Primary navigation

UK/France/USA 1998
Reviewed by Kevin Maher
Our synopses give away the plot in full, including surprise twists.
Ireland, the town of Tullymore. Jackie O'Shea learns that the winner of the Irish lottery is one of the town's 52 residents. Together with wife Annie and friend Michael, he scrutinises the villagers for sudden changes in fortune. Jackie throws a party for Tullymore's 18 regular lottery players. Only 17 attend; Jackie deduces missing guest Ned Devine is the winner.
Jackie and Michael visit Ned's house and find him in front of the television, dead from shock, holding on to the winning ticket. After noticing Ned has signed the ticket, Michael decides to pretend to be Ned. They phone the lottery board.
Single-parent Maggie declines pig-farmer Finn's offer of marriage. A lottery agent collects the ticket from Michael and announces that he will return in a couple of days to verify Michael's identity with the locals. Jackie informs the community, and promises to split the jackpot among them if they will help with the ruse. All agree except for aged resident Lizzy Quinn. The agent returns during the funeral of Ned Devine but is duped by the townsfolk. At Ned's wake Maggie agrees to marry Finn, but tells Jackie that Ned was her son Maurice's father. Lizzy Quinn is killed in an accident as she tries to inform the lottery of the deception.
From the opening screech of composer Shaun Davey's romantic uilleann pipes to a closing aerial retreat into magical Celtic mists, Waking Ned is firmly at the mercy of market forces. Writer-director Kirk Jones has fashioned the movie shamelessly for a US audience that is both familiar and comfortable with the film's vision of a bucolically idealised Ireland. Although distributors Fox are emphasising Waking Ned's 'feelgood' factor, linking it to their other regional hit The Full Monty, the movie has none of the latter's socio-political complexity, and not enough dramatic weight of its own to counter its over-played Oirishry. The central blarneyism in Waking Ned is the rustic idyll of Tullymore itself - the screen Irish village in extremis. Here, lost to a derivative cinematic legacy stretching from John MacDonagh's sentimental love story Willy Reilly and his Colleen Bawn (1918) through the Bing Crosby comedy Top o' the Morning (1949), right up to recent efforts like Hear My Song, Jones presents an isolated community of aged characters seemingly free from the compunction to work, and easily tempted into playful alcoholism.
Tullymore's closest movie relative in this respect is the mythical town of Inisfree in John Ford's The Quiet Man (1952). Both films are rigorously apolitical, beyond the grasp of twentieth-century ideologies, and both feature villages that view the approach of modernity - mechanised farming in The Quiet Man, lottery hoopla in Waking Ned - as an opportunity to revel in their own sheltered community values. The fact that Waking Ned was actually filmed on the Isle of Man merely adds to this awkwardly synthetic sense of place.
So rigid are the parameters of this universe that when problematic emotional relationships are introduced, such as the one between single-parent Maggie and her simple suitor Finn, or the slightly sinister interest Father Patrick takes in Maggie's son Maurice, they are turned into wearisome farce or, in the latter case, dropped completely. Even the movie's pivotal relationship of veterans Jackie and Michael, which very occasionally echoes Beckett's decrepit and mutually dependent Vladimir and Estragon, is generally treated as fodder for punchlines. Though actors Ian Bannen and David Kelly attack their roles with gusto, neither of them gets far away from a poor impression of the stereotypical Irishman that Hollywood character actor Barry Fitzgerald specialised in in the 30s and 40s, especially when gloating twinkle-eyed over such lines as: "Murder is a mighty word to be usin' at this time o' night, so it is."
Formally, Jones displays an understated journeyman's control throughout. He gets maximum value from his aerial shots - the movie teems with swooping passes over verdant fields. And despite a simple shooting style, he executes the demise of Lizzy Quinn - crosscut with the festivities at Ned's wake - with Godfather-like flair. Ultimately though, with his heavy recourse to received conventions, Jones sells Waking Ned's brand of Irish whimsy as he once sold Mercedes or Absolut Vodka (he worked for ad company Saatchi & Saatchi). What is genuinely regretful is that with the likes of writers Roddy Doyle and Conor McPherson, and such films as the recent eviscerating Southpaw as available reference points, he chose to work from such a creatively bankrupt tradition in the first place.