As the bloody sectarian horror show of Northern Ireland in the 20th century has tapered off in the headlines, so has much of its currency in the movies. A few Irish Republican Army gems peek out from time to time (recent Cannes award-winners The Wind That Shakes the Barley and Hunger come to mind), but on the whole, the subject has become almost as quaint as the townships where so many of its earlier films unfolded. Which makes 50 Dead Men Walking both the last of a dying breed and a rejuvenating marvel of sorts: Quintessential IRA grit and exploitation cinema balled up in one fierce package.
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