I often wanted to write about
Tiernan but never found the right way to talk about the vast activity of his
life. So this is really a fragmented, impressionistic piece in response to
Sunniva’s request and not really a definitive thing.
These first memories are closely
bound up with the group of film makers whose vision created the space for all
that would follow.
Tiernan MacBride
I am at the Cork Film Festival in
1981. Joe Comerford’s Traveler is the opening film. Thaddeus O’Sullivan’s
documentary on Jack B. Yeats is also being screened. At the Q&A, a large
man is asking searching questions about the making of my film Maeve. Talking in
public was difficult for me and I was nervous at being challenged.
Next day, the film makers meet to
demand the setting up of an Irish Film Board. Passionate arguments are heard
from an inner room where Tiernan and Lelia retire to draft a letter with the
precise wording that everyone could agree on. An intensity that is so alive and
focused compared to film makers discussions in London and New York.
Two years earlier, when I began
talking about making Maeve, someone said “Oh you should see Thaddeus’s
film.” I tracked it down to the MoMa
library and was watching it on an old 4 plate steenbeck when the researcher
came in and said, ”You know, we have these other Irish films you might be
interested in.“
So that’s how I got to see On a Paving Stone Mounted, Poitin and Down the Corner. I know there’s an entire
constellation of causes and conditions around how new voices of world cinema
emerge, but there’s still something magical about how this energy arises at
different times and in different countries. On that day in that little editing
room in New York, I had a real sense of this momentum gathering in Ireland.
And in the years that followed I
saw how Tiernan’s phenomenal energy was fused with every aspect of that
momentum.
Tiernan and crew on a set of Christmas Morning
He chaired the Association of
Independent Film Makers, who lobbied for years for the setting up of the Board
and who had developed the vision for a sustainable Irish cinema. He chaired the
boards of the Irish Film Theatre (in Earlsfort Terrace) and the Dublin Film
Festival and was on the Board of the Cork Festival. A union activist, he
chaired the film section of ITGWU for a time. And he was a crucial force in the
IFI from its early days through its big transition to becoming the IFC in
Eustace Street.
Most importantly Tiernan was a
member of the Irish Film Board from 1982 to 1987 which was when Charles Haughey
abruptly closed it down. During his time
on the Board, Tiernan was an unswerving advocate for the rights of directors
and the development of low budget film making.
He helped set up Film Base, loaned
equipment, attended meetings, led workshops where he imparted skills and even
supported films financially when they looked on the brink of not happening. He
felt that a healthy film culture could
not be built on the work of a few directors and fought long and hard for the
establishment of an inclusive infrastructure focused on access and training.
Unusually perhaps for the film
world, Tiernan operated from a position of wanting to make situations work
better for everyone. His instincts were always to help. In my own case, alas, I
sometimes perceived this as being interfering.
When I got involved with The Parade
of Innocence (a huge collaboration between artists and political activists in
support for the Guildford Four and the Birmingham Six which would take place
through in Dublin on December 9th 1989), Tiernan kept asking how the huge rig
carrying Thom McGinty would actually work as it was dragged through Dublin.
Annoyed, I kept backing him off. Everyone I knew was frantically working flat
out organizing the event, raising funds, making
costumes and props, rehearsing in the Meeting House and at the Point
Depot. I kept insisting that all would be fine and that there was no time for
runthroughs.
IFI Library named in honour of Tiernan MacBride
But of course he was right, because
when he finally pressurized us into gathering at the City Centre at 6am on a
freezing dark December morning, the all important rig barely made it as far as
the street before the wheels buckled. Disaster. But then the rig was repaired
everything worked brilliantly on December 9th.
When Tiernan died, Film Ireland
published a compilation of memories from friends and colleagues. I remember
laughing when I read Gina Moxley’s piece about Tiernan being a very patient
man, because that’s not generally how people saw him.
Gina was totally right, though.
Yes, he was certainly uncompromising and wrathful at times in support of what
he believed in, but Tiernan was profoundly patient with the things that really
mattered. He understood the long haul necessary in order to bring the dream of
a Irish cinema to fruition.
Maybe this was the result of
growing up in such an intensely political family. Tiernan believed deeply in
the democratic process. I have seen him outvoted on a particular issue and then
be able to put personal feelings aside in order to represent the prevailing
view, which is something I couldn’t do.
All this activity went on alongside
a film making life. As well as being a well known commercials director, Tiernan
loved the films of Costa Gavras and Francesco Rosi and wanted to make big
political films. In 1978, his short film “Christmas Morning” was selected for
competition at Cannes, but I think after that he was plunged into the urgency
of Irish film politics and so he moved away from the idea of being a director
to devote himself to being a supporter of other film makers. He was a positive
force in Irish life and a crucial voice in the creation of Irish cinema.
Pat Murphy
Director and Filmmaker
Find out more on IFI Tiernan MacBride Library on our website.
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