A widescreen stinker in true 1970 form, complete w/ lovemaking in fields of flowers, footprints in the sand, bad generator and horse metaphors, a grossly overblown and incongruous score, wildly inaccurate costumes in polyester, a terrible mostly non-Irish cast butchering the brogue all over the gorgeous on-location scenery of the Dingle peninsula, and an utterly confused message maybe having something to do with war, courage, something? As soon as that parasol went over the cliffs of Mohr only to be retrieved by a retarded man (looking entirely too much like a leprechaun) in a skiff I knew I was in for trouble.