Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie

Rating summary

Movie		3.5
Video		3.5
Audio		3.5
Extras		1.0
Overall		3.5

Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie Review

Ninety minutes of calcified anger and stony regret.

Reviewed by Casey Broadwater May 6, 2010

To this day, they’re called “The Troubles,” a euphemism if there ever was one. For over thirty years, Northern Ireland’s Catholic separatists and Protestant loyalists—both essentially paramilitary terrorist organizations— skirmished with one another, catching the general public in the crossfire. By the time Northern Ireland got The Troubles off its collective chest—with the Belfast “Good Friday” Agreement of 1998—over 3,500 civilians and part-time soldiers had been killed. Several recent films have tried to metaphorically parse the overarching, socio-political complexities of the conflict by focusing on intensely personal stories, the specificity making their themes more universal. After all, there’s not much that non-Irish audiences can relate to in a film that’s broadly about a cultural quarrel that dates back to the 1600s, but we can certainly find points of reference in more closely focused stories about individual revenge, loyalty, and redemption. Perhaps the most successful has been director/artist Steve McQueen’s Hunger, an extremely visual and experiential recreation of Republican Army member Bobby Sands’ fatal 1981 hunger strike. While not as intimate or emotionally impacting, director Oliver Hirschbiegel’s Five Minutes of Heaven—which examines the consequences of murder on two men’s lives—is just as thematically potent.

“For me to talk about the man I’ve become,” says Alistair Little (Liam Neeson), “you need to know about the man I was.” We hear this in voice-over as a younger, 17-year-old Little mentally pumps himself up in front of his bedroom mirror. It’s 1975, The Troubles are at a troublesome peak, and Little—the fresh-faced leader of a Protestant, Ulster Volunteer Force cadre—has just received his first killing orders. He’s to make an example out of Jim Griffin (Gerard Jordan), a 19-year-old Roman Catholic roustabout, to illustrate what happens when Protestant workers get harassed down at the docks. The fact that Griffin himself never did any of the harassing is completely dismissed by Little and his gang; clearly, someone has to pay. Jump suits and ski masks are donned, the crew creeps up to Griffin’s house in a stolen car, and Little fires the fatal shots through the living room window. Griffin’s 11-year-old brother, Joe, who had been kicking a soccer ball outside, witnesses it all.

We fast-forward 33 years. Little served 12 years in prison for his crime and is now a kind of anti- violence spokesman and counselor, helping wife beaters and other violent offenders get a grip on their anger. Joe Griffin (James Nesbitt), on the other hand, is an utter wreck of a man. Long blamed by his mother for failing to stop Little, his rage has festered for three decades and he’s hell bent on retribution. Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but Griffin’s emotionally boiling, mental pressure cooker is ready to burst. Both Little and Griffin have agreed to participate in a Dateline- style television program aimed at promoting reconciliation, but Griffin’s intentions are more sinister. The show is being filmed at a massive estate, and while Little candidly discusses “the man he was” for the cameras downstairs, Griffin paces along the rooftop balustrade, waiting to meet his brother’s murderer, a cigarette perpetually cradled in his hand and a dagger neatly concealed under his suit jacket.

This takes us up to the second act, and to reveal any more—as the film’s trailer does, beware— would ruin the Hitchcockian suspense that the director sustains all the way up until an ending that feels a bit rushed in its attempt to shoehorn some release and redemption into a story that, in real life, probably wouldn’t have any. There are moments of horror-movie-like tension, as Hirschbiegel—who directed Downfall, the terrific account of Hitler’s last days— lets out some slack with a few misdirects before rapidly reeling us in. Having Little and Griffin in the same house, but not able to see one another, is a brilliant move, allowing us to observe how inherently different the two men are as they prepare for their meeting. Little is calm, almost emotionally detached—we get the sense that a good part of his soul has died over the years—and he’s curiously concerned for Griffin’s mental well-being. As he should be. Griffin is a bundle of nerves, sweating, chain-smoking, and spouting resentment-filled diatribes to whoever will listen, in this case, a kindly production assistant (Anamaria Marinca). Interestingly, Five Minutes of Heaven’s period piece first act is quite accurately based on an actual murder. Both Alistair Little and Joe Griffin are real people, and screenwriter Guy Hibbert interviewed them— separately—to get a feel for what would happen if the two were ever to meet. The remainder of the film, then, is a hypothetical projection of such an event, an effectively speculative “what if?” device.

