Director Jim Sheridan follows up 'My Left Foot' with another compelling Irish bio-pic. Sheridan is excellent at drawing on the audiences' every emotion, and sucking us into the heart of a story. This film begins so modestly you are almost shocked by the dramatic turns it eventually takes. It builds slowly from a riot in the streets of Belfast where Gerry Conlon is mistaken for a sniper on a roof top when he's 'jammin' on a large stick pretending it to be a guitar. From its humble beginnings the film takes a dramatic turn when Gerry is charged with the bombing of a British pub in London. This accusation leaves you just as shocked and appauled as the characters who are charged with the crime. As you're taken on this horrific journey with Gerry you begin to share the hatred and resentment for the falsely accusing officers, the British legal system and the men who committed the bombing in the first place. During our time where we're all questioning what we were told is the right thing 'In the Name of the Father' rings true, and makes us want to pull the wool from our eyes and stand up for what we know to be right, no matter who stands in our way.