Vinny Murphy | Through the Shattered Lens

Though the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences claim that the Oscars honor the best of the year, we all know that there are always worthy films and performances that end up getting overlooked. Sometimes, it’s because the competition too fierce. Sometimes, it’s because the film itself was too controversial. Often, it’s just a case of a film’s quality not being fully recognized until years after its initial released. This series of reviews takes a look at the films and performances that should have been nominated but were, for whatever reason, overlooked. These are the Unnominated.

Directed by John Boorman, 1998’s The General tells the story of Martin Cahill.

Martin Cahill (Brendan Gleeson) was a Dublin-based crime lord, a thief by trade who never made any apologies for his profession. The film opens with the end of Martin Cahill’s life. Leaving his suburban home, he’s sitting behind the steering wheel of his car when a young man runs up and shoots him in the face. Cahill’s car rolls forward while his wife (Maria Doyle Kennedy) screams for help. Cahill has been assassinated in front of his family and the reaction of the local police is to celebrate until Cahill’s oldest nemesis, Inspector Ned Kenney (Jon Voight), announces that they have nothing to cheer about. The film leaves it somewhat ambiguous as to who shot Cahill, though it heavily suggests that he was shot by the IRA, both because of their mistaken belief that he was moving drugs into the neighborhood but also because of his refusal to share his profits with them.

The film flashes back and we watch as Martin Cahill, a rebellious young man who stole to impress girls and to get a shot back at the establishment, grows up to become Martin Cahill, the crime lord that the papers nickname The General. Cahill is a professional thief and he’s fairly honest about it. When his government-controlled flat is torn down, Cahill camps out on the site in a tent, refusing to leave because the location of the new building is to close to the police station. He says he’d rather be moved to a richer part of town. It’s better for his work. As portrayed by Brendan Gleeson, Cahill is a fascinating and complex character, a ruthless criminal who is also devoted to his pigeons, his children and both his wife and his girlfriend (Angeline Bail). (Fortunately, for Martin, his wife and his girlfriend know about each other and are good friends.) He’s the type of crime lord who will test a man’s loyalty by nailing him to a pool table and then take him to the hospital afterwards. “Sorry, Martin,” another associate says after Martin shoots him in the leg to make a fake break-in look authentic. It’s hard not to like the film’s version of Martin Cahill, an intelligent and ultimately honest man who understands the importance of allowing his enemies to believe him to be a buffoon. He may be a criminal but he considers it to be an honest living, unlike the government officials who force unwanted laws and exorbitant taxation on the citizenry Director John Boorman certainly seems to like Cahill, which is interesting as Boorman was actually the victim of one of Cahill’s robberies. (Boorman recreates the robbery in the film.)

The film went unnominated at the Oscars, which were dominated that year by Shakespeare in Love and Saving Private Ryan. Brendan Gleeson definitely deserved a nomination for his charismatic performance as Martin Cahill. Equally worthy of a nomination was Seamus Deasy’s black-and-white cinematography, which gives the film the dream-like feel of a half-remembered legend. (The version of the film that’s on Tubi features desaturated color. It’s actually an effective look for the film’s story but I still prefer the black-and-white original.) Neither was nominated and, indeed, Brendan Gleeson would have to wait until 2023 to finally receive his first Oscar nominations for The Banshees of Inisherin.

The General (1998, dir by John Boorman, DP: Seamus Deasy)

Previous entries in The Unnominated:

Folk music is the music of evil people.

That’s something that I’ve been saying for years. Of course, as is usually the case with such pronouncements, I was only being half-serious when I originally said it. The first time I said it, it was to an older relative who had just forced me to sit through a 20 minute performance of I’ll Fly Away. The second time I said it, it was to a friend who was really into Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, and all those commies After that, I found many excuses to say it because I was going to college that was renowned for its music program. It was one of those colleges where you couldn’t turn a corner without potentially running into someone who was taking a class in folk music. They were always a bit annoying. For folkies, it wasn’t enough to tell you that their music was better than your music. They also had to tell you why listening to the Weavers on scratchy vinyl made them better human beings than you.

That said, I was never totally serious about folk music being the music of evil people. That seemed like a far more appropriate thing to say about prog rock. But, having watched All You Need Is Death, I’m now not so sure. Folk music may very well be evil.

All You Need Is Death tells the story of Anna (Simone Collins) and Aleks (Charlie Maher), a couple who live in Dublin. Anna is a gifted singer and, when we first see the two of them, Anna and Aleks appear to be deeply in love. They work for an academic named Agnes (Catherine Siggins), whose goal is to find the oldest known versions of various folk songs. Their work brings them to an apparently demented old woman named Rita (Olwen Fouere), who is rumored to know a song that is in a language the predates the Irish language. Rita reveals that she does indeed know the song, which was apparently inspired by a romantic betrayal and a brutal death. She explains that the song has been passed down from one woman to another over the centuries. It can never be recorded and men are not allowed to hear the song. After Aleks excuses himself, Rita sings the song to Anna. As they drive back home, Anna tries to sing the song from memory but struggles, which isn’t surprising considering that the song isn’t even in a living language. However, they’re stopped by Agnes who reveals that she secretly recorded Rita singing. Meanwhile, Rita is herself gruesomely murdered by a mysterious force.

Things get progressively stranger from there, as Anna finds herself being targeted by Rita’s unhinged son (Nigel O’Neill) and Anna and Alek’s previously blessed relationship suddenly seems to be cursed. There’s even a touch of Cronenbergian body horror as the film plays out. The film’s plot is not always easy to follow and that’s not a bad thing. This is one of those horror films that works because the audience never feels quite secure in their understanding of what they’re seeing. The story plays out at its own pace, putting an emphasis on atmosphere over easy shocks and jump scares. It’s about as close to a filmed dream as the viewer is likely to find. It’s a horror film that sticks with you after the end credits role. You’ll never listen to another folk song.