| Be thankful Kenneth Griffith still
speaks his mind, for
every time he does, the world learns a little something. At 76, he hasn't lost the zest for battle. He still leans in across a table to make a point, his eyes fixed in conviction. He knows he's right, and he wants you to share in the truth. First, he'll tell you he's a Welsh Protestant, not that it should matter much. But he's setting the stage, as any good director must. "If any Irish people think I'm impertinent for inviting myself, I'm a Celt, as they are," he says, eyes aimed, ready, fire. Griffith has made more than 40 films, starting with Peter Sellers, Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Peter O'Toole. He's also directed a series of films on Irish nationalism. His film on the life of Michael Collins, "Hang Up Your Brightest Colors," is a classic. The Brits banned it for 21 years. Still, he's Welsh and Protestant and wants to make that clear. "I said to a Welsh nationalist, 'The day you assert solidarity with Sinn Fein you can count on me.'" And he's written Tony Blair, telling him it's "the British presence in Ireland that's the problem." A British problem, you see, not an Irish one. Griffith was in the United States last week to promote his videos and to make the rounds of the Irish-American clubs. In New York, it led, he said, to a near row at a Lexington Avenue saloon, where the old fella took off his jacket in prelude to battle (knowing full well he had plenty of backup) to defend the honor of Michael Collins. "Are you suggesting that Michael Collins was perhaps not the best republican Ireland ever had?" he demanded of a Scotsman at the bar who had said Collins sold out the six counties. Sensitive stuff, especially today. But Griffith knows his history and his Collins. The measure of his sincerity can be seen in the fact that his home address is "Michael Collins House, London, SW1." The guns never really went off. The two were, well, a bit unmatched, and later, Griffith said, the two hugged and made up. He just felt it was a bit odd that a Welshman and a Scot could get into a punch-up in an Irish-American tavern in Manhattan over a Cork-born leader of the IRA who was killed by others in the IRA way back in 1922. He found the entire scene fascinating. And he watched the parade in New York City on St. Patrick's Day, although it left him a bit dejected. He was upset there was no sign of Martin McGuinness on TV at all that day. He said it was disgusting and appalling. A weakness in the Irish and the cleverness of the English. "If these 300,000 people would attend to their brothers and sisters in the six counties, that would be enough to convince Clinton to press Blair" to get out of Ireland. To Irish Americans, he says, "Please, ask yourselves one question: 'Why are you living in the USA?' What brought your ancestors over? The answer is the evil of England that drove the Irish out of Ireland." Of the people of the six counties, he says they were "stranded under the Union Jack" and Irish America has a "spiritual obligation" to "stand behind those people who couldn't leave the six counties behind you." "I've nothing against parades and green plastic hats. They're good, but it's not just good enough to swagger and bang the drum. Some people are just shallow as a bloody razor blade," he continued. "If there's nothing beyond it, they are despicable in their ignorance." Griffith's message to Irish Americans is clear. Green beer and green bagels, a bit of the craic -- that's all good fun. Bang the drum and high step if you like, but don't stop there. Don't abandon those who were left behind. It's an obligation you can't ignore. He has a message for Tony Blair, too. He wrote it down in a letter that was hand-delivered to the British prime minister. "Blair needs to go before the United Nations for about three hours and apologize for the last 800 years," Griffith had told him. "The removal of the British is the only hope for Ireland. Blair needs to ask the United Nations for help to withdraw from Ireland," he continued. "And the people in the United States, the 40-million Irish Americans, need to look in depth at what happened to the people who were stranded in Ardoyne and in the Bogside. The saddest words I ever heard came from a family in the Bogside.They had the table set, had gone out to get things for my visit, and the father said to me at dinner, 'You know, Mr. Griffith, our greatest sadness is that our brothers and sisters south of the border want to forget about us." He'd like not to think the same of the Irish in America. |