THE WORLD ACCORDING TO `COLLINS' : PUTTING IRISH HERO'S LIFE IN PERSPECTIVE.

Byline: Janet Weeks Daily News Staff Writer

``It is my considered opinion that in the fullness of time, history will record the greatness of Michael Collins, and it will be recorded at my expense.''

_ Eamon De Valera, 1966.

If ever a man nailed his own epitaph, it was the late Irish president Eamon De Valera, the man who ruled the island republic almost without interruption from 1932 until 1971.

History - in the form of Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan - has indeed recorded the greatness of Michael Collins, the patriot who brilliantly brought Britain to its knees at the century's start with nothing more than a ragtag bunch of boys on bicycles.

And, as De Valera himself predicted nine years before his death at 92, that greatness is being told largely at the expense of Eamon De Valera.

Jordan's ``Michael Collins'' biopic stars strapping Liam Neeson as the vigorous Collins, a man credited with developing guerrilla warfare techniques in Ireland's struggle against British rule that were later copied by Mao Tse-Tung in China and Yitzhak Shamir in Israel.

Jordan paints Collins as a hero and great statesman who desperately wanted peace but recognized that a price had to be paid to achieve independence and stability.

A Catholic from the rural County Cork, Neeson's Collins exudes charm, brawn and brains. He whips the Irish Volunteers, a band of poorly armed peasants, into a force capable of challenging the British army. He masterminds the assassinations of 16 British intelligence agents in a single day.

Most Irish historians and Michael Collins experts have little argument with Jordan's portrayal of the man. They say Collins was a brave, patriotic man who died at 31 fighting for peace and freedom.

``He's one of my heroes,'' says Irish-born Alan Ward, a government professor and Michael Collins scholar who teaches at the College of William and Mary in Virginia. ``I compare him to Nelson Mandela or Rabin. He had a strong record of fighting, but he knew when to deal.''

But few agree on Jordan's depiction of De Valera, played by Alan Rickman as a cheerless politician lacking Collins' charisma.

At the beginning of the film, De Valera is Collins' mentor and co-conspirator. The two surrender together to the British after a six-day standoff at the Dublin General Post Office in 1916. The siege is commonly referred to as the Easter Rising. Collins later helps break De Valera out of jail.

The film's ending, however, leaves questions about De Valera's complicity in the 1922 ambush that left Collins dead. De Valera and Collins had become foes in the Irish civil war, and Collins' death helped pave the way for De Valera's rise to power.

In a statement about his film, Jordan says he made several assumptions about the ``murky circumstances'' surrounding Collins' death.

``One was that Eamon De Valera was in the vicinity at the time, which is true. Two, that Collins was trying to arrange some conciliatory meeting with those on the opposing side of the war, which is also true. Three, that Collins was ambushed and shot by a renegade band on his way to a meeting, which I believe to be true.''

One of the final scenes shows De Valera, visibly upset, in the area of a pub where Collins is drinking. De Valera then speaks briefly to a young man who turns up later as one of Collins' assassins. Jordan admits to ``constructing the drama'' of the film's last 10 minutes based on his research.

``I didn't mean to imply that De Valera knew (of plans to kill Collins),'' Jordan said in a telephone conversation last week. ``I just mean that he was powerless to prevent that. He was not involved in the ambush or the planning or any of it. It was organized by the Republican command.

``You have to look very carefully at what they say in the movie. The young kid tells Collins, `De Valera will meet you tomorrow.' Clearly, he was not acting on De Valera's command.''

That closing scene, however, is likely to be the most controversial of the film. Historians who see De Valera as an innocent likely will complain that he has been vilified. In fact, there is debate over whether Collins was deliberately assassinated at all.

Journalist Bob Reilly, a professor at the University of Nebraska who, during a sabbatical in Ireland in 1965, interviewed De Valera, two of Collins' alleged ambushers and a nephew of Collins, says he believes Collins' convoy simply stumbled on opposing forces in the midst of a civil war and drew fire.

``(The gunmen) fired on the convoy mainly to alert the troops up ahead. But Collins, being the person he was, said if they want to fight, let's give 'em fight...The ambushers were down behind dirt firing. And they have to keep their heads down because the place is being raked by machine-gun fire from an armored car. One fellow got halfway down the hill and hid behind a bush. Collins went to reload his rifle. The man behind the bush fired, and it ricocheted off the car and hit him.''

Irishman Jim Smyth, a professor of Irish history at the University of Notre Dame, agrees with Reilly's assessment, saying it's ``fairly certain'' that Collins' death was totally unplanned.

He says revisionists have made more of a JFK-esque conspiracy out of Collins' death because it fuels his status as a martyr.

``History is very politicized in Ireland,'' says Smyth. ``There are a lot of arguments in the media and among historians over revisionism. And Michael Collins is a controversial figure because of the grassy knoll factor.''

History is also a volatile subject because the ``troubles'' in Ireland have not subsided. As recently as Monday, terrorists in Northern Ireland were exploding car bombs. And some - mostly the British press - have expressed fear that ``Michael Collins'' will inflame such violence.

But in fact, Jordan's film ultimately tars both the Irish and the British. After the Bloody Sunday hits, the notorious British ``Black and Tans'' are shown firing on innocent people at a soccer match in retaliation. Twelve were killed.

Angus Mackay, vice consul of press and public affairs for the British Consulate General in Los Angeles, confirmed that the attack happened, but said he believes audiences are sophisticated enough to realize that bad things occur during war.

``This was a period of guerrilla warfare. There were atrocities on both sides. It's always difficult to know how much of it had the blessings of the authorities of the day ...

``Most people will say it's just a film. Yes, there were terrible incidents on all sides. It was such a complicated situation. The important thing from the government's point of view is to persevere with the current political talks in Belfast, in the present day without looking back at what may or may not have happened in Ireland.''

Perhaps the most dispiriting aspect of the film is its examination of the civil war, which resulted when Collins' countrymen (led by De Valera) revolted against a treaty that Collins forged with the British. The treaty formed the Free Irish State, with the exception of the six northern, predominantly Protestant counties. It also imposed an oath of allegiance to the British crown.

Even today, some see Collins as a sellout for signing the pact, and De Valera as a hero for opposing it. Others, such as Jordan, believe Collins signed a flawed pact because he saw it as a stepping stone to total independence.

Jordan says he spent 13 years researching Collins and his role in the civil war and that his script is historically accurate. He said he avoided any assumptions - except those about Collins' death - because the Irish hold strong opinions about the war and its roots.

``The issues are still very hot issues in Ireland today,'' he said. ``In Ireland, people take hard and fast positions. I didn't want this film to perpetuate any myths.''

CAPTION(S):

Photo

Photo: Alan Rickman, left, Liam Neeson and Aidan Quinn in ``Michael Collins.'' Rickman plays Irish president Eamon De Valera, who was Neeson's title character's mentor and co-conspirator.