This captivating documentary harks back to the days before the Celtic Tiger era in Ireland, drawing parallels between Leon Gast’s timeless masterpiece “When We Were Kings”. There are striking similarities between the two narratives, with each chronicling an unlikely fight for a world boxing title. Chris Eubank, noted for his distinctive personality, stepped into the role of George Foreman, with Steve Collins standing as our Muhammad Ali. Ireland’s County Cork served as the backdrop in place of Kinshasa, and Paul Howard filled the role of Norman Mailer. These playful comparisons are not aimed to diminish Andrew Gallimore’s successful documentary but rather to highlight it.
Gallimore’s film strikes a balance of humour and respect, offering a compelling narrative that leaves viewers encouraged by the characters portrayed. It’s packed with substance and neatly presented.
In 1995, the articulate and monocle-wearing Eubank was enjoying his peak years in London. When a scheduled title defence against Ray Close fell through, Steve Collins, a clever middleweight boxer from Cabra who had taken ten years to reach his prime, stepped up a weight category to seize the opportunity. The showdown ended up taking place in an unexpected location – the Green Glens Arena in Millstreet, leaving the likes of Las Vegas, Atlantic City and Kinshasa behind.
Coming off as the unlikely hero of the time is Noel C. Duggan, the owner of the Green Glens Arena. He describes the period as challenging, with most of the incoming revenue being channelled to Dublin. However, his grit paid off as he managed to host the Eurovision Song Contest in Millstreet in 1993, setting the stage for the epic boxing match.
Barry Hearn, the renowned sports promoter and Eubank’s manager at the time, shares humorous anecdotes about Duggan’s cunning. He jests about how he should have counted his fingers after having a bowl of soup with the clever businessman. The documentary argues that initial expectations were low for the Irish contender. Duggan’s remark that their only concern was for Collins’ safety supports this claim.
As they reached the arena, Eubank was overwhelmed with a sense of discomfort. Despite his robust stature and displayed nonchalance during Collins’s crafty performance at the press briefing (he long addressed in Gaelic), the whispers about the improbability of the contender’s training methods instilled real uncertainty.
A unique figure on the scene was Tony Quinn, a mentor of all trades who admitted to never having watched a boxing match before becoming the nearest Collins had to a coach. Buzz regarding hypnosis and occult practices was widespread.
“That’s absolute nonsense,” declares Hearn dismissively. “The only one who believed it wasn’t nonsense was Chris Eubank. He considered it to be black magic.”
One Night in Millstreet will resonate well with those familiar with the face-off. Insights come from contributors such as Barry McGuigan, known for his interesting commentary, and Paul Howard, a boxing journalist of that period, adding details to unanswered questions (the mere image of a Silk Cut box next to a typewriter evokes a bygone era of reporting). However, those in the dark about the climax might find it even more gratifying.
Expertly manipulating the fight footage, the creators leave us guessing about what the adjudicators might have been thinking. No one reveals the eventual solution. Up until the moment of the victorious announcement, both fighters seem like potential victors.
All local audiences would – although it goes unmentioned – react ambiguously to a transitioning Ireland. The Riverdance era had launched. By just participating, we could clinch the Eurovision title. However, we hadn’t yet reached the point of bathing our pedigree pups in Château Lafite Rothschild. In the blink of an eye…
From April 5th, One Night in Millstreet will be available in cinemas.