Category: St. Patrick’s Day

WILLOW, SIX

Is it fair to call Willow (1988) a St. Patrick’s Day film? There’s nothing particularly Irish about it at first glance. However . . . The brownies are small and puckish, like leprechauns. Fairies flit about. The baby who plays Elora Danan wears a red wig. (Heh.) Something about the tone of the movie feels appropriate for the holiday. Well, that’s what I proclaim, and let us proceed accordingly.

Who is our eponymous hero, the young and earnest Willow?

He’s a family man, a farmer, with a dream to become a wizard’s apprentice. His children and his wife rescue a mysterious baby from the river. Although he’s worried, he accepts the change in his fate Elora brings. He’ll need to make a trip to protect her, leaving his family behind.

In the village, Willow doesn’t envy his fellows. He wants to be picked to study with the wizard, but he doesn’t begrudge the other contestants. He’s not a Heart Type.

He’s also not a Body Type. He will never be one of his village’s warriors. He goes on the mission to return Elora because of responsibility and compassion, not for any pursuit of adventure or activity.

He’s a Six. That commitment to right and wrong drives him forward. It’s how he can hector Madmartigan, a large foreigner in a cage, without thinking of his own safety. He disrupts the evil plans of Bavmorda, despite his fear, because he loves Elora. He strives to transmorph Fin Raziel not because he will learn magic from her, but because she will help the baby.

Willow is a man who does his duty, quietly tilling the land, while dreaming of a different career (which is likely to never materialize). Sixes hold a longing that breaks my heart. 

Maybe that’s the reason it feels so Irish to me.

SEAN THORNTON, NINE

A professional boxer retired due to tragedy, Sean seeks retreat and peace. He’s an easy Nine.

The Quiet Man’s story is simple: Irish-American comes to the Old Country to settle and make a new life in his ancestral home. When he sees a lass tending sheep, he falls for her, makes “pattyfingers in the holy water” with her, and arranges to court her. Her belligerent brother keeps them apart over spite about the property, until he consents and later regrets it, holding his sister’s dowry after the marriage. Sean must eventually demand the money and make peace with his brother-in-law, which leads to a town-consuming brawl between the two of them. In the end they live happily ever after.

We hit a wall, though, when we get to the scene of him dragging his wife by the nape of her neck. Is something about this moment particularly Nine-ish? His avoidance of conflict — taking the brother’s verbal ridicule, watching his volatile wife demand her things about her — might lead to a man who’s had enough and overreacts as a result. If he’s driven to take action, though, just give him a different action to take. The key to this whole movie is the moment when Sean pursues his wife to the train station and returns with her to town.

Continue reading “SEAN THORNTON, NINE”

MARY KATE DANAHER, FOUR

The Quiet Man still has a lot to love. The couple riding in the matchmaker’s cart and escaping into the Irish countryside is charming. When she shelters against his wet, white shirt, it’s one of the more romantic moments ever put on film. The beautiful horse race on the beach, the Playfairs jovially riding their two-person bicycle through town, Father Lonergan battling with his fishing — all wonderful to watch. I can (and do) quote Michaleen Flynn all day.

However, Mary Kate dragged by her husband through the fields nullifies everything else. I can’t say how that scene played in 1952, but today it’s offensive. 

When we strip away the baggage, this love story is simple. She’s a Four and he’s a Nine, a classic combination. She’s passionate and quick-tempered, having all the feelings for the both of them. He’s laid back, able to disengage from much that riles her. Perhaps as a Four, an open book to all of the village, one more degrading moment doesn’t shame her? Perhaps his display of feelings, no matter how ugly, reassures her of his love?

Nope, it’s all the language of abuse. It’s an unnecessary scene — the intent is quite clear without pulling a woman through sheep dung — that could be reworked, making a movie that is watchable today. I hate to see classic filmmaking consigned to the dustbin. John Ford made his choices, though, and today’s audience will judge accordingly.

DARBY O’GILL, TWO

The man who has truck with the wee folk. Don’t be puttin’ the come-hither on me, now. Who doesn’t want to watch this Disney classic and speak in fake Irish?

Darby is no con man. He genuinely can see and negotiate with the King of the Leprechauns. However, Darby is so intrigued by the fairy world that he seems like a flake. He doesn’t do much work, he’s too busy scheming for his three wishes. He procrastinates and socializes. The only time he jumps is when the priest needs someone to retrieve the church bell.

Ah, Darby is such a Two. His collection — an identifying feature of a Man Two — is leprechaun lore. His knowledge and sharing of it are what make him so beloved at the pub.

He has a kind heart but he’s no businessman. He putters, trimming the hedge here, poaching a rabbit there. Service to the Church, though, moves him. The notion that the music of the bell belongs to him makes him tear up. 

A fixture of the community, both human and fairy. Two.