Five Minutes of Heaven

In October of 1975, 17-year-old Alistair Little, approached the window of the Griffin family household and shot 19-year-old Jim Griffin three times. Jim’s younger brother, Joe, frozen by the sight of the gun in the masked man’s hand, stood in the street 10 feet away and watched Jim die.

With this event as an historical backdrop, “Five Minutes of Heaven” director Oliver Hirschbiegel probes the intensely personal nature of the divisive conflict that has plagued Ireland over the last century. Best known for “Downfall,” his Oscar-nominated 2004 chronicle of Hitler’s final days, Hirschbiegel again humanizes a seemingly irredeemable man to create a fascinating drama that explores the difficulties of reconciliation in many of today’s intractable conflicts. Focusing on the fictional meeting of real-life Irish citizens Joe Griffin (James Nesbitt, “Millions”) and Alistair Little (Liam Neeson) 33 years after the murder that connected them, the film traces the human cost of violence that permeated a society.

Elders are the villains in Hirschbiegel’s vision. It is their inability to forgive what has been done to them and their willingness to compromise their own children that fuels this cycle. As a teenager, Little takes on his mission to kill Jim Griffin in order to achieve acceptance and respect from his Protestant elders. Joe is motivated to consider revenge against Little not because of his brother’s death, but because of the emotional trauma caused by his mother, who blames him for Jim’s death. Since being released from prison, Little has found financial success as a sort of poster boy for reconciliation, helping inmates and former gang members come to terms with what they’ve done. Despite this, as the film progresses it becomes clear Little is as much of a victim as Joe Griffin. His guilt has prevented him from ever starting a family or developing any kind of social life.

While Griffin has been able to raise a healthy family, his relationship with his two daughters continues the theme of parents as a potentially destructive influence. His growing preoccupation with revenge pulls him away from his family, even causing him to physically lash out at his wife. This point is further emphasized when Little’s first piece of advice upon their meeting is to give himself wholly to his children.

Nesbitt’s performance is extremely effective; his tics, shakes, and darting eyes build on one another until he seems to be held together by nothing save his trembling cigarette. He evokes ample sympathy throughout the film, but when his plans to kill Little are revealed, one can’t help but feel pity and a measure of disgust for his delusion that it would change anything.

Liam Neeson’s sympathetic and tortured portrayal of Alistair Little marks a departure from his normal role as powerful, authoritative, decision-maker. His regret is palpable, and his permanently haunted look demonstrates the suffering of an individual who it would have otherwise been very easy to root against.

Throughout the film the tension builds to an almost unbearable level, particularly as their meeting is deferred, even by moments, again and again. When they finally meet, the release of this tension is explosive, all the more so because time has eclipsed and brought to light the realization that revenge is futile here. Hirschbiegel’s insights are telling, albeit conventional. From Ireland to Rwanda, people whose lives were destroyed by violence are forced to live next door to those who supported, colluded with, or tacitly approved of their parents’ executioners, and no culture of vendetta can repair the damage already done. The choice between vengeful gratification and reconciliation—or whatever approximation is possible—is a daily one, and one skillfully realized by “Five Minutes of Heaven.”