There are a lot of Irish films out there and there are a lot of “Irish” films out there. People have a romantic and contrived idea of what Ireland should look like on film and how the people should act. Maybe it dates back to John Ford’s The Quiet Man, or maybe it’s more recent romances like Wild Mountain Thyme that have created a caricature of Ireland for the benefit of everyone except Irish people. Authenticity has been a dubious topic when it comes to Irish cinema, but there is no questioning it when comes to An Cailín Ciúin (The Quiet Girl). Director Colm Bairéad does not try to romanticize the setting or characters or present it all in a neat, packaged format so that international audiences will book their next holiday there. It’s, first and foremost, a faithful adaptation of the novella Foster by Claire Keegan. There aren’t any dramatic turns or twists. There is no clear hero or villain. It is a story of family, both biological and found, and the difficult confrontation one must make when they choose one over the other.

Cáit (Catherine Clinch) is the middle child of five and growing. Her mother is pregnant again whilst nursing a toddler and raising four other children. Cáit is reserved and tries to stay out of trouble, but trouble always finds her as she wets the bed, is bullied at school, and is neglected by her father (she isn’t the only one). To relieve the family of cost and attention, she is sent to live with her mother’s cousin and her husband for a summer. If this was a Roald Dahl story, you would expect either a hairy, disgusting couple who want to fatten her up to eat or an angelic, mother figure who bakes fresh cookies every day. But this is not a Roald Dahl story. This is one of the most authentic, naturalistic, and beautiful Irish films ever made.

Cáit arrives at Eibhlin (Carrie Crowley) and Seán (Andrew Bennett) Kinsella’s house, oblivious to the life and home that awaits her for the next few months. It may seem modest to some, but in comparison to Cáit’s family home, it’s a castle. Eibhlín is not cold nor is she overbearing. One of the most important and noticeable aspects of the film is that there are no caricatures of characters. Eibhlin is both thoughtful and rational. She doesn’t cradle Cáit when she wets the bed, but she declares that the mattress has been weeping again, and takes the sheets to be washed while barely looking at Cáit. Seán also barely looks at Cáit, but not in the same way. He keeps her at arm’s length, but Bennett ensures that we know it’s not because he wants to, but because he feels he needs to. Something is haunting the home, but it still feels like an oasis for Cáit.

Image Via Break Out Pictures

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Touchstones of Irish culture are sprinkled throughout the film but never in a way that stereotypes it. Cáit’s family is so poor because they have so many children – a byproduct of contraception being so inaccessible at that time. The KInsellas aren’t seen going to Mass unless it’s for a funeral, but the familiar portrait of Jesus Christ hangs in the kitchen, like almost every Catholic kitchen in the country. A nosey neighbor offers to take Cáit for an evening but only to gossip about her new parental figures and try to get information from Cáit about how the Kinsellas live and Eibhlin’s cooking secrets. Bairéad discusses making these trademarks more subtle in an interview with Collider, saying “I think the presence of that stuff is still to be felt there for those who have this kind of understanding and the kind of sensitivity for that detail.” Yet, the film isn’t totally inaccessible to those who may not be familiar with Ireland, particularly around that time. There is a universal element that can be felt. Themes of family, loss, and love are all explored, just not in a way we’re used to seeing in narrative feature films. The bigger truths lie in these small exchanges between characters. You may have to look more closely for them, but when you find them, they are powerfully impactful – mainly due to the gentle but firm grip of Bairéad’s direction.

Catherine Clinch—even though she has very limited dialogue—headlines this film with such mindfulness and nuance, it’s utterly mindboggling to believe it’s her first acting job. She never lets Cáit slip away from her. Even though Cáit is so quiet, she is a deeply feeling child. Clinch breathes so much life not just into her character but into the entire film. We learn to understand how Cáit is feeling and what she is thinking by the way her mouth moves or where her eye line is. Carrie Crowley is the beating heart of the film. You know she always wants to say more than she does, she wants to express more love than she feels she can. As I said, there’s a ghost that permeates through the home and the film, and it’s clear that it still consumes Eibhlin. In one of the most understated performances of the year, Andrew Bennett plays the distant but ultimately doting and loving father to such a perfect note. Watching Seán and Cáit’s relationship blossom from non-existent to playful joy on the farm, to pure love and protection is one of the film’s best elements. An olive branch is replaced by the Kimberley biscuit, a ginger-flavored treat that has been a staple in Irish houses for decades. This was the point I started crying uncontrollably.

Image Via Break Out Pictures

There is power in the everyday moments, and that is what An Cailín Ciúin, its director, and its cast inherently understand. Bairéad noted Lenny Abrahamson as one of his filmmaking inspirations to Collider, and it absolutely shows. If you enjoyed the subtlety, intimacy and pace of Normal People or Room or his criminally underseen earlier film, Grarage, you will appreciate everything about An Cailín Ciúin. Bairéad allows us into the most intimate moments of a home and family. We watch Eibhlin bathe Cáit, we watch a couple reckon with trauma and loss, and we see a once-broken home repair itself, slowly but surely. At times, you really do feel like you’ve been placed right in the Kinsella’s home, and the characters are just as palpable.

It’s refreshing to see a film that is tackling some of the most intimate and personal issues that humans face without feeling the need to make them grandiose to suit the cinematic format. The 90 minutes of the film fly by, and although there is no big revelation (except for one that happens in the middle of the film, but even that is not so dramatic), you feel that you’ve learned so much about these characters without it being spoon-fed to you.

An Cailín Ciúin is one of the most masterful meditations on childhood, family, and love. The final scene is somehow so hopeful yet so devastating. Without any spoilers, and I know this sounds cliché, but we realize that it’s not about where Cáit ends up, because we know she has found everything she has ever wanted throughout the journey, and because of that, she will always be OK. Don’t be surprised if after you’ve wiped away your tears and finished the film, you feel compelled to ring up those who raised you or made a positive impact on you as a child and thank them.

Rating: A

The Quiet Girl is now playing in theaters.