Small Things Like These review: Powerhouse performances in a gripping story

Not the Christmas movie most expect, but definitely the one worth watching this season, Claire Keegan’s heralded novel Small Things Like These comes alive with subtle intensity on the big screen courtesy of director Tim Mielants’ (Wil) delicate touch. Centered around Ireland’s notorious Magdalene institutions, Catholic orders which housed thousands of young women, the film explores tragic realties revealed as one man grapples with morality amidst a community of deference. Excellent close up shots capture a gritty yet humble feel that besets the area and its’ inhabitants.

Cillian Murphy fortifies his 2024 Oscar win, gracefully portraying loyal family man and steadfast coal merchant Bill Furlong. While the Holiday spirit consumes the small Irish town of New Ross in the mid-80’s, Furlong is numb to the yuletide mood. His harrowed past creeps up, joining a new crisis of principle that covers him in a blanket of burden. Hostile treatment of the girls he witnesses in the local covenant at the hands of the Nuns’ doesn’t sit with him. While servicing the location one day, Bill is jolted by a young girl pleading through a face full of terror just before one of the sisters intervenes, scolding him for venturing inside the asylum’s walls. 

At home, Bill’s wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh, Eden) questions her husband’s odd silence, to which he asks, “do you ever worry?”. Noting his softhearted nature, she reminds him that there are things in life one must look past to ensure their own best interests, in this case those of their sizeable family’s. But that’s what compounds his stress, the imagined fear of his own children suffering. Murphy’s emotional anguish is infectious. Although his character remains quiet and reserved, the tension bubbling inside is ferocious.

Standout performances that enrich the plot

After encountering young Sara (Zara Devlin, Ann) hiding in the coal shed trembling, she reveals the secret at the root of her dread, begging for his help. Discovered by the sisters, the two are brought inside under concerned and caring guise, where we meet the intimidating and menacing matriarch Sister Mary, played by Oscar-nominated Emily Watson at her best. Diffused and deterred by the Sister’s imposing demeanor, Bill is left to tread home with his head down and mouth closed. 

Mielants’ talents at the helm allows the cast’s performances to materialize into the larger story, each role brought to its’ height. Shot on location, he treats the setting as a character in itself, reflecting the same qualities as its residents. Murphy was enamored with the book, and he and Mielants reunited since Peaky Blinders to bring the movie to fruition. 

Without redundancy, the tale touches on persisting themes in the Irish diaspora, those of shame, resistance, guilt, and a perilous commitment to do what’s just. A pivotal scene of Bill furiously trying to scrub the dirty coal from his palms asserts figuratively how he cannot wash his hands of the reality he now knows. With everyone and everything encouraging his complacency, Murphy build’s Bill’s inner turmoil with a culminating pace.

Less is certainly more here. Running at 1:38, the fat is trimmed in this quiet viewing. The lack of excessive dialogue, loud scenes, or much music, all add to the uncomfortable dilemma. Refusing to be another dead fish swimming with the stream, the protagonist fights to answer where one’s responsibility to do right begins and ends. Capped with a masterful ending, this picture has all you need. 

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