Films that aim to make a political statement often do so loud and clear, sometimes much too loudly, and much to clearly. Films dealing with ‘Troubles’ in Northern Ireland run the risk of becoming victim that very affliction. The Crying Game (Neil Jordan, 1992) and The Boxer (Jim Sheridan, 1998) attempt to show the “Troubles” of
In The Crying Game the first relationship between characters we are introduced to is between Jody (Forest Whitaker) a black British soldier, and Jude (Miranda Richardson) an undercover IRA volunteer. They are at a fair on what appears, at first, to be a date. We soon find out that she is luring him into an IRA trap, to be held hostage. From the first scene in the film
One interesting interaction between the two comes very early in the picture when Jude holds Jody’s hand while he urinates, because he is afraid she might leave him. It is a very interesting scene indeed. Jody seems very pleased with the sensation of a woman holding his hand while he urinates, a fact that becomes even stranger after learning of Dil’s ‘secret’. Jody also is afraid of being left alone, another sentiment that is brought up later in the film, in his conversations with Fergus. The two clearly are not meant to be together, especially after knowing why the are together. This scene in particular outlines Jody’s naïveté, as well as Jude’s deceitful ways.
The next relationship to discuss will be that of Jude and Fergus (Stephen Rea). Fergus is first introduced with a clever tracking shot that reveals him watching Jude and Jody, and following them as they pass him. It is him who a few minutes later ambushes Jody and subsequently kicks him in the face. We find out in the next seen, back at the IRA hideout that Fergus and Jude were in on this plan together, and are actually romantically involved with one another. This time the relationship is introduced with deceit between it, but it exists on a basis of deceit. They are not just romantically involved; Fergus and Jude are together as participants in a political terrorist organization.
“Miranda Richardson has a key role as an IRA terrorist who toys with Fergus, early and late, confusing sexual power with political principles” (Ebert). Jude more or less tortures Fergus. She gives him a hard time for befriending the hostage, Jody, and even physically abuses his new friend. Toward the end of the film she turns up in
When we first arrive at the IRA hideout where the hooded Jody is to be held hostage, we are introduced to leader of the little gang. Maguire (Adrian Dunbar) is first seen lighting a cigarette and informing Jody of the situation: that he is “being held hostage by the Irish Republican Army” and will be shot if the British army does not release an IRA senior member then Jody will be shot. As the top dog of the small group, Maguire’s relationship to Fergus is one of power. He is able to give orders, and Fergus is required to ask “permission to watch the prisoner”. Their relationship is facilitated by a notion that one person is more important, or powerful than another.
In the end, after Fergus does not show up to execute the IRA operation because he is ‘tied up’; Maguire attempts to do it himself. This results in Maguire’s death. He is nothing without his power. When Fergus disobeys him, deliberately or not, he is destroyed. Living through power over another person is not the most successful way to live.
The relationship that follows throughout the entire film is the one between Fergus and Jody. Jody singles him out as the most compassionate of the IRA people, and the two of them form a bond during Jody’s captivity. They form a most unusual friendship out of even more unusual circumstances.
In Jody’s yearning for communication, he tells Fergus a fable about a frog and a scorpion. The point of the story is that there are two types of people in the world, those who give and those who take. “Through both subtext and narrative, the film proves Jody’s thesis by refusing to draw a line between English and Irish, men and women, hetero and homo; each division is blurred” (Giles 54). Jane Giles’ words speak for themselves. The relationship these two men share, defined by Jody’s story, guides the viewer through the film and shows that people are people. It tells us that we are all humans, and it is our ‘nature’ that differentiates us, not our skin color, nationality, or sexual preference.
It is between Jody and Fergus that the hand holding urination motif comes back. Jody’s hands are cuffed, so he asks Fergus to help him. Fergus eventually gives in, because it is ‘in his nature’. He not only has to pull Jody’s penis out of his pants, and put it back, but he needs to hold Jody’s hands while he goes so he can lean forward. It seems a little bit as if Jody is insisting on this because he wants that kind of human contact. Whatever Jody’s reasons for asking, Fergus gives in and helps his new friend out. This form of humility toward the ‘other’ or the ‘enemy’ is what sets Fergus apart from the rest of the IRA group.
When Fergus first meet’s Dil at the ‘Metro’, the two of them are soon accompanied by the pestering ex-boyfriend, Dave (Ralph Brown). Dave spends his time following Dil and, rather pathetically, trying to convince her to take him back. This relationship, while being relatively minor to the plot, is based on a need for acceptance and companionship. This is a common theme seen throughout most of the characters, reflecting the people of
After Jody’s death, the film completely changes. We go from an IRA hideout in the
The big secret of the film, the fact that Dil is biologically male, comes as a complete shock to Fergus. Their intimate foreplay quickly becomes Fergus’ date with the porcelain throne. He can not immediately handle the shock, but he learns to cope. “After the revelation, Dil herself remains the same, but the film changes tone to hit its comic stride” (Giles 59). This is showing that the film itself, along with Fergus is learning to understand things that are different. It is learning to accept facts that it would previously have been at odds with. This sets an example for us in the real world, a hopeful message to the people of
Roger Ebert argues that “the love story transcends all of the plot turns to take on an importance of its own.” While I agree with the statement, I disagree with the implications. Ebert is suggesting that the love story is so intriguing that it takes precedent over everything else. I find quite the opposite: that much like many of the other relationships in the film, Dil and Fergus’ relationship is a reflection of the larger social context that surrounds them. Their struggle with trust, and secrecy, as well as their ability to fall in love against all odds is a commentary that there is hope for the struggle in
Jody is the tie between Dil and Fergus. “The image of the dead Jody haunts the film; Dil ends up wearing his cricket whites” (Dunne). Fergus has visions of Jody playing cricket throughout the film. Near the end, in an effort to hide her from the IRA by making her “into something new”; Fergus dresses Dil up in Jody’s cricket clothing. This makes it clear that their relationship is mediated by a middleman: a black Englishman, playing an Englishman’s sport, cricket.
