When the country was up in arms again, this time over Wild Mountain Thyme, the film's Irish-American writer-director, John Patrick Shanley, delivered the perfect response.
Shanley told Variety that when he first talked to Emily Blunt about starring in the rom-com, he explained: "I'm not making this movie for the Irish. If you try to get the Irish to love you, no good will come of it. I'm making this movie for everybody else and all the people who want to go to Ireland."
The same logic can be applied to Four Letters of Love, another film to make tourism bosses feel like all their St Patrick's Days have come at once.
Based on Niall Williams' bestseller and adapted by the author himself, the romantic drama stocks up on screen talent and piles on the siúcra as love finds a way.
It's about an artist (Pierce Brosnan), his son (Fionn O'Shea), a painting, and on an island on the other side of Ireland, a poet (Gabriel Byrne), his wife (Helena Bonham Carter), and their daughter (Ann Skelly).
What brings them all together? Well, if "There's no such thing as chance. This was how it was meant to be" tugs at your heartstrings, then you'll be all-in to see magic realism do its thing here.
Once again, the oul place (Donegal and Antrim) looks beautiful - so much so that plenty who'll watch this movie on a plane will ask the cabin crew if it's possible to change course.
Away from the green begets green of that tourism angle, locals will discover that the accent carvery does a roaring trade here. Brosnan goes a-roving before finding a spot to call home, and the people on the island out wesht are from all over the shop, but Helena Bonham Carter makes a far better fist of a brogue than many would imagine.
It's a cosy film, and, as one of its characters would no doubt muse, sure, there's room for that too. Don't be surprised if you've next summer's holiday decided by the closing credits.
