The Boys And Girl From County Clare

If you’ve been aching for a twee diddle-de-di confection set in the depressingly prehistoric Ireland of the '60s, then The Boys And Girl From County Clare is guaranteed to float your boat like no flick since Waking Ned. All told, it has taken two years for John Irvin’s movie to get any kind of release here (all the Irish based distributors have passed) and watching this ridiculously quaint gallimaufry of Oirishisms, it’s easy to understand the general lack of enthusiasm.
A barely discernable plot sees estranged brothers Colm Meaney and Bernard Hill battling it out at a ceili contest while star fiddle player Andrea Corr takes up with a Liverpudlian lad and falls out with her mammy (improbably played by Charlotte Bradley). Hilarity does not ensue. Unless, that is, you’re inclined to guffaw at the sight of someone falling into water. When the lazy script wishes to indicate a moment of erotic tension, someone falls in the river. If things are getting tense, someone falls in the river. Should aliens invade (alas, they don’t) we can only guess what would happen. Kersplash.
Given the whimsical tone, one can forgive the bizarrely anachronistic representation of the era. (Inexplicably, campervans full of stereotyped American hippies appear, while most of the cast are dressed like they came from the office.) The banality is quite another matter. Though inarguably endowed with movie star looks, Ms. Corr struggles valiantly with lumpy dialogue and a dead-end plot. Even Charlotte Bradley – a lady who often brings to mind the Courtney Love line ‘Here comes a storm in the form of a girl’ – can’t sparkle from behind her thankless, muted role.
The filmmakers would undoubtedly stress ‘twas all in good fun, but if this represents their idea of high jinx and hilarity, I’d hate to think what their notion of electro shock therapy is.