Omagh

A deeply moving account of the 1998 bombing of Omagh by the Real IRA and its aftermath. The film focuses on the struggle of the families of the victims to obtain justice in the face of puzzling official indifference.

Gerard McSorley's performance as Michael Gallagher, the chairman of the families group, is extraordinary. It is reminiscent in its intensity and emotional range of Jack Lemmon in Missing. McSorley deserves to win every award for which he is eligible and it is unlikely that a better performance will be seen on film this year.

When so much film making glorifies those who perpetrate slaughter across the world this film demonstrates the real heroism of victims of violence coming to terms with grief, rebuilding their lives and refusing to be ignored by the powerful.

Superb.

The most salient fact about this TV movie is that its two hours' running time includes 65 speaking parts. Torn between focusing on one or two human stories behind Northern Ireland's worst terrorist outrage and giving a panorama of the politics that led to it, the production settles for wheeling on almost every Ulster character actor you ever saw and others besides. Even an Oscar winner, Brenda Fricker, is in there somewhere, so she is: blink and you'll miss her.

This jittery kaleidoscope creates confusion and dissipates sympathy; as soon as we begin to dig into one victim's backstory, we're off at another tangent. Neither good art nor good commerce, such worthy exercises in the reconstruction of recent events fall between the stools of documentary and drama.

Like many, "Omagh" is shot in "swivelvision" in the common but quite mistaken belief that this makes it look more "real"-- as though documentarists had never learned to use Steadicam. It tiptoes delicately through the minefield of libel that bedevils moveimakers trying to portray unresolved situations: a title at the end tells us that the suspected bombers all deny involvement, so there is no catharsis to be obtained by showing them going to jail. Making us feel sorry for the bereaved is easy meat; but like many an American "issue" movie, all this one will generate in viewers outside Northern Ireland is smug relief at being hors de combat.

I never heard of Peter Travis prior to "Omagh" but the direction in this film deserves more than equal billing with Gerard McSorley, who stars the bereaved father who becomes chairman of the Omagh Support Group. The mounting tension at the start of the film as the bomb is positioned, the police are warned and the crowd on the High Street is herded to the spot where the explosion takes place is enough to take your breath away. It doesn't matter in the least that the accents are difficult for these American ears to understand at the film's beginning because you somehow know exactly what's happening at every moment. The frantic search for the missing son, the dawning realization that he has died, the intense grief, the formation of the Omagh Support Group with McSorley emerging as its leader, the effort to ensure that the investigation is pursued, the determination of the politicians that the incident not be allowed to derail "the peace process," the evasions and downright lies of the police, the mysterious emergence of the truth, the condemnation of police conduct by the police ombudswoman -- all are rendered with controlled intensity that never flags. One device that Travis and his cameraman use repeatedly to great effect is the extreme closeup in which a portion of the character's face is shown, framed usually at an artful angle that a skilled portrait photographer might adopt for a still picture. Those pictures capture the emotions of the characters with particular force. The tragedy of Omagh is brought alive to devastating effect. Don't let the fact that it was made for TV deter you from seeing this superb movie.

OMAGH

Aspect ratio: 1.78:1

Sound format: Dolby Digital

Unlike its voracious American counterpart, British TV is generally reticent about dramatizing true-life crimes and atrocities, fearful of causing public offence and generating protest in self-righteous tabloid newspapers. Writer-director Paul Greengrass (THE BOURNE SUPREMACY) has been negotiating this delicate minefield since 1994, producing some of the most compelling works in British TV history (including "Bloody Sunday" and THE MURDER OF STEPHEN LAWRENCE). And while he didn't direct OMAGH - an account of the search for justice following the Real IRA car bomb which exploded in the Irish market town of Omagh in August 1998 - his style is writ large over the entire production. Co-written by Greengrass and Guy Hibbert (SHOT THROUGH THE HEART), the film was directed by Pete Travis, a relative newcomer who distinguished himself in 2003 with his acclaimed TV drama HENRY VIII.

OMAGH focuses on Michael Gallagher (veteran actor Gerard McSorley), a quiet mechanic thrust into the media spotlight following his decision to pursue the shadowy figures who murdered his 21 year old son Aiden (along with so many others) on that dreadful afternoon. From the outset, the movie unspools with documentary precision, using hand-held cameras to enhance the sense of realism: The principal 'characters' are introduced in piecemeal fashion, via quick cuts from one scene to the next, but there's very little specific dialogue in the build-up to the explosion, in which 29 people died and hundreds were injured (primarily because the terrorist's vaguely worded tip-off led police to guide people directly into the bomb's immediate orbit), and the aftermath is reproduced in vivid detail. These difficult scenes are as sordid as they are necessary - the victims' relatives insisted on it - and the widespread grief which followed this appalling incident is depicted through the experiences of the remaining Gallagher family. McSorley's subsequent quest for justice leads him into contact with a wide variety of players, everyone from low-level police informants to some of Ireland's most prominent figures, only to find himself stonewalled by the politics of compromise. To date, no one has been tried for the Omagh bombing.

Respectful, honest and unemotional, this painful reminder of recent history simply records events as they occurred, without affectation or sensationalism. The acting is *peerless*, with McSorley a quiet tower of strength in the central role, matched every step of the way by Michèle Forbes as his distraught wife, and Brenda Fricker as police ombudsman Nuala O'Loan whose investigation into the Omagh inquiry uncovered a catalogue of errors and deceit. Campaigning television at its very best.

I do not believe I have ever seen a movie that more truthfully and compellingly captures tragedy than Pete Travis's Omagh.

Omagh tells the story of the 1998 Real IRA bombing that killed 29 people in the city of Omagh, Northern Ireland, and the aftermath that followed. Yet what endears me to this film is that this could have been any town, any family, any tragedy. The film is completely without frills. It is one of the few films I've seen that does not romanticize death and tragedy. It has no towering musical score telling your emotions where to go (there is no score at all, actually), no dramatic final words, no sanguine epitaphs. Instead, Travis shows us what the camera usually leaves out -- the dirty dishes after the funeral party has left your house, the ubiquitous reporters asking for pictures of the deceased, the kind but nuisance of a neighbor offering help when you just want to be left alone.

The technical aspects of the film were all very well done, as were the actors' performances. Everything about the film makes you feel as though you are looking through a window into what really happened at Omagh, rather than watching an screen adaptation of the events. Omagh is well worth a see.