The film desperately changes from being mute to immensly loud. For the first 30 odd minutes, the film consequently moves through these disarranged claustrophobic scenes of complete silence followed by insane rage. When the snow-flakes or the filthy walls of the prison cell don’t talk, McQuen resorts to brutality; not because he wishes his audiences to walk-away or hide their faces as they cringe their way through it, but because it creates an emotionally relevant wound into their psyche even when the political status or the war of the Irish Republican Army has nothing to do with them.
