On paper, here is a story that has more guts and drama than Karen Silkwood’s and Erin Brockovich’s put together: on the screen, however, the result is appalling. I don’t understand how this could happen. Such is Blanchett’s appeal, she could play Hitler in drag and make you fall in love with the character. And Schumacher has been responsible for some great gritty dramas (Falling Down) and edgy tales (Tigerland). But I can’t help believing that, had Guerin lived to see this film, she would have blushed at its tabloid sensationalism, winced at its relentless sentimentality and wept at its disregard for facts.
The film opens with Guerin’s murder and flashes back to how she reached that point of no return. We see her visiting a drug-infested estate. Schumacher opts for an over-the-top Dickensian vision of pale, scabby, smacked-out urchins with panda eyes crashed out in a Hieronymus Bosch-like hell. Small children play with discarded needles like exotic treats from Santa. On the soundtrack, violins weep and wail to hammer home the sadness of it all.
As these poor, dragon-chasing children of the damned wait for their daily fix, Guerin watches the villains arrive and deliver their evil fare to their hungry victims. Moved by their plight, she decides she is going to get the hidden and high-level criminals behind this trade. This involves entering into the dangerous and seedy world of Dublin’s gangland. Here, at least, Schumacher manages to give us gangsters without any whiff of glamour. Gerard McSorley is excellent as the thuggish Mr Big, John Gilligan, and Ciaran Hinds turns in a perfect performance as low-lifer John Traynor.
I have no idea what the real Guerin was like, and after watching this film, I still don’t. Schumacher doesn’t give us a complex woman: what we get is a cardboard martyr who, at times, seems incredibly sanctimonious and a little snobbish. In one unintentionally revealing scene, some of her colleagues are planning to have a drink with fellow hacks in the pub. But no, Ms Sensitive Crusader doesn’t want to drink with these frivolous journalists because they gossip and bitch — just like ordinary people. Guerin’s clumsy dialogue is full of self-congratulatory speechifying. At one point, she says: “I love my work — the chance to make a difference.” Hey, so do I, but I don’t blow my own trumpet like that.
If she had shown a little self-deprecation, this Guerin would have been a more appealing figure.
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You can’t help thinking, from watching this version, that Guerin got into a lot of unnecessary trouble because she assumed her celebrity status would protect her from star-struck criminals. She actually turns up at the home of Gilligan without any protection, and starts to accuse him of all sorts of crimes. He proceeds to beat her up, and it’s a brutal scene to watch. But what did she expect a violent thug like Gilligan to do — invite her in for a cup of tea and a tell-all confession? Then there’s the film’s veracity. If you’re going to make a movie about a crusader after the truth, you have an obligation to stick to the facts. Gilligan is presented as the Mr Big of the heroin trade, even though he has never been found guilty of dealing in that drug: in fact, he was sentenced to 28 years for dealing cannabis.
But most disappointing is Blanchett. Yes, the Irish accent is spot-on, but that’s about all. It’s a very surface performance — she relies on cutesy smiles and her charm instead of digging deep into the character. The whole film is a simplistic black-and-white morality tale that has nothing interesting to say, other than that selling heroin to children is bad, and it’s good to be brave. When a journalist puts the safety of her family at risk for the sake of her story, is she a crusader, a careerist, or both? The film never really tackles the issue.
Schumacher doesn’t try to tug at your heartstrings — he tears them out, sautés them in schmaltz, smothers them in Celtic sadness, then shoves them back down your throat. Surely, the real Veronica Guerin deserved better.
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Veronica Guerin, 18, 98 mins, One star