The relationship between Dil and Jody, which we never actively see because the film begins after Jody is separated from Dil, is solidly the topic of interest, especially to Fergus, throughout the film. In the first half of the film, Jody tells Fergus about Dil while he is being held captive. Then, in the second half of the film Fergus prods Dil for information about Jody. Jody’s pictures adorn Dil’s apartment. Their relationship is defined by absence.
Sean Dunne points out this lack of togetherness in his review of the film, remarking that “while
Through the way the characters interact with one another,
In The Boxer, Danny Flynn (Daniel Day-Lewis) and Maggie (Emily Watson) take a form of a somewhat familiar ‘star-crossed lovers’ scenario. They had been young lovers, and when Danny went to prison for IRA activities they lost contact and Maggie married Danny’s friend. Maggie’s husband was sent to prison shortly afterward. When Danny gets out of prison he hopes to win back Maggie’s heart. Not only is their potential rekindling of a romantic relationship prevented by the fact that Maggie is married, the wives of imprisoned IRA men are expected to adhere to strict rules about who they talk to and where they are seen to protect the morale of the prisoners. This relationship of apparently ‘true love’ is prevented by the circumstances of the political situation in
When Danny gets out of prison he runs into his old friend Ike Weir (Ken Stott). The two decide to put the old boxing gym back together. Together the two of them, with their bare hands, attempt to bring the Protestants and the Catholics together under one roof the only way they know how, with boxing. Their relationship is based on the idea of uniting the two sects of people, not with politics, but with sports.
This bringing together of people is very important to a community whose “ordinary values have been distorted by years of violence” (Macnab). Ike and Danny are able to transcend the ‘Troubles’ by hanging up old pictures and training children. They bring in both sides of the fence in order to participate together as one community undivided.
Boxing ends up bringing Danny together with Maggie’s son Liam (Ciaran Fitzgerald). The two form a bond through Danny training Liam to box at the gym. Under the same roof that boxing brings the Protestants and Catholics together, this relationship is forged.
This changes when Danny and Maggie start seeing each other. Liam is afraid his mother is going to leave him and go to
Liam eventually realizes that Danny is not the bad guy, and it is in fact the people his father is involved with that are the scary, violent people.
Liam’s relationship with his mother, Maggie, is stressed by the ‘Troubles’. They have a close relationship, but when Liam starts to realize how things work around him things change. Their relationship comes to be about fear of being separated, quite the opposite of the
One relationship that is legal, but basically nonexistent is Maggie’s marriage. Her husband Thomas, who is never seen on screen because he is in prison, still plays at least a symbolic role in the film. It is symbolic of what all of the wives of the imprisoned IRA men have to go through. The marriage stands to prevent the proliferation of true love between Maggie and Danny.
The danger that Maggie and Danny enter into when they become romantically involved is shown to the viewer before we even know that the two are connected. At the wedding reception of a woman and her imprisoned man, a boy dances with a woman who is married to a prisoner and a couple of Harry (Gerard McSorley), an IRA leader’s men threaten to shoot the kid in the knees if he ever does it again. They are not messing around. They intend to protect the morale of the prisoners, by means of violence.
As a married woman, Maggie is subject to this same kind of ‘protection’. Even though this practice may or may not improve the prisoners’ morale, it tears the community apart. The women are treated as objects and tools of the IRA’s cause. This kind of division reflects the practices of the terrorist IRA tactics. They are putting too much energy into the wrong direction to reach their goal.
The relationship between Maggie’s father, Joe Hamill (Brian Cox), and Harry (Gerard McSorley), two men high up in the IRA, is very contentious. Joe believes that the violence approach just is not working, and they need a new angle. Harry, however, feels that bombing is the only thing that works. The inner turmoil within the group represents the struggle with oneself, not the ‘other’.
In the end, in a surprising twist, the IRA kills Harry instead of Danny. This seems “to suggest that for peace and reconciliation to be achieved, men such as Harry must be eliminated” (McIlroy 82). In other words,
Out of The Boxer’s “complex yet cohesive tapestry” of interrelated characters
Both The Boxer and The Crying Game tell fascinating stories that deal with the ‘Troubles’ without pushing them to the side. They do not delegate the ‘politics’ solely to a contrived subplot. Both Sheridan and Jordan skillfully weave their commentary on
Works Cited
Dunne, Sean. "The Crying Game." Film
December 2009. Film Ireland.
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Macnab, Geoffrey. “The Boxer”. Sight and Sound. 1997. FIST 210 Custom Course
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Mcilroy, Brian. Shooting to Kill. 1st ed.
Simon, John. “Fists, Fires, and Hearts”. National Review, Vol. 50 Issue 4. 1998. FIST
210 Custom Course Material.
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