I watched this film in 1973, in Dublin, as I waited for a flight to New York. It was laughable on every level. Firstly, the accents were all over the place. Those that actually sounded Irish wandered at least 100 miles south of Belfast; well into the Republic of Ireland. The acting was stage Oirish at its worst. Plotting was sublimely inauthentic, with Anthony Andrews' soldier borrowing military vehicles to visit Jenny Agutter up the Falls Road; acts which would have brought his romance to an abrupt end. The IRA prisoners were rescued from the evil Brits when an ancient crone, straight from the potato famine, teleported into the late 20th century and stepped out in front of the armed convoy, responding to the imperious complaint of the chief Brit with the immortal line "Sorry yer honour".
The location shots were so obviously Dublin, right down to the green corporation buses, that when Anthony Andrews left the post-coital bed in his rented love nest, opened the curtains and said, "You can see the river from here", a loud Dublin voice shouted "It's probably the ****** Liffey!" He brought the house down.
See it for a laugh. Thirty three years later, it's still fresh in this viewer's mind.
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