greengrass stated definitively that “this was the event that did more than anything to drive people into the arms of the IRA” (Paramount Classics,2002a). Despite such seemingly resolute personal opinions, Greengrass’ intention was to do justice to all sides and project an even-handedness in Bloody Sunday (Greengrass,2002) which he felt had so far failed to be achieved in the telling of the day’s events (Foundas,2002); this is seen even in the funding of the film, with the £3 million budget co-financed equally between British and Irish organisations (ibid).

The film is imbued with aspirations of cinematic validity; Greengrass described his determination to bring an “edge of authenticity” to the project (Greengrass cited in Greenlaw, 2010:2). In this, his background in documentary making is apparent, as the film is shot with a hand-held camera in a dramatic cinema-verité style (Tracy,2007:14; Haekel,2014:176), or “documentary-style realism” (McIlroy and Moser, 2011:254); Fuller (2002:49) describes the

7 _{For an explanation of Bloody Sunday specifically in reference to the identically titled film, the work}

of Richard Kelly is exemplary (Kelly, 2002): Kelly, R., 2002. Film: It won’t go away, you know –Bloody Sunday and Sunday. Critical Quarterly [Online], 44(2), pp.73–83. Available from: