I had high hopes for Small Things Like These, especially coming to it after Oppenheimer reminded me how powerful Cillian Murphy can be with the right material. While the acting here is undeniably strong – Murphy in particular is quietly excellent – the film around him feels frustratingly slow and underpowered.
The direction leans far too heavily on long stares, routine chores, and silence, to the point where scenes begin to drag instead of building tension. For a story rooted in such a serious and painful subject, the film often feels hesitant, as if it’s circling the issue rather than confronting it head-on. Atmosphere is prioritised over momentum, and that balance never quite works.
There is a good film in here somewhere, but it never fully emerges. Given the weight of the theme and the talent involved, this ends up feeling like a missed opportunity rather than a quiet triumph.
