A War of Children

This made-for-TV movie is set in the time period it was made (1972), telling the story of two Northern Ireland families, one Protestant and one Catholic, who have managed, in spite of their different backgrounds, to become friends. Yet they must still struggle against ancient hatreds that have divided their communities and their island -- to the extent that they must maintain their friendship in secret and away from their respective neighborhoods. Despite their efforts, that friendship is gradually eroded by enmity and fear woven so deeply that, before long, it begins to engulf another generation.

Jenny Agutter is the daughter of the Catholic family who finds romance with a British soldier, played by a very young Anthony Andrews. Despite these familiar faces, though, the mostly-Irish cast and the location filming give this movie a deep sense of authenticity. Ultimately, it's a heartbreaking story that pulls no punches -- made all the more poignant because, after so many years, Northern Ireland still has found no lasting peace.

I understand the criticisms of some of the reviewers. I lived in Miami during the TV series Miami Vice and we used to laugh at some of the ridiculous and unrealistic happenings, particularly the geographical inconsistencies, treating Miami Beach and Miami as one location. However, I am fine with artistic liberties. If I desire perfect realism/history, I watch a documentary or read a book, and I doubt the film could've been made in Northern Ireland in 1972. Did Bert's crummy cockney accent ruin Mary Poppins? For me, the extreme power of the story completely overrode any illogical inconsistencies. I very much enjoyed the film, and cried buckets at several points (which, since I am a notorious watering pot, that may not be such a big deal!) I saw the film on TV in 1972 (or 73) and was quite moved by it. I would definitely recommend it. The acting of every single character was superb! My only criticism is that the film itself hasn't aged well; the copy I saw was very grainy and at times, difficult to hear dialogue.

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.

I have not seen this movie in over thirty years and yet I can never forget the ending of this movie.As an African-American,I did not find anything to laugh about in this movie with all the discrepancies and inaccuracies that a few reviewers have mentioned. That the British soldiers' uniform may not have been accurate or where the movie was actually shot were not issues that mattered to me while watching this movie. There may have been some illogical plot twists in this movie but overall, the movie achieved its main point of how war affects children.I only remember how such a thing as hate can destroy people's lives and of course, that children are the first casualties.This movie first made me aware of the troubles in Ireland.I was impressed by the acting of the young actors.

To use the word "authenticity" on the same page as this piece of doggerel is either a travesty of the truth or a betrayal of the writer's ignorance. I saw it in 1973, when it was on general release in Dublin, and the audience laughed with derision throughout.

To begin with the detail, it was filmed in Dublin, with Dublin buses careering around the background. The setting could have been made believable with care, but it was a low budget production and reeked of cheapness all the way through.

The characters, for the most part, had Southern Irish accents (Yes, we do speak differently up North). What's worse, they were lazy stereotypes; stage Oirish from start to finish (of which, more later). The police and army were stage villains, worthy of pantomime. The RUC were shown beating the heroic republican prisoners with blackthorn sticks. If this was shorthand, it was unreadable. The young soldier who fell in love with Jenny Agutter's west Belfast girl, was shown borrowing a Land-Rover to drive himself around Belfast, alone and unarmed. If this is authenticity, I've clearly been on drugs for 30 years.

The finale was particularly risible. The oppressed prisoners were being transferred by armoured car and truck, across misty, high moorland, to another, probably more oppressive, concentration camp, when, out of the mist, a toothless crone appeared, clad in the obligatory shawl (everybody in Belfast wore them in the 70s, don'tchaknow). She stumbled in front of the lead armoured car, to be hailed by the villainous British officer (they're all villains - ask Mel Gibson), with words to the effect of "I say there old crone, get out of the bally way". She replied with a stereotypical Belfast riposte to British officers: "Oi'm sorry yer honour". At this point, hordes of people streamed down the mountainside and rescue the heroic prisoners.

Yes folks. It happened just like that in real life. I'm from Northern Ireland originally. I only left 7 years ago. So I can vouch for its authenticity. Even the Dublin audience could see how true to life it was. As my mother used to say, "I haven't laughed as many since I was a children".