Movie Review: The Boys and Girl from County Clare

Recall Bring it On: rival cheerleaders, lots of energy, not much of a plot. Now, replace the cheerleading competition with céilí, a form of traditional Irish music. And instead of the squad leaders’ rivalry resulting from some quasi-racial socio-economic tensions, imagine the competitors are brothers, reunited after a thirty-year estrangement because they disapprove of each others’ life choices.

Such is the initial setup of The Boys and Girl from County Clare. John Joe (Bernard Hill), the reigning céilí champion who never left home, must face his younger brother Jimmy’s (Colm Meaney) up-and-coming band from Liverpool at a music competition in 1960s County Clare. Throw in some gentle subterfuge and a romance between the most talented members of the rival groups.

Clare strives to be a touching story about changing times as portrayed through music in the Old Country, but it comes up disappointingly short. Initially, it is hard to work out what element is to blame, since the cast’s performance is superb.

Meaney manages to portray Jimmy with both the hardened veneer of a country boy who has made it in the big world and the aw-shucks-ness little brothers almost necessarily possess. Hill is the wizened Irish grandfather we all wish we could have to tell us stories by a roaring fire. And Andrea Corr, lead singer for the internationally acclaimed pop/rock/Celtic group the Corrs, bucks the trend of musicians-turned-bad-actresses: she is absolutely stunning as Anne, the reigning band’s gifted fiddler.

Likewise, the music is fantastic. Céilí can be both upbeat and solemn, but in Clare it’s almost exclusively the former, a lively combination of flutes, fiddles, and bodhráns (a cross between a drum and tambourine) that makes it impossible not to tap your feet. Céilí is what binds the film, and the families, together.

The story begins in the rehearsal rooms of the two brothers, one in a pub in the quiet hills of western Ireland, the other by the rowdy streets of Liverpool. The scenes are as different as can be, if not for the melodies playing in both. Céilí follows the groups on their respective journeys to the contest and the various characters and challenges encountered along the way. The music may be unfamiliar to most viewers, but its rhythm and energy have universal appeal—as the film humorously shows.

Thus, the script must be the culprit. Clare attempts to come off as a fable, a timeless tale of family ties in a changing world. Since the story is one already deeply entrenched inside us, screenwriters allow for a painfully predictable plot. Unfortunately, the assumption fails and the writing comes off as formulaic and superficial. Lines like “I don’t want you ruining your life the way I did,” spoken to Anne by her bitter mother Maisie (Charlotte Bradley), sound like they would be better placed in daytime television. And the film’s end, full of morals like John Joe’s “when you got music, you got friends for life,” becomes intolerably preachy and unbelievably sappy.

There are glimpses of touching authenticity in Clare, such as Anne’s reaction to a revelation about her past and John Joe’s relationship with Maisie, a woman he has long loved from afar. These characters are ordinary people, inherently flawed but attempting to get by as best they can. Ultimately however, isolated insightfulness and a great score cannot add up to much of a salvation to writing this unoriginal. Clare can’t offer the younger set much more than a glance at Woodstock’s (much) tamer Irish equivalent. Go for the céilí if you must, and to see Andrea Corr in action, but don’t expect much else.

—Staff writer Jayme J. Herschkopf can be reached at herschk@fas.harvard.edu.