Parnell: A Big, Expensive Historical Headache

Is it worth your time?

Honestly? Maybe if you’re a die-hard fan of 1930s studio gloss or just have a weird obsession with Clark Gable’s mustache. If you’re looking for a serious political thriller or even a remotely believable Irish accent, you should probably skip this one. It’s the kind of movie that feels like it’s wearing a costume that’s three sizes too big.

It’s not often you see a movie try so hard to be important while feeling so utterly small. The whole thing hinges on the relationship between Parnell and O'Shea, but they just sort of look at each other with these glazed expressions. There’s no spark. It’s like watching two people try to remember if they left the stove on while they’re supposed to be having a forbidden romance.

The Irish Problem

Gable is, well, he’s Gable. He plays an Irish revolutionary with the exact same energy he’d use to sell a used car in 1937. He doesn't even try for the accent, which is almost respectable in its laziness. He just stands there in his frock coat and stares intensely at the camera whenever the word "Home Rule" is mentioned.

The pacing is a total disaster. One minute we’re in prison, the next we’re at a garden party, and none of it flows. It reminded me of the erratic editing style in A Journey Through Filmland, but without the benefit of being short. It’s just long scenes of people talking in rooms that look suspiciously like they were built for a different movie entirely.

• That one scene in the library where someone holds a book for three minutes without reading it.
• The extras in the background who seem to be waiting for a bus that never comes.
• The way Myrna Loy is basically playing a saint while everyone else is just shouting.

There’s this weird, stiff quality to the whole production. It’s as if the actors were afraid that if they moved too quickly, the set would fall over. It’s miles away from the kinetic, chaotic energy you see in something like El prisionero 13. Here, everything is polished until it’s invisible.

I found myself counting the buttons on the costumes just to stay awake during the second hour. Maybe it’s not meant for a modern audience, or maybe it was just a bad day on the set. Either way, it feels like a chore. 🙄

It’s weird to think people once thought this was the peak of cinematic storytelling. It’s barely a footnote in the history of the studio system now. If you want to see a real disaster, this is a masterclass in how to take a fascinating, messy historical figure and turn him into a cardboard cutout. Don't say I didn't warn you.