Although director Thaddeus O’Sullivan’s gentle little dramedy has its moments, the best efforts of a powerhouse cast can’t quite overcome the issues left unresolved in the original story by Joshua D. Maurer, Timothy Prager and Jimmy Smallhorne.
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| Lily (Maggie Smith, right), Eileen (Kathy Bates, center) and Dolly (Agnes O'Casey) — with her young son, Daniel (Eric D. Smith) — are delighted to learn that they've won a trip to Lourdes, in France. |
Work is hard, money is scarce, family responsibilities — even under the most loving circumstances — leave no time for anything else.
Travel? A vacation? Idle fantasy.
Of late, though, the daily struggle has been augmented by fresh worries for a couple of close friends. Eileen (Kathy Bates) is terrified that a lump on her breast might be cancer. Lily (Maggie Smith) is succumbing to the crushing guilt that has plagued her for years (the details of which emerge slowly). Both mourn the recent death of another friend, Maureen.
Dolly (Agnes O’Casey), a generation younger — and the sole Ballygar resident determined to bring a bit of London mod to the community — despairs over her silent young son, Daniel (Eric D. Smith, wide-eyed and adorable). She fears that the boy’s muteness, or unwillingness to talk, is somehow her fault.
All three women — Eileen, Lily and Dolly — dream of making a pilgrimage to Lourdes, where millions travel each year, to bathe in the sacred waters and receive God’s grace. And, perhaps, a miracle.
Thanks to some clever maneuvering by the kindly parish priest, Father Byrne (Mark O’Halloran, note-perfect), a small miracle does occur … and, suddenly, all three get their wish: an all-expenses-paid trip to Lourdes.
This includes something else they never expected: a brief bit of freedom. And independence.
Alas, the jubilant mood is dampened — for Eileen and Lily — by the unexpected appearance of Maureen’s daughter, Chrissie (Laura Linney), who fled to America 40 years ago, beset by scandal (the usual kind, given the time period). Dolly is too young to have any emotional response to Chrissie’s arrival, but it opens old wounds and long-unspoken betrayals involving Eileen and Lily.
Worse yet, Chrissie insists on joining the trip to Lourdes.
The subsequent leave-taking has additional implications, played for mild comic relief: Eileen’s husband Frank (Stephen Rea), and Dolly’s husband George (Mark McKenna), are apoplectic at the mere thought of being left in charge of their respective families. Frank’s protests are hilarious; Rea, wide-eyed, practically stutters with disbelief.
Eileen’s firm response is just as amusing, and let’s acknowledge the obvious: Few actresses can match Bates, when it comes to being an unyielding, immovable object.
Secrets will be revealed, when Eileen, Lily and Chrissie are thrown together during the next several days. The latter’s departure from Ballygar, so long ago, proves more complicated than we initially assume.
Smith’s work here is as far removed from her Downton Abbey reign as could be imagined. Lily, worn down by long-held guilt and despair, almost doesn’t register as a whole person; she’s a flickering candle in serious danger of snuffing out (which her kind husband, well played by Niall Buggy, is at a loss to prevent). Smith’s expression is wan, her gaze laced with sorrow, her posture slumped.
Eileen over-reacts in the other direction: She’s loud, judgmental, dismissive and constantly angry. But Bates also conveys an additional important quality; this is surface bluster, a coping mechanism intended to cover long-buried guilt and complicity. And, with Chrissie’s return, it ceases to work.
Linney makes Chrissie a quiet study: clearly uncomfortable amid this company, but apparently determined to see it through (whatever “it” turns out to be). Her posture is wary and guarded; her eyes reveal flickers of pain at some of Eileen’s ruder comments. Worse yet, Chrissie and Lily wind up sharing a room — and a bed! — at Lourdes, which hits 11 on the 10-point scale of mutual discomfort.
However — and this is where the script lets this film down — we never learn anything about Chrissie’s life in the States. Does she have a husband? A family? Is she a doctor? (Subtle comments suggest that she might be.) This back-story tabula rasa is initially puzzling, and ultimately annoying. Who is Chrissie, when she’s at home with herself?
Dolly is oblivious to most of this, her attention focused almost exclusively on her son, and the hope that bathing in Lourdes’ waters will prompt him to speak. As befits a member of the next generation — and in striking contrast to Eileen and Lily — O’Casey makes Dolly more emotionally open, her heart clearly worn on one sleeve. She’s also more flamboyant, and cute as a bug in costume designer Judith Williams’ colorful outfits.
Back at home, George utterly fails at dealing with an infant in diapers, while Frank is equally clueless when it comes to preparing a meal for his large brood. Rea’s awkward dignity, when Frank attempts a home-made stew — his children want him to succeed — is priceless.
O’Sullivan and his writers walk a fine line, when it comes to the atmosphere at Lourdes, and the behavior of its many pilgrims. The reverence and hopeful faith are treated with respect, but pragmatism and disappointment are equally visible. Father Byrne has the film’s best line, delivered with superbly nuanced kindness by O’Halloran: “[Visitors] come for the strength, when there is no miracle.”
O’Sullivan and his crew excel at time, place and the story’s thoroughly Irish atmosphere; the core plot also resolves, at least to a degree. But other things are left vague. What will Chrissie do now? Have George and Frank learned to better appreciate their wives? What is young Daniel's situation? The script feels incomplete and unfinished; at just 91 minutes, this is a rare film that is too short.
Sadly, stellar cast notwithstanding, I’ll be very surprised if The Miracle Club makes more than a faint ripple in this summer’s cinematic pond.
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