‘Small Things Like These’: Cillian Murphy Is Quietly Courageous in Magdalene Laundries Tale

Alci Rengifo

Some of the most oppressive policies or practices in a society can stay under the surface. Cillian Murphy plays a man slowly building to confront such a reality in “Small Things Like These,” a moving slow burner that builds to powerfully simple actions. It is a wise choice for Murphy who, after winning an Oscar for “Oppenheimer,” could have easily done the same as some of his peers and jumped into a mega franchise. Instead, he returns home to Ireland for a film of melancholic, though not depressive, textures. He is playing a hero, but one of those who falls into the role accidentally while trying to get by in the world.

Murphy plays Bill Furlong, a coal merchant in the Irish town of New Ross. It is Christmas season in 1985 and silence seems to reign in the streets, as everyone keeps to themselves. Bill walks with an almost defeated air. His home feels warm enough with wife Eileen (Eileen Walsh) and their daughters, including Joan (Giulia Doherty) who helps run the business. Bill observes the world around him in a quiet manner, observing a couple across the street having an argument, or briefly stopping to see a homeless child drinking from a dish for stray cats. Flashbacks reveal Bill’s childhood as the son of a single mother (Agnes O’Casey), who survived thanks to the kindness of an older woman, Mrs. Wilson (Michelle Fairley). While making a delivery to a local convent Bill discovers that it is secretly running a Magdalene laundry. When one of the young women at the laundry, Sarah (Zara Devlin), tries to escape and find shelter in Bill’s business, he faces a tough choice.

What exactly were Magdalene laundries? They were primarily Catholic-run, state supported, institutions in Ireland that continued from the mid-18th century to late-20th century. What started as secretive forced labor laundries by the Protestant and Catholic churches to combat prostitution through rehabilitating “fallen and wayward women” quickly corrupted, becoming nothing more than abusive asylums that continued to imprison thousands upon thousands of females, who were sent to these laundries for a wide range of reasons, including being flirtatious, having unmarried sex, becoming pregnant outside of marriage, and even victims of rape and other abuses. But director Tim Mielants’ film is an adaptation of a 2021 novella by Claire Keegan, so this story is told through the uncertain, fearful eyes of Bill. Life’s trials have not left him overly heroic or defiant. He is like a pressure cooker, holding in his reservations and preferring the safety of staying at home and following a routine. Eileen clearly knows she married a tender man, and warns that he has always been too nice for this world.

The screenplay by Enda Walsh becomes an engaging character study. When Sarah comes asking for help, Bill isn’t an instant savior. He certainly feels for the girl, and tells a judgmental Eileen that he would have been lost if someone had not been kind to his mother, who we can be certain faced immense prejudice for being a single mother in a rigid Irish Catholic society. Even with empathy, most people still feel the temptation to look away, as Bill does when the nuns initially shove him out of the convent upon him seeing what is taking place. Someone like Eileen is sure the convent is simply a shelter for women, but what Bill finds is a secret workhouse for slave labor. Cillian Murphy plays the role so well we feel the shame and fear in his character come off the screen. It is absolutely relatable. We would like to think we could be instant heroes, when in reality most people like to avoid conflict. In New Ross challenging the church is also not a joke. This film is set in the ’80s, when the institution still holds a deep sway over the population. Crossing Sister Mary (Emily Watson), who runs the convent, can mean excommunication or denying your children a good school.

“Small Things Like These” is imagined with a chill in the air and lonely avenues, as if this place were one whole endurance arena for Bill’s soul. The great, culminating scene has him sitting face to face with Sister Mary, who beams with stern authority. She is both a religious authority and a cold political operator, giving Bill money as an act of charity, when in reality it is a clear method of control. “Small Things Like These” poses the challenge of what should be the price of looking away. It applies to our workplaces, politics and moral choices. Bill can relate to the plight of the girls in the convent. But is it any of his business? The answer is not always so easy. Cillian Murphy summons these contradictions and emotions with masterful subtlety. When Bill makes his final decision, it comes across powerfully without a single word spoken. In life (and in art) actions speak best as the strongest way to brush away the darkness of injustice.

“Small Things Like These” releases Nov. 8 in select theaters.