Like any good Irishman, I love a good story. (Like any good Irishman, I also love a stiff drink, but that's another article.) If it's a good story about the Irish, all the better. Darby O'Gill and the LIttle People...The Brothers McMullen...anything except Leprechaun. That movie shelacks my shillelagh.

That's why I love Waking Ned Devine so much: it's a damn good story, the kind of tale that my grandpa might have spun over several beers at the neighborhood bar. And the Irish have never needed a good story more than they do now. Lately, we've been getting quite a bad rap in the entertainment world, thanks largely to the efforts of fellow Chicagoan Michael Flatley, who's actually no more Irish than Don Vito Corleone. The Lord of the Fancy Pants and his ilk have launched this whole disgusting Celtic craze, clawing a big chunk out of the heart of Irish culture and bastardizing it for all to enjoy.

With timing seemingly inspired by Irish luck, Devine has arrived on the scene to flush all this faux Celtic crap down the toilet and replace it with some genuine charm and blarney. Ned Devine is one of the fifty or so residents of the village of Tully More, and the good news is that he's just won the national lottery. The bad news is that he died of a heart attack upon hearing the news and his corpse sits alone in his tiny home while two lottery-obsessed old pals, Jackie O'Shea (Ian Bannen) and Michael O'Sullivan (David Kelly), scheme to uncover the mystery of which Tully More resident has hit the big money. Once O'Shea finds Devine's corpse, he decides to trick the lottery into believing that O'Sullivan is Ned Devine. Before long, the entire village is dragged into the deception, and they've got to pull the proverbial wool over the eyes of an Irish lottery official in order to split the 6.9 million pound prize between the whole lot of them.

It's a hoot of a plot, but the real joy in Devine is the richness and warmth of the characters. From top to bottom, every performance is infused with earthy life, and Kirk Jones' screenplay and direction has enough sympathy for his creations that the viewer is quickly rooting for Jackie and Michael's deception to come off without a hitch. Especially exceptional are Bannen and Kelly as the two leads. The movie's funniest moments arise from their scheming together, where a panicked glance from Michael or a shocked expression from Jackie says more than all the stammering in the world could express. Their acting work is very real, yet also clever and sly.

The best thing about Devine is that it rarely overcompensates and launches into wild craziness. Often when an ad campaign revolves around how joyous and "life-affirming" a film is, the movie itself tries way to hard to affirm lives, actually going way overboard and pushing the viewer away. Devine has an uncanny ability to involve the viewer subtly, quietly. It doesn't need a wacky doctor played by Robin Williams to lift spirits; its greatest joys are found in the lilt of an Irish brogue, or the glint in Michael O'Sullivan's eye as he lies boldly to a lottery official. That subtle magic is why Devine is so masterful, and it's also why it's Irish.

If all you know of Ireland is some fruit in a blouse tap-dancing with forty of his lackeys, then for the love of God, PLEASE see Waking Ned Devine. It's a glorious celebration of what the Irish spirit is really about: love, shenanigans and wit. It's also a damn well-made film comedy, earthy and spiritual at the same time and infused with a glow that will stay on your face well after you've left the theater. More than anything, it's a guaranteed great night at the movies. If that ain't the luck of the Irish, I don't know what is.