A Love Divided

Occasionally somewhat drab, and erring on the side of over-earnestness, A Love Divided is nevertheless one of the more heartfelt and instructive films to emerge from this isle in recent years.

Part love-story and part history-lesson, the film is based on the true-life events in the Wexford village of Fethard-on-Sea in 1957, when a happy and religiously-mixed marriage was thrown into turmoil by the Catholic Church's dogmatic insistence that the couple's daughter be brought up in the Catholic faith, against the wishes of the kid's mother. The furore triggered a sequence of events that led to a shameful Church-orchestrated boycott of Protestant homes, businesses and individuals, which only died down when the matter began to attract international attention and became something of an embarrassment for the Government of the day.

The incident has been largely forgotten, although the likes of Eoghan Harris - desperate for any tiny shred of ammunition to prove their thesis that the South is a fascist state too - still refer to it incessantly at every given opportunity.

For all that, there's no doubt that the subject deserves a movie, and Love Divided is a well-intentioned, schmaltz-free and classily-acted affair. Liam Cunningham plays Sean Cloney, the uncomplicated husband, with Orla Brady as the strong-willed wife, and the pair of them do the tale ample justice, never once piling on the over-dramatics or indulging in easy-option tearjerking. The film's standout, though, without any doubt, is veteran stage actor Tony Doyle, who portrays the bloody-minded parish priest Father Stafford, as a stunningly loathsome, pigheaded prick who stops just short of being a monster, but still manages to chill the blood with a number of superbly-pitched fire-and-brimstone speeches that ring long in the memory.

It's a simple tale, simply and effectively told, which will hardly shake up the film world or pack in the thrill-seeking Friday-night crowd, but it's as worthy as they come, and few who watch it will have any cause for regret.

One particularly pleasing performance comes from Peter Caffrey, who plays the village publican as a liberally-minded atheist who sides with the family in the controversy (at some cost to himself) and verbally lashes a gang of dimwitted sectarian goons with the immortal putdown: "I fought for this country in 1916 - and lookin' at you shower o'shites, I wonder if it was worth it."

For this and may other reasons, A Love Divided is worth a look in what must be one of the worst fortnights for film in living memory.