Dropping at the tail end of awards season where people are still obsessing over the same six movies they’ve been talking about for that many months, the Berlin International Film Festival always feels like a breath of fresh air. And yes, the timing has driven high profile awards contenders increasingly to Cannes and Venice, but true cinephiles know to appreciate the carefully curated lineup of the Berlinale where the gems are often less obvious. Even in an exceptional year for movies like 2023, I consider Afire, Tótem and more to be among the very best of what I’ve seen.
The festival’s 74th edition will once again showcase the latest works from filmmaking veterans and emerging talents, and opened today with Small Things Like These, the fourth feature of Belgian director Tim Mielants starring potential Oscar winner Cillian Murphy. It’s a gentle, poignant tale about everyday courage that probably won’t send your pulse racing but tugs at your heartstrings and just might make you think.
Set in a coastal town in 1980’s Ireland, Murphy plays Bill, a man of few words who runs a coal delivery company and cares for his four daughters shared with wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh). It’s Christmastime, which not only means extra work for Bill, but also triggers memories in him that reveal truths about this family man with a seemingly uneventful life. Haunted by scenes from his past, Bill accidentally discovers something at the local convent run by Mother Mary (Emily Watson) and falls into a deep crisis of conscience.
For the book nerds out there, Small Things Like These is kind of a big deal. Published in 2021, it was shortlisted for the prestigious Booker Prize and considered by many to be an instant Christmas classic. At just over 100 pages, the novella feels light as snow but packs a visceral emotional punch characteristic of author Claire Keegan’s works. And despite the fact that Mielants’ commendably subtle visual language can’t match the sheer splendor of Keegan’s prose (then again, what can?), I think overall the film did right by its source material, thanks in large part to the beautiful performances it captured.
In his first starring role post-Oppenheimer, Murphy wants you to forget all about the history-changing genius and enter the mind of a blue-collar working man who struggles to find the words for what he sees and feels. In an early scene, Billy stops the car to have a brief exchange with a destitute boy walking by the side of the road. In typically Irish fashion, very little is actually said, but from the way he considers the boy, starts and then decides against asking him something, or the way he leaves the boy only to turn back around again, you can sense the conflicting thoughts spinning in his head and immediately grasp something fundamental about this character.
There are many quiet scenes like this that leave things unspoken but communicate volumes through Murphy’s ever-so-expressive face. Whether it’s him staring out a misty window, lying awake in bed at night, or tearing up remembering a childhood he’s just starting to understand, the camera often lingers on those pale blue eyes whose nuclear power the whole world has learned about last year. If anything the film might be a little too reliant on close-ups of its leading man, but you can’t really fault Mielants for favoring the biggest weapon in his arsenal.
Also breathing life into the unforgettable ordinary people created by Keegan are Walsh and Watson. The former doesn’t have any show-stopping moment but brings such unaffected, authentic presence to the part it gives even more texture to the moral dilemma faced by the protagonist. In a scene where Eileen tries to persuade Billy of thinking of their family first and not jeopardizing what little they have by minding business not their own, Walsh gives you the indignation, fear and shame of a woman who secretly sees everything, arguing compellingly that “doing the right thing” isn’t always as simple as it sounds. Watson, meanwhile, plays against type in the sole villainous role and adds quite a bit of juice to this otherwise understated film. To be sure, she didn’t do the Evil Nun caricature, but it’s a delight to see her be the one terrorizing everybody in the room with that probing gaze and cold diction.
I do wish the film would have more of a distinctive style or be more adventurous narratively, but ultimately the performances provide it with the human touch essential for such a human story. Like the book, the film ends with a dialogue-free scene. We see two people turning a corner at the end of a narrow corridor, disappearing from view. It’s the simplest set-up, but when the hint of a smile suddenly spreads across one of the faces on screen, you kind of feel overwhelmed by a sense of connection and hope that requires absolutely no words.
The 74th Berlinale, which is the last edition under artistic director Carlo Chatrian, runs February 15-25. Including Small Things Like These, 20 films are competing for the Golden Bear which will be handed out by an international jury chaired by Oscar winner Lupita Nyong’o.
