Like all those who have criticized this movie, I too missed the point, because to me it just seemed a less than ordinary movie about ordinary people. I never saw the stage play, perhaps here lies the rub: that kind of continuity that films need (and plays don't, being divided into macro scenes) is totally lacking. The result is that the structure of this movie slackens and shows gaps as big as those of matter at the molecular level. I agree, the setting is beautiful: movies dealing with peoples who have strong traditions and attachment to their land must inevitably try to make the landscape one more actor. But when a work of "art" (lesser art) shows so blatantly its inner pathos-inducing mechanism, then the use of a spectacular landscape just makes things worse, as in the case of Dancing at Lughnasa: "folkloristic" in the worst acceptation of the term. Exemplary in this sense the voice off of the boy, Michael, who in the end has the nerve to say something like "I will remember those years as the most beautiful of my life" after having spent the whole movie interacting with the characters much less than any of the bushes in Mundy family's courtyard.