A thriller about an IRA gunman who draws an American family into the crossfire of terrorism. Frankie McGuire is one of the IRA's deadliest assassins. But when he is sent to the U.S. to buy weapons, Frankie is housed with the family of Tom O'Meara, a New York cop who knows nothing about Frankie's real identity. Their surprising friendship, and Tom's growing suspicions, force Frankie to choose between the promise of peace or a lifetime of murder.Written by
Robert Lynch <email@example.com>
I saw this ridiculous nonsense on NBC five years ago, chopped up for telecast, and so bad that two hours of advertisements for furniture at Penney's and previews of Friends (or reading the bloviating message boards for this movie) would have been better. The story is so much pro-terrorist Hollyweird mush with Brad Pitt as a killer-looking IRA gunman hiding out in America while speaking some sort of language loosely based on English and Harrison Ford, grumpy and spikey-haired, wearing a policeman's uniform, slowly--very slowly, mind you--figuring out that there's a bad man living in his basement.
Even with the bloodletting trimmed for telecast and the inherent fragmentation of television working for you, not against you, you get the feeling that everyone involved, including the late, great Alan J. Pakula, would rather forget this bloody, incomprehensible, incoherent junk. Once again, the Left Coast has turned a complex, grey-shaded, and achingly tragic issue into a cutesy-wretched, terrorists-are-just-misunderstood, amoral mess.
Skip it however it comes.
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