The General Written and directed by John Boorman Starring Brendan Gleeson, Adrian Dunbar, Maria Doyle Kennedy, Angeline Ball and Jon Voight   A L S O_.T O D A Y Blue Glow Sammo in the slammer; Mark Hamill on "The Simpsons" "You've Got Mail" Reviewed by Laura Miller Nora Ephron's update of "The Shop Around the Corner" rails against corporate chain stores to predictably bland effect "The Prince of Egypt" Reviewed by Charles Taylor A kitschy cartoon epic that's not for kids -- or adults ___________________ Learn more about Irish history at barnesandnoble.com ___________________   Y E S T E R D A Y Safe Haven By Charles Taylor Director John Boorman talks about his new film, "The General," family values and his fascination with nonconformity (12/17/98)   R E C E N T_. M O V I E S Home Movies By Charles Taylor John Boorman's enchanted comedy "Where the Heart Is" sings the praises of hearth and home (12/14/98) "Shakespeare in Love" Reviewed by Laura Miller Ben Affleck upstages Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes in this clever but clichéd romantic comedy (12/11/98) "A Simple Plan" Reviewed by Charles Taylor Sam Raimi's first hard-hitting film offers a brutally realistic portrayal of what can happen when upright people take one wrong turn (12/11/98) "Star Trek: Insurrection" Reviewed by Andrew O'Hehir Nostalgia ain't what it used to be (12/11/98) Hope springs eternal By Edward Lewine Hope Davis talks about her upcoming features, "Mumford" and "Arlington Road," and why she's no Hollywood day-tripper (12/10/98)   BROWSE THE MOVIE ARCHIVES COLUMNS FEATURES REVIEWS INTERVIEWS S A L O N E M P O R I U M FREE! 12-ounce bag of Salon Blend with a purchase of $30 or more. While supplies last.

HEIST .SOCIETY With a mixture of humor and brutality, John Boorman's extraordinary film "The General" paints a dark portrait of Irish outlaw Martin Cahill. BY CHARLES TAYLOR | To the Dubliners who followed his exploits and cheered him on, Martin Cahill, the Irish career burglar known as "the General," was a Robin Hood figure who thumbed his nose at the police, the Catholic Church, Protestant paramilitaries and even the IRA, who gunned him down in 1994. He's a rebel, too, in John Boorman's extraordinary new film, "The General," but a fearsome one. Boorman has always been fascinated by myth and legend, and at one time, he might have celebrated Cahill simply as another of his rebellious nonconformists, a man unwaveringly loyal to a dying way of life, resisting the encroachments of the soulless modern world. Instead, he's come up with a portrait of Cahill that's much darker -- one that's restless, searching. Brilliantly portrayed by Brendan Gleeson, this Cahill (for whom Gleeson is a dead ringer) is a disruptive force sprung full-blown from the collective Irish id. A traditionalist with an utter contempt for authority, Cahill is a contradiction that adds up, an embodiment of his country's sentimental and black-humored hard-luck soul. Gleeson is one of those rare actors who has an instinctive rapport with the audience from the moment he appears on-screen. With his teddy-bear build and his perpetual seen-it-all frown, Gleeson looks deceptively cuddly, the sort who's hiding a big man's heart inside his gruff big man's frame. When he creeps through a suburban home at night, stealing toys from a sleeping child to bestow on his own daughter, he's Santa Claus in reverse. Between the way Gleeson looks and the way Cahill mouths off to any authority figure in his path (like the public-housing official who asks him if he wouldn't be happier with "his own kind"), "The General" -- for a while -- lulls us into seeing him as a wily, slob antihero. Part of that reaction is our naive eagerness to believe that thieves are striking a blow for the have-nots. Martin Cahill seems, at first glance, to fit the bill. Living with his wife, Frances (Maria Doyle Kennedy), and kids in a modest middle-class home, Cahill doesn't go in for show. He's not a drinker or a smoker, and his idea of indulging himself is to buy a state-of-the-art pigeon coop for his beloved birds. For him, the sheer joy of thieving lies in pulling off the jobs everyone assumes impossible, and then taking the piss out of the cops by daring them to catch him. It's hard not to get caught up in Cahill's brazenness when he strolls into a police station to establish an alibi for himself while his men are knocking off a bank down the block. Inspector Kenny (Jon Voight) knows exactly what Cahill is up to, and our first reaction to Voight's rising anger is to laugh, the way we laugh at the slow burn of Edgar Kennedy's cop in Laurel and Hardy movies. But Inspector Kenny isn't a clown, and Cahill is no Robin Hood. Cahill emerges as one of the most deeply ambivalent figures to occupy the center of any recent movie. Boorman's refusal to either deny Cahill's tenderness and loyalty or shield us from his brutality may be confusing, even off-putting, for some viewers. In one scene, Cahill holds court in his headquarters, handing out food and supplies to women whose husbands are out of work ("My way of paying taxes," he calls it). Then, turning his attention to an associate he suspects of stealing from him, he nails the poor bastard's hands to a pool table. (And Cahill still thinks he did the right thing when the fellow turns out to be innocent. As he removes the nails he declares, "Nobody could take that much pain without talkin'.") N E X T_P A G E _| Cheeky and dangerous