Could be Ford's worst. It is a biopic of some Irish guy named Marty Maher, but after 138 minutes I still couldn't figure out what made him special enough to be the subject of a feature film. In real life, Mr. Maher may well have been a fine man with many attainments, but in this movie, aside from giving kindly advice to cadets on a couple of occasions, his one real achievement is that of being Irish. This may explain why Ford dwells so insistently on Marty's Irishness.
I can't even figure out what exactly Marty did at West Point for fifty years. It had something to do with athletics, but that's as much as we know. The reason he merits being saluted by a parade of cadets at the end, playing (of course) Irish tunes in march time, appears to be that he was a nice guy with a colorful accent and everybody liked him.
Not exactly the stuff of drama!
Ford's involvement in all things Irish is much in evidence. Marty's wife is the stereotypical colleen, with flaming red hair, a flaring temper, flashing eyes, and a thick brogue. We are all asked to share in Ford's delight with this.
As for Marty's father, how the devil did he manage to get in good with the brass at West Point and become something of a fixture there himself? And why does he persist in dressing like a leprechaun?
We are treated to multiple scenes of cadets drilling, being drilled, and marching on parade, with perhaps more military songs being played than ever were heard in a single movie. In the end, there is a prolonged sequence with hundreds of cadets marching in honor of Marty while he stands there saluting. Enough to make you squirm with embarrassment.
A really bad movie.
I can't even figure out what exactly Marty did at West Point for fifty years. It had something to do with athletics, but that's as much as we know. The reason he merits being saluted by a parade of cadets at the end, playing (of course) Irish tunes in march time, appears to be that he was a nice guy with a colorful accent and everybody liked him.
Not exactly the stuff of drama!
Ford's involvement in all things Irish is much in evidence. Marty's wife is the stereotypical colleen, with flaming red hair, a flaring temper, flashing eyes, and a thick brogue. We are all asked to share in Ford's delight with this.
As for Marty's father, how the devil did he manage to get in good with the brass at West Point and become something of a fixture there himself? And why does he persist in dressing like a leprechaun?
We are treated to multiple scenes of cadets drilling, being drilled, and marching on parade, with perhaps more military songs being played than ever were heard in a single movie. In the end, there is a prolonged sequence with hundreds of cadets marching in honor of Marty while he stands there saluting. Enough to make you squirm with embarrassment.
A really bad movie.