This film has been called "torture porn" and that's not unfair. If you really get into watching naked men wallowing in their own shit, being beaten by cruel prison guards and slowly starving to death with intense close-ups of bloody sores, vomit, etc., then this is is a gift from heaven.
For the rest of us watching the film was torture...a gruesome ordeal that I had to force myself to finish. You don't have to persuade me at this point that the Brits were truly monstrous toward the Irish for 500 years, especially by shoving my face directly into the muck of their domination. Most non-anglophiles know this.
So who was this made for? The Brits themselves? Have they been shielded from the behavior of their muscle?
There was one fine scene, mostly done with no cuts, static camera, of a conversation between Bobby Sands and a priest that was a blessed relief from the graphic abuse and a display of subtle acting technique but it stood out like a raisin in a sea of sludge.
4
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