Ahead of what looks to be a certain – at the time of writing – best actor win for his work on Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, Cillian Murphy leads this absorbing drama from Belgian filmmaker Tim Mielants; a story about a working-class father who has questions about the local convent who has more than a hold on a small town in Ireland.
Based upon the 2021 novel of the same name by Claire Keegan (whose previous work, Foster was adapted into The Quiet Girl to international acclaim), and from a screenplay by Enda Walsh, the film is set in the mid-eighties, specifically during the lead-up to Christmas. Murphy is Bill Furlong, owner of a small coal and fuel firm in the harbour town of Wexford on the southeastern coast of Ireland. Bill is a devoted father of four girls, happily married to a doting wife, Eileen (Eileen Walsh), and an absolute grafter. He’s a hands-on boss, out delivering the coal to townsfolk during a snow-covered, seriously bleak midwinter, while his eldest daughter, Grace (Aoife Gaffney) mans the phones back in the office.
His days see him leave the house by dawn and not returning until dark, hands calloused as covered in black from his day delivering fuel to those that need it. One such client is the local convent, which also runs the neighbouring school for girls, one which Bill hopes his daughters will attend when they become old enough to. During one such delivery, Bill makes a discovery that not only sees him question the convent’s actions, but also unlocks some deeply rooted personal memories, buried deep within.
The actions of the Magdalene Laundries have been heavily documented in many recent years; everything from The Magdalene Sisters in 2002, to Stephen Frears’ Philomena over a decade later. The subject was also covered in the more recent fictional TV series The Woman In The Wall with Ruth Wilson, though events were based around the shocking truth. Mielants’ new film centers more on Murphy’s character, a religious but questioning soul who has an inherent sadness about him, the reasons for which are slowly presented in the narrative.
An engrossing, brooding drama and Murphy delivers a nuanced, softly spoken performance – up there with his best.
As you may expect, Murphy is fantastic as Bill; a stunning portrayal of a man who is both proud of his achievements as a father and husband, but also melancholic about other things, now not present. His dealings with the church, specifically with the absolutely frightening Mother Superior – brilliantly portrayed by Watson – bring back harrowing memories of the past – of a Christmas long ago.
Mielants, reuniting with Murphy after working with him on season three of TV hit Peaky Blinders, plots the gifted actor into a cinematic environment where words are spoken largely without dialogue, the lead’s mannerisms and expressions enough to let the audience know what he’s thinking or feelings. The cinematography, by regular Lukas Dhont collaborator Frank van den Eeden, is damp and miserable to complement this – and I do mean that as a complement – along with the brilliant set design. Parts of the film are set in Bill’s childhood days in the 1950s, and, save for a loud truck on which coal is delivered and Les Dawson and Danger Mouse playing on a household TV, the events in the 1980s also feel that they could belong in an older period, too. Indeed, it is obvious that local views haven’t changed in more ways than one between these two specific times.
Small Things Like These might indeed be small in scale compared to the colossal box-office juggernaut that was Murphy’s previous work as an actor, but this brooding drama and his nuanced, softly spoken performance is sure to stick with you for days after the credits roll.
A subtle, engrossing, and at times heartbreaking and thought-provoking adaptation of the source material.
Small Things Like These was reviewed at the 2024 Berlin International Film Festival.
Small Things Like These
Summary
A thought-provoking feature adaptation of the source material, superbly staged and delivered. Murphy is at his absolute best, once again.
