Average Almodóvar, daring Dumont, and a gong for Ireland. Séamas McSwiney reports from the 2006 Festival de Cannes – a triumphant year for Ireland.

It didn't rain in Cannes this year. For the first festival in many, there wasn't a single downpour on the Croisette. Neither was there thunder and, unfortunately, lightning did not strike to designate the film that would certainly be the winner. No picture really stood out, but the wind did blow and the barley did shake and, somewhat miraculously, as it swayed in the balmy Riviera sunshine, the yellow grain turned into a golden palm. From Murphy's stout to French champagne. Doubtcha boy, Ken, as they say in the People's Republic of Cork.

No way, Pedro
The jury was unanimous but the pundits were divided. In the UK, there was very little celebration for this most prestigious award given to an Englishman. Newspapers that routinely take swipes at wasting taxpayer's money on bad British movies didn't applaud this international recognition. Instead, they accused him of various types of treason. Not cricket to make cinematic confessions of this order.

In Cannes some would have preferred an average Almódovar, like Volver, to take the Palm, a film where he trots out his standard quality fare to the delight of most. Pedro himself seemed less than joyful on being awarded the screenplay prize. Other preferences leaned towards Alejandro González Inarritu's multilingual three-story Babel, even though it didn't have the out-there intensity of his two previous films. The Mexican director was delighted with his well-deserved Best Director nod. But many, like the particularly prestigious jury they assembled this year, were knocked out by Loach's simple tale, an authentic take on the complexities, and inevitable tragedies, of resisting domination.

So what is a good or great film? Perhaps it's when it's about more than it's about, that is to say when it has resonances that go beyond the perimeter of the story being told, whether it be in a thematic, political or emotional way. The Wind that Shakes the Barley is a simple history lesson wrapped up in its social context and told through a melodramatic story. But it is also plainly about similar tragedies and crimes that are happening today and for which 'our side' is responsible. So it's also a militant film about the consequences of forgetting or, more precisely, denying history. Loach's films don't always hit their cinematic target, but his politics are always unashamedly plain to see. In Barley, he manages to do both with brio.

The full article is printed in Film Ireland 111.