Fifty Dead Men Walking

Understanding Martin McGartland

This explosive genre-buster about Ireland's '80s-era "troubles"
centered in the town of Belfast, drills deep down into the true story
of controversial IRA figure Martin McGartland (brilliantly played by
Jim Sturges). McGartland worked as an undercover "tout" for the
occupying British forces. The film's odd title refers roughly to the
number of lives saved by McGartland's efforts, even though it meant
eventually sending him on the run for the rest of his own life. Ben
Kingsley delivers a thoroughly captivating performance as Fergus, a
British Special Branch intelligence agent who mentors Martin through
the ranks of the IRA, all the while undermining many of the
organization's attempted attacks. Writer/director Kari Skogland ("Stone
Angel") based the fast-paced film on Martin McGartland's biographical
book of the same title and manages to balance the material's intrinsic
political conflict and suspense while getting inside the conflicted
psyches of its main characters. There's a great filmmaker at work here
and plenty of impressive supporting performances from the likes of
Natalie Press (as Martin's girlfriend Lara), Kevin Zegers (as Martin's
best friend Sean), and Rose McGowan (as IRA femme fatal Grace).

Topics
don't come much hotter than the British occupation of Northern Ireland.
You'd be hard-pressed to find someone to express any kind of
pro-British opinion on the matter, even as the British Empire have
since then become completely subordinate to US imperialism that's been
busy committing far greater reaching atrocities than the Brits did in
Belfast, in Afghanistan and Iraq. The genius of "Fifty Dead Men
Walking" is the emotional connection it makes between the IRA's
desperate fight for freedom, as viewed through Sean's eyes, and the
British Military, as humanized by Fergus, and Martin, whose neutral
abilities as a opportunist con man allow him entree into all worlds.
The audience is allowed to empathize with multiple sides of a very
complex issue via transparent characters locked in a tense ideological
war. An ever looming question about the British military's integrity,
as eventually lined up against Fergus's sincere promises to Martin,
plays out in a display of narrative realism that doesn't moderate the
British military's viciousness as equal to that of the IRA.

In
response to the ever-present condition of thick Irish accents spoken at
full tempo, Kari Skogland generously uses subtitles throughout the film
to reinforce the film's quicksilver, multi-layered plot. Compared with
the currently released "Baader Meinhof Complex," which carries a
similar theme of terrorist activity, "Fifty Dead Men Walking" throws
down a heavy trump card because of the effortless way it substantiates
its characters. At the heart of the story is a romantic connection
between Martin and Lara. The birth of their first child is handled in
such a way, with Fergus offering Martin a swig of whiskey outside of
Lara's hospital room, that we get a organic surge of thematic import
that doesn't substitute sentimentalism for emotional truth. The scene
puts Lara in the audience's mind without showing her. In the situation,
as with every other one that the actors share, Jim Sturges and Ben
Kingsley play off one another with a familial receptivity that
completes a circle of social encounter, toward explaining Martin's
willingness to work as a traitor for a father figure that he trusts.
There's a lot to understand–politically and emotionally–about Martin
McGartland. Kari Skogland's film makes it happen with muscle, brains,
and loins.