Netflix viewers seeking something deeper than standard thrillers have been left profoundly moved — and quietly devastated — by Small Things Like These, the understated yet powerfully resonant historical drama starring Cillian Murphy. Adapted from Claire Keegan’s acclaimed 2021 novella, this film arrives as a masterclass in restraint, atmosphere, and emotional precision. Set against the backdrop of 1985 Ireland, it explores one ordinary man’s confrontation with uncomfortable truths hidden in plain sight, delivering what many critics and audiences are calling one of Murphy’s most powerful performances to date. With its near-universal acclaim (hovering around 94% on Rotten Tomatoes), the film proves that sometimes the smallest acts of conscience carry the heaviest weight.

Directed by Tim Mielants with a screenplay by Enda Walsh, Small Things Like These unfolds in the small Irish town of New Ross during the cold weeks leading up to Christmas. Cillian Murphy stars as Bill Furlong, a devoted coal merchant, father of five daughters, and husband to Eileen (Eileen Walsh). Bill’s life is defined by routine: hard physical labor delivering coal to homes and institutions around town, providing for his family, and maintaining a quiet sense of decency in a close-knit but watchful community. On the surface, everything appears stable and unremarkable — until a routine delivery to the local convent changes everything.

An Ordinary Man, An Extraordinary Discovery

While making a coal drop at the convent run by the formidable Sister Mary (Emily Watson), Bill witnesses something deeply disturbing: a young girl, shivering and desperate, seemingly held against her will. Her cries cut through the wintry silence, and though he is quickly ushered away, the image lingers. What he initially dismisses as a one-off incident soon reveals itself as part of a larger, darker pattern tied to the convent’s operations. As Bill makes further deliveries and observes more signs of fear and secrecy, he begins to uncover the hidden realities of the Magdalene Laundry system — institutions where “fallen” women and girls were confined, exploited for unpaid labor, and subjected to systemic abuse under the authority of the Catholic Church.

The film never sensationalizes the horror. Instead, it lets the weight of implication build slowly through Bill’s quiet observations and internal struggle. Murphy’s performance is a study in subtlety — conveying volumes through glances, hesitant gestures, and long silences. His face, often filmed in intimate close-ups, registers the growing moral conflict: the pull between self-preservation, community pressure, and an awakening conscience. As a man shaped by his own difficult past — including a childhood marked by loss and kindness from unexpected sources — Bill cannot simply look away. His journey becomes a deeply personal reckoning with complicity, courage, and the cost of doing what is right.

Supporting performances elevate the material further. Eileen Walsh brings warmth and grounded realism as Bill’s wife, who understands the practical dangers of rocking the boat in a town where the Church holds immense sway. Emily Watson is chilling as Sister Mary, exuding a calm authority that masks institutional power and moral compromise. Michelle Fairley, Clare Dunne, Helen Behan, and others round out a strong ensemble that captures the layered social dynamics of small-town Ireland in the mid-1980s.

The Historical Shadow: Magdalene Laundries

Small Things Like These draws its power from real history. For decades in Ireland, Magdalene Laundries operated as Church-run institutions where thousands of women and girls — often unwed mothers, orphans, abuse survivors, or those deemed socially inconvenient — were sent away from society. They performed grueling unpaid labor, faced psychological and physical mistreatment, and frequently had their children taken from them. These places existed into the 1990s, with the last closing in 1996. The film, set in 1985, captures a time when questioning the Church was still largely taboo, and silence protected the powerful.

The story doesn’t aim for broad historical survey. Instead, it focuses on how these systemic wrongs touched ordinary lives. Bill’s growing awareness forces him to confront not only the present-day suffering but echoes from his own past. Flashbacks reveal fragments of his childhood, adding emotional depth and showing how personal history shapes moral choices. The film asks profound questions: What does it mean to be a good man in a society built on looking the other way? How heavy is the burden of small, everyday decisions that accumulate into larger injustices?

Cinematic Craft and Quiet Devastation

Tim Mielants directs with a meditative pace that mirrors the novella’s sparse elegance. Cinematographer Frank van den Eeden captures the bleak beauty of winter in rural Ireland — gray skies, frosted fields, and dimly lit interiors that enhance the sense of isolation and moral chill. The production design feels authentic, from the coal-dusted hands of Bill’s labor to the austere yet imposing convent. Sound design and a restrained score by Senjan Jansen amplify tension without overwhelming the intimate human drama.

At its core, this is a character study elevated by Murphy’s commitment. Fresh off his Oscar-nominated work in Oppenheimer, he delivers something entirely different here: a performance of profound interiority. Bill is not a flashy hero or loud rebel. He is an everyman whose quiet integrity becomes revolutionary in its context. Critics have praised the film as a “masterpiece” of understatement, one that lingers long after viewing, leaving audiences shaken by its emotional honesty and moral clarity.

Why It Resonates So Deeply Today

Small Things Like These feels both rooted in the past and strikingly relevant. In an era still grappling with institutional accountability, abuse scandals, and the courage required to speak truth to power, Bill Furlong’s story serves as a quiet call to conscience. It reminds viewers that change often begins not with grand gestures but with individuals refusing to ignore what they have seen. The film’s focus on fatherhood adds another layer — Bill’s protectiveness toward his daughters sharpens his awareness of vulnerability and injustice faced by girls and women.

As a co-production between Ireland and Belgium, and one of Murphy’s first major projects through his own Big Things Films, the movie carries personal significance for its star and producer. Its theatrical release earned strong acclaim at festivals like Berlinale, where Emily Watson won recognition for her supporting role. Its quiet arrival on Netflix has introduced it to a wider global audience, many of whom report being deeply affected by its emotional aftertaste.

This is not easy viewing in the conventional sense. There are no explosive confrontations or tidy resolutions. Instead, the power lies in its accumulation of small things: a shared glance, a withheld truth, a decision to act despite fear. It is haunting precisely because it feels so real — a reflection of how history’s darkest chapters were enabled by everyday silence and how bravery can look deceptively ordinary.

For those seeking cinema that challenges, moves, and lingers, Small Things Like These stands as a standout. Cillian Murphy once again proves why he is one of the finest actors of his generation, delivering a performance of such nuance and depth that it may well rank among his career best. In a noisy streaming landscape, this quiet Irish drama speaks volumes — and leaves viewers forever changed by the weight of its moral questions. Watch it when you’re ready for something profound. You may not shake its impact easily.