When
Irish Sunday-Independent journalist Veronica Guerin was assassinated
in Dublin in 1996, victim of the drug traffickers she threatened to
expose, the world sat up and took notice. Ireland, plagued by
poverty and by a criminal element intent upon exploiting and preying
upon their poorer brethren, was in the midst of one of the worst
drug sieges in its famine-riddled history. Some fifteen thousand a
day shot heroin; eight kids under the age of fifteen died in one
neighborhood alone - all in short order. The bottom-feeders who made
a profit from this miserable plight held no guilt, no remorse - only
the desire to reap the bounty at any price.
Veronica
Guerin, whose life has also been chronicled on film in When the
Sky Falls, which starred Joan Allen, and who received mention in
John Boorman¹s powerful movie about Martin Cahill, The General,
changed Ireland¹s lackadaisical drug laws. But it took her death to
do it. Director Joel Schumacher, who initially seems too Hollywood
polish to pull off such a charged crusader story - unless you recall
the political bent of his films Tigerland and Falling Down
(and overlook the populist histrionics of Dying Young and St.
Elmo¹s Fire) - does it on the straight and narrow in this Jerry
Bruckheimer-produced film.
It¹s
an arthouse attempt at legitimacy for Bruckheimer, who is better
known for action and war fare. Veronica Guerin is a gritty,
smart, tumultuous telling of Guerin¹s pugnacious pluck and courage
- a force that gave her a radiance and seductive charm which
ingratiated her to some of her underworld snitches and sources.
Cate
Blanchett¹s in the lead as Veronica Guerin, a tireless, relentless
woman with a devoted husband, son and mother - and a gaggle of
newspaper associates who either hate, love or envy her tough style
and ability to ferociously go where no other reporter would dare
venture.
Guerin,
tired of writing the female fashion story, "wants to make a
difference" once she glimpses the dire straits of Dublin¹s
mean streets firsthand: toddlers¹ toys consist of broken, diseased
syringes that litter the loins of the filthy slums. Mothers suckle
their infants while shooting up; a stench and vomit-stained, burned
out squat is visited daily by pushers - just long enough for their
gleaming new Mercedes to catch a hint of dust and who work for John
Gilligan (Gerard McSorley). In synchronized rotation they peel five
pound notes off each lost soul dying for a daily fix. "How many
five pound notes do you have to get to get a new Mercedes?"
cracks Guerin.
But
John Gilligan is a dead dangerous silent man pulling the strings
behind a drape of betrayals and butchery. He¹s a wizard of odds who
wants to remain a behind-the-scenes enigma. Veronica, tired of being
led down clue cul-de-sacs and weary of chasing the wrong criminals
meets her match in this ex-con thug who fancies himself a
sophisticate but instead is an immoral, bloated murderer who thinks
nothing of dispensing rivals like "General" Martin Cahill,
whom he orders shot to death in front of his own house. The
"c--t" reporter Guerin, who threatens his lavish
lifestyle, is a thorn in his side.
Blanchett
brings a ferocity that is formidable to Veronica, as well as a
playful spunk and lifeforce that sometimes chills with its
narrow-mindedness. Her seductive play with John "The
Coach" Traynor (Ciaran Hinds), a pimp who is tied to Gilligan
and feeds Veronica her leads - is fearlessly brazen. Blanchett is,
as always, the film¹s anchor and keel, keeping its dark digressions
into the drug netherworld on course with her abilty to inhabit
Guerin, not simply act her. As playful a mother, daughter and wife
as she is a stalwart reporter, she never allows affection to stand
in the way of her campaign. Blanchett isn¹t afraid to play Guerin
as a sometimes selfish, self-centered. sloppily loving woman who is
immersed in finding the truth - to the slight of her family¹s well
being. Yet Blanchett¹s intelligence keeps us hanging in there over
a character who is, in her ambitious quest, often less than
sympathetic.
Schumacher
instills a pervasive sense of dread into Veronica¹s reckless
crusade. Because we¹re enticed and admire her pluck we wait,
worried and nearly nauseous, knowing some violence will be
inflicted. Inflicted it is in a wrenching scene when she negligently
corners Gilligan in his own backyard and he beats her with
unflinching hatred and fear, violating her safety in a way that
curdles our stomachs because the stench of that hate and fear is
palpably real.
Still,
the film is not without its heart. One aching scene shows Veronica¹s
lovingly no-nonsense mother Bernie (Brenda Fricker) walking with her
grandson. He spies mom on the side of the metro bus: "A life
under threat," it reads, next to a blow-up of Veronica who,
having survived a bullet in the leg, has become a celebrity in her
own right. The sadness of the inevitable crosses Fricker¹s face: it¹s
a moment of supreme portent and omen, a realization of things to
come, crimped with the pain over the fact that those who love Guerin
are still powerless to stop this martyr in the making.
Review by Carrie Gorringe · Nitrate Online
