It would be nice to say that Hodges' movie about an IRA man - chopped about by other hands, laden with opprobrium after Enniskillen - is a noble ruin. Actually, it is so preposterously melodramatic that you can relish every minute. Sickened by killing, IRA hit man Fallon (Rourke, great accent) flees to England, contacting crime boss Meehan (Bates, camp) to get a new passport. Meehan's price is one more hit, but in carrying out the contract Fallon is seen by Father Da Costa (Hoskins, ludicrously miscast). To silence the priest, Fallon tricks him into hearing his confession, but the police and an IRA hit team are closing in. There is still time, however, for Fallon to fall in love with the priest's blind, organ-playing niece, and for ex-SAS Father DaCosta to go berserk and flatten three heavies with a dustbin lid. Will Fallon manage to rescue priest and niece, who are tied to the top of the belfry tower with a time-bomb, and thereby save his soul, if not his ass?