Considering the monumental reputation this film had, it is surprisingly average, a very slow moving plot and with rather clunky and, at times, amateurish direction.

Even with its faults, this could have been a serious film, perhaps a masterpiece, if it had taken the easy route on several occasions. The earliest and most important of these cop outs is the shooting of Jody (Forest Whitaker). After its long (perhaps over long) opening sequence in which Jody is abducted, we feel we are at the start of a movie about moral choices and how, in this case the hero, Fergus, may have to do something he finds morally repugnant for the greater good. Alas, in a scene which completely deflated me, this choice is removed from him, Whittaker instead being run over by a British armoured car. Leaving aside the practical aspect (armoured cars are noisy things, not likely to creep up on you unnoticed), this completely destroys the powerful underlying tension of the film. Had Fergus shot Jody (or at least thought he had), then following his last request, had sought out the girl only to fall in love with her, the film would have asked serious questions about the nature of good and evil. Instead the hero becomes basically an errand boy.

I do wonder if this strange decision was caused by a need to placate the American audience and thus sanitise the IRA to a degree? Certainly some of the next scenes in London seem to represent a cosy tourist view of the city with chirpy barman Jim Broadbent happily giving out cocktails to customers on their second visit (never known a barman to do that) and a clichéd white chav version of Essex man complete with shell suit. This stands out since the film is so careful (rightly) not to create stereotype Irish, black or LGBT characters. But this courtesy is not extended to white English males.

The story meanders for a long time (with many rather pointless shots of a Jody bowling) both before and after the not so shocking reveal which I personally did not find that interesting. The story starts to flag just as Fergus's old IRA buddies show up. This lumbers to the final climax which again is rather amateurishly filmed.

If you want to see a great and beautifully shot film about the IRA and love, ODD MAN OUT by Carol Reed is a far finer work.

Neil Jordan's award winning The Crying Game is famous for its big twist halfway through. When the film was released in 1992, the twist was largely kept secret by reviewers and became the stuff of legend; it's now quite well-known of course, although its dramatic impact remains unaffected even if it is neither shocking nor surprising anymore. But there's considerably more to The Crying Game than a single twist. Jordan both wrote and directed the film, and his screenplay is interesting in that it features as the main protagonist an IRA volunteer with whom the audience is expected to sympathise, and indeed does. That in itself was a bold move for a British film made in 1992, although the fact that said volunteer's two IRA colleagues are ruthless killers whose on-screen transgressions are ultimately rewarded with their deaths arguably balances this out. Nevertheless, Jordan's script is brave in tackling the subject. The story concerns Stephen Rea's Fergus, the aforementioned volunteer who becomes complicit in the kidnapping of a British soldier - Forest Whitaker's Jody - and ends up bonding with him, to the alarm of IRA members Maguire (Adrian Dunbar) and Jude (Miranda Richardson). Fergus finds that he is unable to execute Jody, who instead dies ironically when he accidentally runs beneath the wheels of a British Army vehicle, prompting Fergus to head to London in search of Jody's girlfriend Dil. Jordan tries to avoid writing his characters as good or evil, with Fergus spending the whole film questioning himself and changing as a result, and Jody frankly telling Fergus that he joined the British Army not to fight the Irish, but because he simply needed a job. It would be inaccurate to say that The Crying Game is a serious study of the Troubles, which are essentially just used as background, but that in itself makes the film stand out. Once Fergus moves to London however, it becomes about something else entirely, as he falls in love with Jaye Davidson's Dil and is horrified to discover that she has an entirely unexpected penis. Despite Fergus initially reacting by striking Dil before vomiting, he ultimately realises that he still loves her, allowing the film to continue its trajectory as a love story; things go awry however when Maguire and Jude track Fergus down and forcibly recruit him for an IRA operation. Some modern reviewers tend to describe Dil as "trans", interpreting the character as a transgender woman, although Jordan intended Dil to be a transvestite, thus forcing Fergus to deal with the fact that he is in love with a man. Either way, the fact that he ultimately accepts Dil was quite progressive for 1992. More importantly in plot terms, it explores the theme of identity; not Dil's, but rather Fergus's, as he turns his back on his both his IRA past and his previous convictions about his sexuality. A large part of the film's success lies in the performances, especially those of Stephen Rea and Jaye Davidson, who establish a convincing on-screen chemistry (made all the more impressive by the fact that Davidson had never acted before but still gives an utterly convincing, electrifying performance). But Jordan gets great performances out of all the cast members, with Richardson and Dunbar giving naturalistic performances in their roles, and Jim Broadbent getting a lovely supporting role as sage bartender Col. Whitaker's English accent is variable, but his heartfelt performance is crucial to the first half of the film, even if he is a bit fat for a squaddie. The characterisation generally works well, and there's an undercurrent of black humour running through the film, with some witty dialogue especially during the scene at the building site when Dil comes to see Fergus after she gets his apology note. Despite the film concluding with Fergus in prison, it ends on an optimistic note, with Dil visiting and waiting for him to be released. The film's polished visuals are typical of Jordan, who favours dynamic camerawork, with frequent use of tracking shots. The film is shot largely on location, which gives it an added air of realism. In a particularly nice touch, after Fergus finds out the truth about Dil and returns to bar, the camera lingers on the other patrons, reflecting his realisation of what he - and probably most of the audience - missed before. There's a great partly diagetic soundtrack too. The Crying Game made a splash in 1992 because of the shock revelation that Dil had a penis; it's reputation has endured because it doesn't just rely on a twist, but because it is a well directed film with a well written screenplay.

"The Crying Game" is a film about understanding. Over the course of two hours and across two countries, characters that come from ostensibly opposite social groups learn to understand each other, in spite of the efforts of those from their own tribe to discourage that from happening.

First there is Fergus and Jody. Fergus is a white volunteer for the I.R.A., Jody a black soldier for the British crown. Fergus is charged with guarding Jody after he is captured, and his sympathy for his prisoner allows them to connect, despite their conflicting roles in the Troubles. Later, Fergus meets Dil. They are, in a number of categorical ways, very different, but they form a bond as well. It isn't easy, and doesn't happen immediately, but their mutual good will makes it possible.

If you thought "The Crying Game" was a film about the Troubles, you'll likely be surprised. It isn't, and it is, though not in the way you might expect. Surprise may be the film's defining characteristic, especially the way the plot turns from act to act. I won't give away any more than I already have; suffice it to say that the script is excellent. Not just in the twists and turns, but also the dialogue, which is brought to life with stellar acting, especially by Stephen Rea, Forest Whitaker, Jaye Davidson, and Jim Broadbent in a bit part. Everything is done well, including the soundtrack - its feature song, performed with moxie by Davidson before a rapt barroom crowd, gives the film its title.

Well-written, acted, and directed, "The Crying Game" remains a relevant and gripping watch almost three decades after it was made.