Paul Byrne talks to director John Boorman and actor Brendan Gleeson about their controversial new film on the life of Dublin criminal, Martin Cahill, aka The General.
It was a movie that was destined to cause controversy, but ever since filmmaker John Boorman read Paul William's best-selling biography of Martin Cahill, the notorious Dublin crime boss known as The General, he was determined to make a film about this "fascinating character". So determined that, over the last two years, he has invested much of his time, energy and cash into getting the film made. When no studio was willing to finance the film, he even put up £250,000 of his own company's money to get the cameras rolling.
And through all the trials and tribulations of pre-production, Boorman had one man in mind for the role of the man whose life ended on the 18th of August 1994 with a lone assassin's bullet. Having made quite an impression in Braveheart, and an even bigger impression in Paddy Breathnach's Irish hit, I Went Down, last year, Brendan Gleeson was indeed a wise choice.
As I spoke to the two of them the day before they were due to fly to Cannes, it was clear that they were already bracing themselves for the inevitable controversy surrounding a film about the man who was a hero to some and a demon to many.
PB: John, why did this film become such a passion to you?
JB: "Well, this character... you couldn't live in Ireland in the 1980s and not be aware of the goings on of this Martin Cahill, and it was really only when Paul Williams wrote this documentary account of all the nefarious goings on of this man, I felt not only was he just a fascinating character, but also, because he was completely opposed to all forms of authority, that somehow he kind of gave a snapshot of contemporary Irish society. And it's a society which is in a state of flux and change. People turning away from the church and questioning traditional values. And in a sense, Cahill was doing that very thing, but for different reasons. "His reason was because he was brought up in this slum, Hollyfield, where all the rejects were dumped, and he felt rejected by society, and the logic of that was that he didn't feel any obligation to follow the rules of society.
"He's a man of cunning and guile and wit, and he used those qualities, and his intelligence, to outwit the police. And he got his satisfaction from playing these cranks against civil servants, or police, or whoever it was. It was his way of getting his own back. And that was the man we made the film about."
PB: Brendan, did it take much persuading to get you to take on a role that you were seemingly born to play?
BG: "Well, I was initially worried about the fact that, first of all, he wasn't dead that long and he had people who were perhaps still grieving him. Also, that there's a thing in train whereby he was notorious and people would take him on as an excuse to merely laugh at the police, and wasn't he just a clever fella altogether. Which didn't tell the true story, because obviously a lot of people were being hurt in the course of all these goings on. So I had to think carefully about the nature of the project, but when I went to talk to John, it was clear that this was going to be a work of integrity.
"It wasn't going to be The General's Greatest Hits on film, because there were a number of horrible situations that accrued from his intimidation of people. I don't think I would have so readily gone into it with a different director, and I think we managed, under quite difficult circumstances at times, to ask questions that needed to be asked without romanticizing this notion of a violent rebel who was terribly funny in the way that he messed everyone around. I think we managed to make a humane film, and one that examines questions that have to be asked about Irish society, and about the nature of the human species, if that isn't too grandiose a claim. Because I think we all have the knowledge that we're both savage and wonderful, and it's just exploring that through what we know about this man's life."
PB: Have you yourself ever dabbled in crime?
BG: "A guard wouldn't ask me that question (laughs). I've had little experiences that have let me know what it would be like. I got myself involved at one time with characters that I shouldn't have gotten involved with, and it was a solitary lesson. It was interesting because, in my case, it showed me that the system works. I'm easily frightened. I got a sudden rap on the knuckles, and I knew that was enough for me. I can't inhabit this kind of world. And so it's interesting to try and reach the part of the soul who wasn't intimidated by that.
"I wouldn't be able to do that, to live with that kind of pressure, to take on powerful institutions, the police and the judicial system. You can't grow up in any city without going down streets where it's dangerous to go, and figuring out where you stand within that world. And there were places that I went when I was growing up that I wish I hadn't, and I skidaddled out of there. It's interesting to see people who've never been down those streets in their lives making comments about people who live there - that's one thing that irritates me. I think what the film does is attempt to go down that street and see what's going on."
PB: Do you have a small regard for Cahill now after making the film?
BG: "More than that. I found it very hard to get rid of him, after he lived in me for so long. You get to know him as a friend, so to speak, so I'd have more than a sneaking regard for him. He was very, very kind to a lot of people, very caring as a family person, very witty, very bright, very entertaining. And his life ended up where he operated in the netherworld of crime and intimidation, and violence and hurt, and I feel that what comes out of the film at the end is a sense of waste. It is a tragic story. There's a sense of sadness, and I do feel that about him. "I don't know how much of that is utter nonsense and fantasy on my part, but you can't have spoken to the amount of people that I have who really miss him without
feeling that in a lot of ways this guy was a wonderful human being. Who's to judge?" PB: John, do you think he was a Robin Hood or a Reggie Kray now?
