Small Things Like These

In the crisp winter of 1985, a modest Irish town drifts toward Christmas, its streets lit by low‑hanging lanterns and the soft murmur of festive preparations. At the heart of this close‑knit community is a coal merchant who hauls the town’s firewood through snow‑slick lanes, his daily rhythm a quiet backbone to the season’s warmth. Bill Furlong is a man of steady hands and a reputation for fairness, juggling the challenges of providing for a bustling household of five daughters and a wife who holds his world together.

The town’s cobblestone alleys and the hum of the local pub paint a picture of ordinary life, yet beneath the convivial surface lies a lingering hush about certain institutions. Bill’s own history, marked by a childhood spent under the watchful eye of a solitary mother and the demanding presence of a landowner, colors his perception of duty and compassion. These memories linger like the ash in his hearth, reminding him that every family carries secrets that the wider community prefers to ignore.

One chilly morning, while delivering coal to the town’s convent, Bill encounters a scene that unsettles the familiar cadence of his work. The convent, cloaked in stone and reverence, is overseen by the austere Sister Mary, whose calm authority hints at a deeper, unspoken power within the village. The discovery inside the coal shed raises questions that clash with the town’s tradition of quiet acquiescence, and the festive season’s glow feels suddenly dimmer against the weight of what has been revealed.

As the holidays approach, Bill finds himself at a crossroads, balancing the responsibilities of a father and husband with a growing awareness of the larger moral landscape around him. The film’s tone weaves together the gentle melancholy of an Irish winter, the subtle tension of unspoken histories, and the flickering hope that compassion can illuminate even the darkest corners of a community.

Last Updated: August 09, 2025 at 19:25