Small Things Like These — A Quiet Yet Profound Reflection on Conscience and Complicity
Small Things Like These — A Quiet Yet Profound Reflection on Conscience and Complicity
Small Things Like These is a quiet yet profoundly moving film set in a small Irish town during Christmas of 1985. Through the eyes of a humble coal merchant, Bill Furlong, the film unearths the dark, repressive history of the Magdalene laundries operated by the Catholic Church. Adapted from the novella by Claire Keegan, and starring Cillian Murphy—who also produced the film—this understated work delves deep into themes of conscience, silence, and collective complicity.
I. Repressed Memory and a Silent Society
From the outset, the film is cloaked in a heavy atmosphere: the bleak winter weather, gray tones, and withdrawn townspeople all evoke a suffocating environment. Bill Furlong appears to live a simple, stable life—working hard, caring for his wife and daughters—but flashbacks gradually reveal a painful past: his mother was once confined in a Magdalene institution. This buried trauma serves as the foundation for his moral sensitivity, even if he rarely speaks of it.
The townspeople seem indifferent—or perhaps resigned—to the presence of the convent. This collective silence is one of the film’s most important themes: how do ordinary people navigate the moral tension between their conscience and the power structures around them? The townsfolk’s unwillingness to question the convent is rooted in both fear of church authority and a desire for self-preservation. This normalization of cruelty, enabled by passive silence, becomes a form of social complicity—one that legitimizes systemic violence.
II. Personal Conscience and Moral Choice
Bill’s transformation forms the emotional heart of the film. During a routine coal delivery, he accidentally discovers a girl imprisoned in the convent’s basement. This moment of exposure reawakens something long dormant in him: a mix of compassion, anger, and guilt. The film avoids sensationalizing violence—instead, it uses subtle but powerful details to convey the cruelty of the institution: the bruises on the girl’s hands, her shaven head, the shame and fear in her eyes. These restrained images speak louder than explicit depictions.
Bill’s decision to intervene isn’t heroic in the conventional sense—it’s slow, quiet, and conflicted. He’s not a natural rebel, which makes his awakening all the more powerful. His resistance stems not from ideology, but from basic human decency. By choosing to act, by choosing to care, he disrupts the community’s long-standing silence. His decision to rescue the girl, though modest on the surface, becomes a deeply courageous act—an assertion of conscience against a corrupt system.
III. The Power of Small Gestures
The film’s title, Small Things Like These, is deeply meaningful. It refers to those seemingly trivial actions that carry immense weight—a kind gesture, a word of comfort, a moment of hesitation before walking away. It is through these minor acts that dignity can survive even in the harshest environments. The film argues that change doesn’t always come through grand gestures or revolutions—it can begin with a single, quiet act of humanity.
Cillian Murphy’s performance is a masterclass in restraint. His portrayal of Bill is filled with subdued emotion—haunted by memory, yet tender in his resolve. He doesn’t shout, doesn’t posture; he simply stands firm. His quiet persistence becomes the film’s moral center. In a world dulled by cruelty, his compassion becomes a radical act.
IV. A Dual Critique: Historical and Universal
Small Things Like These is not just an indictment of a specific historical injustice—it’s a broader meditation on structural violence and the moral cost of silence. The Magdalene laundries were a tragic chapter in Ireland’s history, but the film uses them to explore universal questions: How do systems of oppression endure? What role does ordinary indifference play? And how can individual conscience stand against such power?
Importantly, the film does not offer a tidy resolution. We don’t know what happens to Bill and the girl after he takes her away. This open ending is not a narrative flaw, but an intentional provocation: after you choose to speak up, are you prepared for the consequences? The film doesn’t romanticize heroism—it asks whether we can still protect our humanity in a world that punishes empathy.
Conclusion
Small Things Like These is a film of quiet intensity, offering a slow-burning but deeply affecting exploration of conscience, memory, and moral courage. Through minimalism in storytelling, imagery, and performance, it draws the audience into a meditative space. It is not a film that shouts, but one that whispers truths with devastating clarity.
By centering on the small, ordinary acts of one man, it underscores a profound truth: even in the darkest of times, a flicker of kindness can challenge vast systems of injustice. It reminds us that heroism doesn’t always wear a cape—sometimes it looks like a man refusing to look away.
More than just a piece of cinema, Small Things Like These is a moral inquiry into silence and complicity, and a quietly powerful reminder of the light that can live in the smallest human choices.
