REVIEW - JIMMY'S HALL (KEN LOACH)

If there's one reason not to see Ken Loach's Jimmy's Hall, it's that this film contains the unfortunate image of a pasty Irish fellow showing off a bit of jazz dancing. If there's one reason to see it, though, it's that it also contains the image of a delightful old Irish lady in a cottage, making tea for the bullish policemen who've arrived to arrest her son. She locks them inside the house. Human comedy, a strong sense of community and conflict therein, and cinema's finest moral and political compass combine to form the latest (and last, supposedly) Loach feature. The trouble might be, however, that the above words could be applied to the majority of this veteran filmmaker's works. It wouldn't be such a bother that he's done all of this before and better, were that not so apparent. Loach's fixation this time is the travails of a group of people in 1930s Co. Leitrim to keep a local hall, used for classes and ceilidhs alike, open, against the efforts of local bullies and zealots, fascists and clergymen. It's a noble venture, but in and of itself uninvolving and repetitive. Loach and frequent collaborator, screenwriter Paul Laverty, fragment their film, examining this rural community beyond the confines of their premise, and embellishing this struggle with a number of other events from this true story. In so doing, they wind up telling a lot of little tales, each with similar purposes and similar outcomes. Points are established early and repeated often, and while no right-minded person could mount an earnest defence against these points, we don't need reminded of them when their repercussions resonate through the film regardless, and when they're made with such clarity and simplicity. What virtues Loach and Laverty bring to their films by nature of being involved still shine, though. They coax super, emotionally supple performances from their cast, and Loach seals his reputation as an expert at pulling one's heartstrings without making one hate him for it - watch as he pushes you to outrage, then to tears, then to laughter, and always to care.