The Butcher Boy
(Le boucher garcon)

Neil Jordan is Ireland's answer to David Lynch, a darkly surreal 
commentarist steeped in the myth and consumer culture of his 
childhood. He broke into the collective unconscious with the 
darkly surreal "twist" of the CRYING GAME, added lush erotic 
fervor to INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE and then dulled the presses 
with the ambitious MICHAEL COLLINS. Now he pulls back his reins 
to bring us this delicious saga of one irrepressible (and 
occasionally homicidal) boy in a small 1950's era Ireland town. 
The result is somehow soothing and disturbing at the same time. 
Think HEAVENLY CREATURES only with one psychotic Irish boy 
instead of two psychotic New Zeleand girls, and tempered with a 
less frenetic, more bucolic, sort of pace. 

The wee fella of the title, Francie, has a crazy mom and a 
drunken pop, a best friend who is worried about his escalating 
sociopathy, and an arch enemy in the form of a snooty neighbor 
woman. As the film progresses, he begins to lose his hold on all 
of them, and his sense of reality slips, further damaged by comic 
books, science fiction films, and the ever present threat of 
nuclear war. The psychological strain resulting from the "red 
menace" has very rarely been captured in period cinema as 
evocatively as it is here, symbolized in several interesting 
"fantasy" sequences that illuminate the protagonists mental 
outlook without ever making his degeneration overtly obvious. 
It is to his immense credit that Jordan allows the proceedings 
to devlop without acting pyrotechics, scenery chewing or 
ominous music.

Eamonn Owens as the "boy" is impressively cheery, strutting 
through the film with the irrepressible cheek of a Marx Brother, 
and the film is never depressing or obvious in its depiction of 
his breakdown. The result is a truly original, funny and 
horrifying work that will likely endure as a cult classic in 
years to come.

RATING: ***1/2