John Boorman is a true renaissance filmmaker. He can do hard-knuckle actioners (Point Blank), tony lit adaptations (Deliverance), and sci-fi head trippers (Zardoz). Boorman’s latest, The General, has a lot in common with his side that made Hope and Glory, which is to take a subject often portrayed darkly and show it brimming with humanity and humor. With Hope and Glory it was a London family struggling to survive the War--The General’s setting is the last battle cries of Dublin’s poor and delinquent as they are swept under the rug of society.

The General is Martin Cahill, a true figure, a big fat Robin Hood, a sloppy idealist who’ll never forget that it’s "us against them." We meet him as a boy in Holyfield, one of those Irish housing projects featured in The Boxer (although I’ve been to Ireland, and it doesn’t all look like that.). He meets his true love when he steals her a doughnut. She lovingly accepts it; in Holyfield, to steal for someone is the highest flattery.

Years pass and Holyfield is being torn down by The Guarda, headed by John Voight (with passable brogue). The General will not go gently into that good night, although he does steal himself a nicer home, and he tries his best to keep his band of thieves and runners together with the old Holyfield code. He ultimately fails, because of drugs, because of the IRA, because of terrorist loyalists (rarely seen in movies about Ireland), because of changing times. But! Along the way . . .

The General and his gang pull one of the funniest jewelry heists on film. A low-tech masterpiece. Heat this ain’t. They also rip off some Vermeers ("I don’t know art, but I know what I like . . . to steal!") All this while he’s on trial. He’s stealing at night, in court during the day, collecting his dole money in the mornings, trying to keep his gang together in the evenings (even if it means nailing one to a pool table), and playing with his pigeons and kids in between. He’s also teaching himself the Clintonian aspects of Irish law, to keep his relationship with John Voight’s character as close to Wile E. Coyote and The Roadrunner as possible.

The General is one of those unforgettable characters, completely natural, realistic and hysterical. A slob always covering his face with his pudgy fingers or a hood for fear a cop’ll look him in the eye. Much of the picture he looks like a big green coat. He also gets to bang his wife’s hot sister, and his wife says it’s okay--that’s how lovable he is, you just can’t say no!

I live in New York and see local celebrities all the time---Al Sharpton, Joey Buttafuoco, Jim Knipfel---so I can kinda understand how both loved and hated The General must’ve been in Dublin. It’s one of those stories begging to be told. I’m glad John Boorman did so, even if he did steal the title from Buster Keaton.

PS: The General identifies with swine. In one scene he wears a T-shirt that says "squeal like a pig." Nice touch.