Small Things Like These

<em>'Small Things Like These'</em> is absorbing.

I basically got exactly what I expected from this one. It's a slow burn, quiet film featuring a stellar, if somewhat understated, Cillian Murphy performance. The pacing is spot on and the story is undoubtedly engrossing, it's one that holds plenty of emotion behind it.

It does conclude rather abruptly, I in fact overheard someone nearby remark "that can't be it" when the cut to black happens. That isn't, for me anyway, a bad thing though. Again, I kinda anticipated it being a movie that would simply tell its tale and end, which is certainly what it does.

It is very much Murphy that stands out from these 98 minutes, but credit is still due for the likes of Eileen Walsh, Emily Watson and Zara Devlin in their respective supporting roles. No-one onscreen puts a foot wrong. All in all, it's evidently a supremely well made picture - one I'd recommend!

A friend of mine used to own a big gay bar in Dublin, and I recall being in it the day that marriage was legalised in Eire. One of the women celebrating was telling us of her childhood at the hands of the nuns in the 1970s. It was a ghastly story of women who hadn't an ounce of compassion between them all, and this film picks up that cudgel and swings it squarely at what it is little better than a religious equivalent of a Dickensian workhouse. The story is told from the perspective of local coal merchant "Bill" (Cillian Murphy) who lives with his wife and five daughters in a small town in Co. Wexford. Nobody has much money and some are reduced to gathering wood from the forest floor to heat their homes. By comparison, his family are quite well off and with Christmas looming all are anticipating a good family time. He supplies the local convent-cum-orphanage where the unwed girls of the community are deposited when they get in the family way, and it's here that he encounters a young lass locked in the coal shed. Freezing and terrified, he wonders how she got herself trapped in there - and that's where the story starts to focus on not just the inhumanity that prevailed, but on the internecine, web-like, tendrils of a church that brooked no resistance or interference. If you want a "peaceable life" then you'd best leave well alone. Can he, though? He is frequently reminded of his own childhood. One of tragedy, kindness, an hot water bottle and a jigsaw puzzle. "Bill" is a troubled man who has much to mull over as his conscience refuses to accept the societal compromises even his wife (Eileen Walsh) might prefer he adopt in the face of what he has now witnessed. This is definitely a less-is-more film, with an effective paucity of dialogue and a sense of oppressiveness that frequently overwhelms with it's simplicity. The setting demonstrates a degree of menace way more poignantly than any horror film, but horror this is - and an illustration of cruelty in it's most devastatingly subtle form. Murphy shines here, his performance allows his character to take us with him as we all observe a scenario unfold that might not have been out of place in 1885 - but in 1985? Not an easy watch, but well worth ninety minutes of your time.

When it comes to minimalism in filmmaking, there’s deftly deliberate understatement, which can be a decidedly valuable asset, and then there’s cryptic obfuscation, which frequently leaves viewers scratching their heads. And, when it comes to this fourth feature outing from director Tim Mielants, the line between the two is undeniably and confusingly razor thin, a tale that’s so exceedingly nuanced and purposely restrained that one often wonders exactly what it’s trying to say. Set in 1985, the film tells the story of Bill Furlong (Cillian Murphy), a hard-working Irish coal merchant struggling to make ends meet for his wife (Eileen Walsh) and five daughters. As a soft-spoken, kind-hearted soul, he readily helps others in need, a compassionate streak he developed in childhood when his younger self (Louis Kirwan) and unwed mother, Sara (Agnes O’Casey), were graciously taken in by a wealthy benefactor (Michelle Fairley) when they were summarily ostracized by Sara’s family, a story thread depicted in a series of flashbacks. That quality comes to define Bill’s nature, resurfacing recurringly years later. But its impact becomes most apparent when he makes a coal delivery to the local convent, where he witnesses the infliction of unduly cruel treatment on a pregnant teen (Zara Devlin), one of many such young women who reside at the facility while waiting to give birth. As it turns out, the convent is part of Ireland’s infamous network of Magdalene laundries, facilities run by the Catholic Church where young unwed mothers-to-be were essentially treated like slave labor in exchange for room and board during their pregnancies, a program that operated largely unknown on the Emerald Isle for more than 75 years. And, when Bill meets with the convent’s cold-hearted Mother Superior, Sr. Mary (Emily Watson), about a subsequent incident, he witnesses just how troubling the conditions can get, He’s torn how to respond, too, given the stranglehold that the Church and the convent have over the lives of virtually everyone in the surrounding community. Indeed, what is he to do? From the foregoing summary, this would seem to make for an intriguing movie premise, but virtually every aspect of the film is so willfully downplayed that it barely scratches the surface of this shocking story, one that rocked Ireland and the Church worldwide when it ubiquitously surfaced in the mainstream media. To make matters worse, the film lacks any significant emotional depth, never doing much to draw audiences into the story or the lives of its characters. In large part that’s attributable to the undercooked screenplay and its woeful character development, which is so subdued that little stands out about who these individuals are, with nearly all of the cast (except for Watson, who turns in a superb portrayal) delivering performances that could have easily been phoned in. While it’s certainly commendable that the filmmaker resisted the temptation to sensationalize this story, the finished product nevertheless fails to deliver the goods. (Indeed, for a better, more engaging, more telling treatment of this subject, watch the excellent fact-based drama “Philomena” (2013) instead.) It should go without saying that the victims of this unforgivable fiasco truly deserve better than what’s depicted in this release, and it’s regrettable that they don’t get it, no matter how noble the intentions of this picture’s creators might have been.