The Quiet Girl
A quiet, neglected girl from a big family spends a summer with her wealthier relatives in this moving debut feature from Colm Bairéad
Light seeps through the kitchen window, sunrays resting on an impeccably clean table where anxious hands lie waiting for small feet to come tumbling down the stairs. The hands belong to Eibhlín (Carrie Crowley), and the feet to Cáit (Catherine Clinch). The former is a childless mother; the latter is a child who has never known motherly love.
This is Ireland, somewhere in the 1980s, and Cáit is dropped off at Eibhlín and Seán’s (Andrew Bennett) for the summer with very little ceremony, her father much more concerned with coming back to his ever-growing brood than making sure his daughter is settled. The girl is as quiet as the film suggests. Walking through the pristine house she resembles a fidgety mouse, the memories of her crowded, musky home making it hard to assimilate with the reality of the new space. The skilful work of the production design team abet this questioning of the idea of homeliness.
In Colm Bairéad’s arresting feature debut, quietness not only aids the tension of those initial days spent in discomfort but also allows for the tenderness of small acts of kindness to linger – be it a custard cream slipped in mischievous complicity or dirty nails carefully brushed back to cleanliness. Words are rarely wasted, punctuating conversations long-held in thoughts as the trio slowly transforms from strangers into something new – something almost magical. By the time the devastating final scene comes to be, every single heartstring has been masterfully pulled.
Released 13 May by Curzon; certificate 12A