Mar 17 : Set in Ireland 🇮🇪
#Bales2026FilmChallenge #FilmMastodon 📽️ 🎬
#TheCryingGame (1992)
A British soldier kidnapped by the IRA soon befriends one of his captors, who then becomes drawn into the soldier's world.
#StephenRea #JayeDavidson #ForestWhitaker #MirandaRichardson
[1/2]

Mar 17 : Set in Ireland 🇮🇪
#Bales2026FilmChallenge #FilmMastodon 📽️ 🎬
#TheCryingGame (1992)
A British soldier kidnapped by the IRA soon befriends one of his captors, who then becomes drawn into the soldier's world.
#StephenRea #JayeDavidson #ForestWhitaker #MirandaRichardson
[2/2]

Werewolf: The Beast Among Us (2012): Entertaining Hokum https://mikesfilmtalk.com/2015/08/21/werewolf-the-beast-among-us-2012-entertaining-hokum/ #NiaPeebles, #StephenRea, #StevenBauer, #WerewolfTheBeastAmongUs

Out of the Dark (2014) Slow Moody Morality Tale https://mikesfilmtalk.com/2015/06/06/out-of-the-dark-2014-slow-moody-morality-tale/ #AlexPastor, #Carriers, #DavePastor, #Entertainment, #FilmReview, #Horror, #JuliaStyles, #Mystery, #Netflix, #OutOfTheDark, #PixieDavies, #ScottSpeedman, #StephenRea

A Childhood Christmas – Patrick Kavanagh

One side of the potato-pits was white with frost -
How wonderful that was, how wonderful!
And when we put our ears to the paling-post
The music that came out was magical.

The light between the ricks of hay and straw
Was a hole in Heaven's gable. An apple tree
With its December-glinting fruit we saw -
O you, Eve, were the world that tempted me.

To eat the knowledge that grew in clay
And death the germ within it! Now and then
I can remember something of the gay
Garden that was childhood's. Again.

The tracks of cattle to a drinking-place,
A green stone lying sideways in a ditch,
Or any common sight, the transfigured face
Of a beauty that the world did not touch.

My father played the melodion
Outside at our gate;
There were stars in the morning east
And they danced to his music.

Across the wild bogs his melodion called
To Lennons and Callans.
As I pulled on my trousers in a hurry
I knew some strange thing had happened.

Outside in the cow-house my mother
Made the music of milking;
The light of her stable-lamp was a star
And the frost of Bethlehem made it twinkle.

A water-hen screeched in the bog,
Mass-going feet
Crunched the wafer-ice on the pot-holes,
Somebody wistfully twisted the bellows wheel.

My child poet picked out the letters
On the grey stone,
In silver the wonder of a Christmas townland,
The winking glitter of a frosty dawn.

Cassiopeia was over
Cassidy's hanging hill,
I looked and three whin bushes rode across
The horizon — the Three Wise Kings.

And old man passing said:
‘Can't he make it talk -
The melodion.' I hid in the doorway
And tightened the belt of my box-pleated coat.

I nicked six nicks on the door-post
With my penknife's big blade -
there was a little one for cutting tobacco.
And I was six Christmases of age.

My father played the melodion,
My mother milked the cows,
And I had a prayer like a white rose pinned
On the Virgin Mary's blouse.

by Patrick Kavanagh (1904-1967)

Here is the poem, beautifully read by Stephen Rea:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwPNf0qtX44

#AChildhoodChristmas #PatrickKavanagh #StephenRea