'Soul is honest' declares Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins), and honesty is the hallmark of Alan Parker's eagerly-awaited version of Roddy Doyle's best-seller. Avoiding any attempt to glamorize the working-class setting of the novel, The Commitments is a straightforward, no-nonsense account of the rise and fall of a Dublin soul band, as would be supremo Jimmy and his associates follow the well-worn path to fame and fortune that others are only too familiar with.

A lesser director might have handled such material indifferently, but here Parker displays the dynamism and sureness of touch we've come to expect. Combining visual flair and a feel for the music (it's no accident that Parker started in advertising) while retaining the sharp humour of the novel, the film works surprisingly well in view of the clichés surrounding both the rock industry and representations of the Irish.

In fact, if The Commitments does go over the top sometimes, it is because Parker has wisely chosen to send the whole thing up, thus establishing a credible distance from the proceedings. For example, Jimmy's voice-over narration takes the form of an imaginary interview with Terry Wogan, and when the group pose for a photo they eschew the Custom House in favour of a derelict site (Jimmy: I don't want a fuckin' postcard – I want urban decay!).

Aside from this, the great strenght of the film lies in the characters, each memorable in their own way, from boisterous lead singer Deco Cuffe (Andrew Strong) to quasi-mystical trumpeter Joey 'The Lips' Fagan (Johnny Murphy). The latter acts as a catalyst, first inspiring Jimmy with way-out tales of the good old days (there's a particularly hilarious account of a meeting with Elvis), then accelerating the group's downfall by sleeping with the backing singers (Bronagh Gallagher, Angeline Ball and Maria Doyle). Meanwhile Deco's desire to go solo causes further division and often violent clashes ensue. Indeed it soon becomes obvious that the idealism that brought these distinct personalities together will also tear them apart, and thankfully the ending is in keeping with the knowing tone of the rest of the story.

Parker's great achievement with The Commitments is the way he remains faithful to the spirit of Doyle's novel while integrating the music so that it contributes powerfully to the narrative. With skillful editing by regular collaborator Gerry Hambling ACE and superb performances on stage (and off), classics like Try a Little Tenderness and In the Midnight Hour take on new life. And Gale Tattersall's photography (rainy streets, drab houseing, smoky halls) never lets us lose sight of reality. And if things begin to falter a little towards the end (a sign perhaps of self-indulgence on Parker's part – remember Fame and The Wall?) this is more than redeemed by the comic set pieces and witty one-liners that litter the script.

A fine, well-crafted film then, but above all an honest portrayal of Dublin and her people, and all the more welcome for that.

Brian Guckian – Film Base News 25 (Sep/Oct 1991)