“There's another law stronger than the common law. The law of the land.” Two short sentences sum up what The Field is all about. A dark metaphor of gritty life on the land, set on the Irish countryside. The Field succeeds in being dark, very dark. Adapted to the screen from the John B. Keene play of the same name much of the symbolism translates, however most of the character development fails to make the journey. The Field centers on “Bull” McCabe (Richard Harris), a man whose family has farmed a field for generations and intends to do the same for generations to come. This bearded and battered old man has little else to show for his efforts than the fertile soil he rents from a local, mysterious, widow. He continually offers her what little he has for the land to no avail and carries on tending to this land that isn’t his. Here the story could end - Bull would persist on and be happy, though his gruff exterior wouldn’t let on - and no play or movie would be required. But when a smooth American played by Tom Berenger comes on the scene with money to spend and intentions do so McCabe’s simple plans go enormously awry. The field goes on the market for public auction as the widow changes her tune from ‘I won’t sell’, to ‘I’ll sell to whomever, whenever as long as the price is right’. The combination of the auction and the American trigger turmoil and all the formerly contented townsfolk can’t keep to themselves. Meanwhile Bull and his son Tadgh (Sean Bean) decide to settle the score and keep their land. Bean, like Berenger, is given a character with little to sink his acting chops into. Thus begins a plethora of complaints that weigh on the scale opposite Harris’ epic performance. Thin characters are accepted, and almost expected, in so many movies that when a film comes along with the intention of portraying a man’s religious dedication to his land I get excited for the character study. The Field’s study of Bull McCabe will sit with me for a long time. I can hear his words, feel his pain, and genuinely like him for all his many faults because he, in all his delusions, is real. From there the character study ends. The townspeople have the same intricacy found in a video game. As a whole they lack depth, representing mere two-dimensional characters. The tinkers are what tinkers are supposed to be. The bar man is what a bar man is supposed to be. They are made much too simple. The American’s motivation for coming to this particular village to buy this particular field is vague at best and the widow, who controls the entire mess that is unfolding, is as underdeveloped as Barbara Hershey in The Natural. I fail to understand her motivation. If money was her incentive she would have been money-hungry the day her husband left her the field or any of the 16 years thereafter. I could forgive these secondary characters their trespasses and focus solely on Bull if his relationship to his wife, his son Tadgh, and the widow weren’t so weak. Much more could be harvested from the relationship between Bull and his wife. Much more could be made of the long-ago suicide of Bull’s son Seamie and its influence on the family unit, especially the effect on Bull and Tadgh. The brush strokes are there and I’m sure on stage brush strokes are enough. But stage and screen are two entirely different formats for a reason. The Field is not about a field after all, but about timeless questions. What rights do men have to land? There are fiscal rights to everything, yes, but where do god-given rights cease to exist in favor of monetary ones. The Field captures the spirit of the argument for a man’s right to the fruits of his labor in a time when leaders of the political realm and captains of industry have sullied the idea. Bull McCabe embodies the oldest guard of the old country: grit, determination, and apology to nobody but the almighty. He might be seen as delusional by most, but a man will often lose control of his emotions when his livelihood is being ripped away from him. Bull is made into a dark character. Almost too dark at times, but it works. Harris is a pro and Bull translates because of that. More than anything else The Field becomes both an annotation and a condemnation of one man’s devotion. Bull is so obsessed with his field and his way of life, that he loses sight of what the field is actually supposed to represent. He forgets about everything but the land and in doing so he loses everything but the land. Despite Harris’ compelling performance The Field ultimately falls victim to the same plight as Bull McCabe: by focusing so tirelessly on epic symbolism that is all The Field is eventually left with.