BG: "I don't think he was a psychotic. A lot of criminals get a lot of pleasure in the sadism of beating people up. I think he used violence out of necessity. He was quite prepared to go to great lengths - nailing someone's hands to a pool table was a completely unpleasant thing to do, but it was essential to him. He needed violence to control his gang, and to achieve his ends. He did other things which aren't in the film which are pretty awful, but he was very much unlike the photofit of your usual gangster. He was clearly very intelligent, and he got his pleasure out of these pranks, making fools out of the police. That's what he really enjoyed. It was a form of revenge, but there didn't seem to be any anger in it. Just a kind of pleasure he got out of making them look silly."
PB:How many of Cahill's family and friends were involved in the making of The General?
JB: "Well, none really. We were told right from the outset that his family and his criminal associates wouldn't have anything to do with us. We made attempts to make contact with them, and that proved to be the case, particularly with the family. They've always rejected society, and still do, and we're part of that society. "We sent the script to Frances, and I know that Brendan sent her a note, and we made one or two other attempts to make contact which were all rebuffed. I invited her to see the film before anyone else at a private screening but there was also no response to that. I did get a letter from his son, Martin Cahill Jnr, an art student not involved in any criminal activities, and he wrote a very intelligent letter in which he said how difficult it was making a life bearing this name and this reputation. He didn't want to be involved in the film, so we changed his name. His brother, Eddie Cahill, recently got out of prison and is currently having an exhibition of the paintings he did whilst he was in prison.
"There's clearly a very artistic streak in this family, it's just that Martin's artistry was directed in the way that we all see in the film."
PB: John, there seems to be strong parallels between The General and much of your other work - from Point Blank and Deliverance to Beyond Rangoon, each film dealing with a search for humanity, outsiders, and the rituals of the tribe. Is that deliberate?
JB: "Well, do you know something, when I set out to make a film, I always try to make something completely different. I never want to do anything like I've done in the past, I always set out to make something utterly different. And it's only when I've finished it that usually other people make these comparisons that I think, oh yeah, I suppose that's true. It appears I'm only capable of making the same film over and over again in different guises."
PB: With a new book on Veronica Guerin, the Dublin crime journalist who was shot dead last year, having been condemned in many quarters as being in bad taste so soon after her death, are you expecting much negativity in Ireland for The General?
JB: "Yeah, I think there will be some, yes. I don't think the police are going to like the film that much. But Paul wrote that book and he researched all that material, so it's all there. I suppose when you put it up on the screen, it makes much more of a splash. I think the problem with Paul Williams is that he was a little bit humiliated that Veronica was shot and he wasn't."
BG: "Well, I was offered a role in the film of the Veronica Guerin Story, which I turned down. I grew up on the same street as Veronica Guerin, and it was less than a year after she was shot, and I felt that that was unseemly. And I don't want to do the Veronica Geurin Story because I think it's very difficult for people to come into it with the right motivation. It's a very attractive story; she was an incredibly brave person, and an incredibly attractive character in much the same way that Cahill was a very attractive character. But from my point of view, again it comes down to whether you wish as an artist to make something that has a contribution to make based on somebody's life above and beyond just feeding off their fame or notoriety, or decency, or lack of, or whatever it is."
PB: The relationship between Martin's two sisters seems incredibly amicable in the film, despite the fact that they were both knowingly sleeping with the same man: was that the truth of it?
JB: "Well, obviously this was very hard to know, but we do know certain facts. That they lived together, that both women had children with him. And the fact that they lived together, side by side, they were at least as harmonious as most other languages. I think they were the most difficult scenes to write, and probably to perform too, because we had to divine and intuit how it would have happened. And I think what guided me was the fact that Cahill rejected the rules of society - he just made up his own rules. And these people were cut off from society, they turn in on themselves. They had no contact with the outside world, so necessarily they turned in on themselves. And therefore, it seemed right that Frances could see this romance blossoming, with her sister and her husband, and she pre-empted it by giving him permission, by giving them both permission.
"Now, if you take that position that they both rejected society, then monogamy is not a natural law because we know a lot of societies where you have more than one wife, then he was simply inventing another kind of society and living by it. And he was clearly beloved by these women. There was indeed a third sister, with whom he had a relationship, but I felt it would have been a bit of a stretch to try and put that in and get people to believe it."
The General is released nationwide on 29 May 1998.
Paul Byrne
