“HE HARDLY SPEAKS… AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHY IT CUTS SO DEEP.” A haunting new drama starring Cillian Murphy is quietly leaving audiences unsettled as it gains traction on Netflix. Set in 1985 Ireland, Small Things Like These follows a coal merchant whose ordinary life begins to fracture after he uncovers troubling secrets hidden within a local convent. There’s no explosive drama—just stillness, tension, and a slow, creeping sense of truth. And that restraint is what makes it so powerful. With a 94% Rotten Tomatoes score, viewers are calling it “extraordinary,” praising Murphy’s subtle, deeply human performance as one of his finest. Because this isn’t a story that shocks in a moment… it lingers long after the final scene fades. WATCH BELOW 👇
“HE SAYS ALMOST NOTHING… AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHY IT STAYS WITH YOU.”
There are performances that demand attention with volume, intensity, and spectacle. And then there are performances that do the exact opposite—quiet, restrained, almost invisible on the surface… yet impossible to shake once they settle in your mind. That’s exactly what Cillian Murphy delivers in Small Things Like These, a film that is quietly becoming one of the most talked-about dramas now gaining momentum on Netflix.
Set in Ireland in 1985, the film doesn’t rely on dramatic twists or explosive confrontations. Instead, it leans into something far more unsettling: stillness. Silence. The slow, creeping realization that something is deeply wrong.
And that’s exactly why it works.
A STORY THAT UNFOLDS IN WHISPERS
At the center of Small Things Like These is Bill Furlong, a coal merchant living a modest, routine life. He wakes early, works hard, provides for his family, and moves through his days with quiet discipline. On the surface, there is nothing remarkable about him—and that’s entirely the point.
Because this is not a story about extraordinary people.
It’s a story about ordinary ones… placed in extraordinary moral circumstances.
As Bill goes about his deliveries, he begins to notice things that don’t quite sit right. Small details at first. A look. A silence. A moment that lingers longer than it should. And then, gradually, those small details begin to form something heavier—something that can no longer be ignored.
Behind the walls of a local convent, something is being hidden.
And once Bill sees it… he cannot unsee it.
THE POWER OF RESTRAINT
What makes this film so effective is what it refuses to do. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t over-explain. It doesn’t force emotion through dramatic dialogue or sweeping music.
Instead, it trusts the audience.
It trusts silence.
And most importantly, it trusts Murphy.
Cillian Murphy’s performance is almost shockingly minimal. He speaks very little. His expressions are subtle, often barely shifting. But within that restraint lies an entire emotional world.
A glance becomes a question.
A pause becomes conflict.
A silence becomes a moral weight.
You’re not told what Bill is feeling—you’re invited to sit with it, to experience it as it unfolds in real time. And that experience can be deeply uncomfortable.
Because it feels real.
WHY VIEWERS ARE CALLING IT “DEVASTATING”
With a 94% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, audiences and critics alike are praising the film not for what it shows—but for what it makes you feel.
Viewers describe it as “phenomenal,” “quietly crushing,” and “one of the most powerful performances of Murphy’s career.” But those words only capture part of the experience.
What truly sets this film apart is its emotional aftershock.
This isn’t the kind of story that overwhelms you in a single moment. There’s no dramatic climax designed to release tension all at once. Instead, the film builds slowly, layering discomfort, empathy, and unease until you reach a point where the weight becomes undeniable.
And then it ends.
Not with a loud conclusion—but with a silence that feels heavier than anything that came before.
THE SETTING THAT SPEAKS WITHOUT WORDS
1985 Ireland is more than just a backdrop—it’s a presence.
The muted tones, the cold air, the quiet streets—they all contribute to the film’s atmosphere of restraint and suppression. This is a world where things are not openly discussed. Where silence is not just common—it’s expected.
And within that silence, truths can remain hidden.
The convent itself becomes a symbol of that hidden reality. It stands firm, respected, unquestioned. But behind its walls lies something far more complicated, something that challenges not only Bill’s understanding of his world—but his place within it.
A MORAL DILEMMA THAT FEELS PERSONAL
At its core, Small Things Like These is not just about uncovering a secret.
It’s about what happens after.
What do you do when you see something you weren’t meant to see?
What responsibility do you carry once you know the truth?
And how much are you willing to risk to act on it?
These questions don’t come with easy answers. And the film doesn’t pretend they do.
Instead, it places you inside Bill’s perspective—forcing you to sit with his uncertainty, his fear, and his growing sense that doing nothing may be just as significant as doing something.
It’s not just his dilemma.
It becomes yours.
WHY THIS PERFORMANCE STANDS OUT
Cillian Murphy has built a career on complex, layered roles. From intense, commanding characters to deeply internal ones, he has consistently demonstrated a rare ability to communicate emotion without excess.
But this performance feels different.
There’s a vulnerability here that is almost disarming. A quiet humanity that doesn’t rely on dramatic gestures or powerful speeches. It’s all in the small things—the way he looks, the way he hesitates, the way he carries the weight of what he knows.
And in many ways, that restraint makes the impact even stronger.
Because it feels real.
WHEN LESS BECOMES MORE
In a cinematic landscape often dominated by high stakes, fast pacing, and constant noise, Small Things Like These stands apart by doing less.
Less dialogue.
Less action.
Less explanation.
And in that “less,” it finds something rare: authenticity.
It allows moments to breathe. It allows silence to exist. And it allows the audience to engage not just with the story—but with themselves.
Because when the film slows down… you start to think.
And once you start thinking, it becomes very difficult to stop.
THE KIND OF FILM THAT LINGERS
Some films entertain you for a couple of hours and then fade.
This isn’t one of them.
This is the kind of film that stays with you. That quietly returns hours later, then days later, then unexpectedly in moments when you’re not even thinking about it.
A look.
A scene.
A decision left unresolved.
It doesn’t demand attention—it earns it.
And that’s why it’s resonating so deeply with audiences.
FINAL THOUGHT
“HE SAYS ALMOST NOTHING… AND THAT’S WHY IT HITS SO HARD.”
That line perfectly captures what makes Small Things Like These so powerful. It’s not about what is spoken—it’s about what is felt.
It’s about the quiet realization that sometimes the most important stories are not the loudest ones.
They’re the ones that unfold slowly.
The ones that make you uncomfortable.
The ones that force you to look closer.
And the ones that stay with you… long after the screen goes dark.