IN THE LAND OF SAINTS & SINNERS - Mark Reviews Movies

In the Land of Saints & Sinners, Samuel Goldwyn Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | March 28, 2024

The premise of In the Land of Saints & Sinners sets a couple of generally terrible but basically comprehensible people against each other. One is a professional assassin, who covertly marks the graves of his victims with pine saplings. He has killed enough that at least the local forest where he hides the bodies will be good shape for many years. In general, he apparently has killed enough, too, and shortly after his murderous introduction, the man retires, set on a quiet life in a small Irish village.

The other is a member of the IRA, who, in the story's setting of 1974, targets a pub in Belfast during the movie's opening scene. A mother and her two children walk down the sidewalk between the bar and a car with a time bomb inside, and at least this assassin tries to get them away from the blast area. Despite the blatantly innocent victims of her last attack, the woman hasn't killed enough, because she believes there no such thing as a quiet life to be had as long as Ireland is divided.

There's no reason to attempt to weigh the moral standings of these characters in opposition to each other. They're both killers—one doing it for money and the other for ideology. They're both unrepentant, and the only thing that sets them apart in the view of director Robert Lorenz's movie is that Finbar Murphy (Liam Neeson), the soon-to-be retired professional assassin, is the hero, while Doireann McCann (Kerry Condon), the IRA member, is the villain.

At a certain point, it becomes clear that everything about this story—from its backdrop during the Troubles, to the basic sameness of the actions of its leading characters, to the very personal conflict that makes the existence of each irreconcilable with the other—is in service of a decidedly straightforward thriller, building toward a climactic standoff. It's fine enough in that regard, thanks to some solid performances and the sense of impending doom that hovers over the events, but the political, moral, and, more broadly, almost existential concerns of the setup give one the impression there's a lot more that could be going on here.

Maybe it's not fair to criticize a movie for what it doesn't do, but then again, it's not as if the screenplay by Mark Michael McNally and Terry Loane doesn't go out of its way to give us a sense of import with the setup in the first place. If it's not really about the politics and bloodshed of the Troubles, why is it set during that period, with one side explicitly represented within this tale? If it's not about a man trying to escape and confront and make amends for the violence of his past, how come that's the way Finbar is introduced? If it is about how two people who are alike in seemingly being inherently violent and almost destined to collide in bloody battle, why does the whole confrontation become so straightforward and simplistic?

The questions of what the movie could have been, based on its own terms at the start, are more intriguing than the answers the filmmakers provide us, so yes, it's a fine-enough thriller. It's also an intrinsically disappointing one.

Finbar and Doireann's inevitable conflict arises after the latter and her team show up in the former's current home, a small village on the northwest coast of Ireland. From what we can gather, Finbar has been killing people as a career since around the end of World War II, when he returned a changed man and an unexpected widower.

Robert (Colm Meaney) started setting him up with contract killings and has been ever since—until Finbar's most recent target offers a final soliloquy about deciding to change years ago and dedicating his life to doing good for people. That scene's haunting, because Lorenz lets it breathe with dread, regret, and the way Neeson's performance allows the words to sink into Finbar's heart—without changing his mind about the need to kill this man, of course.

Still, violence comes, because Doireann and her team, including her younger brother Curtis (Desmond Eastwood), arrive in town. The siblings have in-laws there, and after Finbar realizes Curtis is physically abusing a little girl, he decides to kill the stranger, against Robert's orders and with help from Kevin (Jack Gleeson), a younger assassin. Doireann assumes foul play has befallen her brother and sets out to kill anyone who's responsible.

Admirably, the obvious beats here have a similar tone and mode as that scene in the woods with Finbar's last official target. They allow these characters to talk—not just about how the plot will move to the next step, but also about and around who these people are, what brought them to their current lives steeped in violence, and how this situation is the sort that can't be solved with words, money, or some other mutual agreement. It's harsh and hard, as well as kind of hopeless, in that way, which are also good ways to describe Condon's performance, which brings a level of desperation and regret to Doireann's vengeful mission.

Even so, the gears of this plot are front-and-center and keep In the Land of Saints & Sinners from fulfilling the potential of its setting, its characters, and its moral murkiness. Fine-enough may be fine, but in this case, it's not quite enough.

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