The Divine Ryans suffers from the crippling dullness and the mutedly, cool detachment that stifles so many Canadian films when they try to be serious – Atom Egoyan and Patricia Rozimer are two guilty offenders, it is a failing that even David Cronenberg suffers from. But despite a slow start, The Divine Ryans picks up considerably as it progresses. The territory of the staunch Catholic childhood is one that has been trodden before but still proves a fruitful one in large due to a series of well-drawn and endearing characterizations – the film is particularly amusing whenever Pete Postlethwaite’s eccentric uncle is on screen. The film is considerably carried by Wayne Johnston’s screenplay that is constantly making a series of quite sophisticated puns – talk of ‘dehumourizers’; ’iceolation’; the ‘apuckalypse’ – mention is made by the father as to how the stars in the sky were created by ice hockey pucks, thus the apuckalypse becomes a bizarre nightmare sequence where all the pucks fall to Earth at once; ‘oralysis’ sessions – Pete Postlethwaite’s uncle’s reversal of analysis where the patient pays and the psychologist does all the talking and for their amusement; and the ‘Momataur’ – a vision of the Minotaur with breasts and high heels that pursues the young hero demanding a kiss.