‘Small Things Like These’ Review: Cillian Murphy is a Quiet Powerhouse in Aloof Drama from ‘Peaky Blinders’ Helmer Tim Mielants | Chicago International Film Festival

Cillian Murphy is the kind of actor that most directors would kill to have leading their film. His face alone makes for a compelling screen image, as evidenced by the fact that his Oscar-winning performance in Oppenheimer mostly centers around his seemingly-blank yet highly emotional expressions. Small Things Like These – adapted from Claire Keegan’s book – knows this, as director Tim Mielants practically locks the camera onto Murphy (the pair clearly work well together, as Mielants directed the entirety of the third season of the Murphy-starring Peaky Blinders). Nearly every scene centers around Murphy, save for those that depict his character’s childhood. And while Murphy’s natural magnetism does a lot of work on the story’s behalf, it’s told in a manner far too aloof to fully draw in its audience. 

Murphy plays Bill Furlong, a man who spends his days delivering coal to the inhabitants of his small Irish town in 1985. At home, his wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh) tends to their handful of daughters, and the family’s life seems content. One day, while bringing coal to the local convent, Bill witnesses something upsetting – a young woman being dragged inside against her wishes by her mother and one of the nuns. This shocks Bill, but like so many others in his world, he’s been taught not to question the church’s practices. As Christmas approaches, Bill wrestles with the societal pressure to keep his head down and not make waves, even if he knows that’s wrong.

Bill is clearly a good man, and in this story, he’s a stand-in for anyone with a well-tuned moral compass who struggles to do the right thing when it’s far from easy. In fact, most of the film is spent on him going through this inner conflict. He never externalizes this dilemma, choosing instead to keep it inside. Luckily, Murphy is a naturally sympathetic actor, which helps make his character’s inaction understandable. Never for a minute is there any doubt that he wants to help, it’s just a matter of how to do so and whether or not it would lead to more harm than good. 

When Bill sees the young woman being shoved inside the convent, he’s hiding in a doorway, and Murphy is so good at turning his character’s inner emotions into a physical response that he practically appears to shrink before our eyes. Throughout the film, he finds ways to express himself without words, but Murphy never allows his quiet performance to become repetitive or staid. Walsh makes for a worthy counterpart as Bill’s wife. She’s similarly soft spoken, but allows herself to show more outward emotions than her stoic husband. Their bond is easy and apparent, as is their mutual love for their many daughters. It truly feels like they’ve been together for years (in fact, the pair of actors previously worked together in the play Disco Pigs over two decades ago). Emily Watson has a small but pivotal role as the head nun of the convent, Sister Mary. As usual for the actress, Watson brings a focused intensity to the character, but this time it’s hidden under a layer of unexpected, weaponized warmth. She’s clearly aware that the way they treat these “girls in trouble” is cruel, but she’s allowed herself to find excuses for it in the name of religious purity and supposed goodness. She’s terrifying, and it’s understandable why she makes such a fearsome impact on Bill in their climactic scene together.

Mielants constructs a world of unspoken sadness and slow creeping dread. The dreary town is well shot in a way that captures the natural beauty of southeast Ireland, with a patience that allows for the story’s unease to sneak up on the characters, and thus the audience. The all-important convent is portrayed like a haunted house, with terrifying, uncertain sounds floating through its creepy halls. While it makes sense for the film to adopt a removed energy – much like how Bill tries to keep himself far from the town’s apparent troubles – this tonal choice combined with the slow pacing keeps the film from being as compelling as it could be. Indeed, the vast majority of the film centers around Bill’s silent contemplation about what to do, and without a clear drive from the filmmaker, this storytelling choice softens the film’s momentum. It’s possible to create captivating drama out of a character’s inaction (just ask Hamlet), but Mielants directorial style fails to make Bill’s internal back-and-forth into something that the audience is invested in. In fact, the film ends at what’s unquestionably its most dramatic moment, which obviously sends the audience out on a high note, but also makes the rest of the film that came before it feel flat by comparison.

At one point, Bill casually asks his wife “Do you ever get worried?” This simple question is a brief change of pace for the otherwise internalized character, and it’s a surprisingly shocking moment. Small Things Like These tells the story of a man paralyzed by uncertainty, afraid to express himself even to those closest to him, and Cillian Murphy is the perfect actor to bring him to life. The film is lucky to have him, as his engrossing performance makes up for what the film lacks in vigor.

Grade: C+

This review is from the 2024 Chicago International Film Festival. Lionsgate will release Small Things Like These in theaters on November 8.