The film’s core concern is the mental and emotional toll exacted by grief, self-loathing regret, and irreconcilable anger. This is no new story, but Five Minutes of Heaven works as a character study, mostly because Neeson and Nesbitt give terrifically rounded performances. Neeson’s sad, noble face engenders empathy to begin with, and though we’re initially not sure what to make of his character—he is a murderer after all—he slowly comes through as quietly broken and genuinely sorry. Neeson is the film’s anchor, letting Nesbitt fly off like a kite in some mad wind, loosening his tongue for emotionally unstable monologues and generally acting like a lunatic. Nesbitt’s stiff gait and wild-eyed delivery borders, at times, on the comic, but appropriately so, as his character is right on that edge between pathetically funny and unpredictably insane. His face is a screwed up mix of anger, disgust, and disbelief, and he perpetually looks like he’s a split- second away from punching someone in the face or throwing a chair through a window. When the two men inevitably meet, it’s as explosive—and futile —as you’d expect. Where the film falters is in its cop-out of an ending. The denouement makes sense, but it does feel somewhat forced and too-tidy, a not-so-satisfying attempt to bring closure to these two men and the broader conflict that they represent.

Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie, Video Quality 

IFC brings Five Minutes of Heaven from British television (and a few international screenings) to Blu-ray with a suitable 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer, framed in the film's original 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Shot on 16mm stock, Heaven has an appropriately gritty and grainy texture that works especially well to give the flashbacks to "The Troubles" a convincingly vintage feel. It's not as sharp as a film shot on 35mm—textures are not as refined, and the finest details are lost in the diminished analog resolution—but I quite like the general look cinematographer Ruairi O'Brien has achieved. The color palette is intentionally bleak, with a predominance of drab neutrals, muted primaries, and skin tones that fall on the pallid side. At times, the picture has an almost cross-processed, expired film look, with a slight bluish cast and highlights that are closer to yellow than white. Where this transfer gets into a little bit of trouble is its black levels. You'll often notice crush—where shadow details have been obliterated—but at the same time, blacks have a hazy, not-as-inky-as-they-could-be quality. On the technical front, the encode looks solid, with no overt compression or transfer issues—barring some spikes in noise during the darker scenes— and no hints of DNR or edge enhancement. The print is in good shape, though I did notice a few white specks here and there.

Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie, Audio Quality 

The main audio offering for Five Minutes of Heaven is a well-equipped DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track. As the film is heavy on monologuing and verbal confrontation, dialogue is at the forefront here, presented cleanly and perfectly volume-balanced in the mix. Joe talks to himself a lot, and at times the world grows hushed—like shellshock—while he internally harps on and on about revenge. Some of the audio effects can be slightly heavy handed— as when the director tries to spook us with jarring noises—but considering the limited sonic palette, it all comes together fairly well. I especially liked the atmospheric, almost ghostly score by David Holmes—who also wrote the music for for Steve McQueen's Hunger—which relies on deep bass, reverb-soaked guitar, and propulsive throbbings. It sounds excellent when you turn it up. The surround channels are used quietly, but effectively throughout, putting out environmental ambience, bled music, and even one or two cross- channel movements. A PCM 2.0 fold-down is also available, but if you have the capabilities you'll definitely want to stay with the more immersive surround track. Optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles are available, and appear in bright yellow lettering at the bottom of the frame.

Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie, Special Features and Extras 

Behind the Scenes (SD, 4:39)
Too short to be of much interest, this is really more of a promo than a "making of" style documentary. We get brief interviews with the writer, director, and stars, plus a few spoilers in the form of over revealing footage from the film. Don't watch this before watching the movie.

Trailer (1080p, 1:55)

Five Minutes of Heaven Blu-ray Movie, Overall Score and Recommendation 

Good, but not great, Five Minutes of Heaven joins the pantheon of films devoted to "The Troubles" and tells a fairly gripping personal drama in the process, with strong performances from Liam Neeson and James Nesbitt. Pair Heaven with Steve McQueen's Hunger and you've got a bleak, historically riveting, and emotionally devastating double feature. Specs for the Blu-ray are solid as well. Casually recommended.