If you think the people who shot Veronica Guerin are bad,” a garda said after the heroic journalist was shot in 1996, “you should see what’s coming up now.” Evil spiralled through the decades.
Spilt Milk is set a decade before 1996. We’re in the relatively early days of Ireland’s drug ‘culture.’ (I’ve always hated that term).
It’s a sweet little offering made with great “warmth and charmth” to quote one of Sam Goldwyn’s classic malapropisms. But making a film about a victory of CPAD (Concerned Parents Against Drugs) in 2026 is a bit like shining a very small match in the Stygian darkness of Hades.
As such, it becomes a relic of a bygone era. A snapshot of a time we thought was terrible when it was happening but, looked at now, seems more like a minor infection that turned into an all-pervasive cancer.
Oisín (Lewis Brophy) is a basically decent lad who’s fallen into the heroin trap in Dublin’s inner-city flats. When he goes AWOL, his 11-year-old brother Bobby, whose favourite hobby is sleuthing a la Kojak, goes in search of him.
Secrets are being withheld from Bobby by his parents (Laurence O’Fuarain and Danielle Galligan). Where did the TV disappear to, for instance? And what stories could a cigarette lighter tell, or a sketch of a fish?
Brian Durnin directs his debut feature with delicacy, wresting strong performances from his cast (all of whom were unknown to me) but particularly, in my view, from Ms Galligan. She radiates dignity and passion in a string of small but telling touches, her inquisitive eyes peering from those trademark specs as she tries to keep some semblance of normality in a family that’s falling apart at the seams.
Cillian Sullivan is also excellent as Bobby. He’s the axis around which the film revolves. Small quibble: he tends to speak in the same excited tone throughout the film. A little diversity would have given his performance more shade. Naoise Kelly also shines as his best friend. Pom Boyd radiates maternal wisdom as Nan.
O’Fuarain is like a fugitive from Roddy Doyle’s Barrytown trilogy. The film in general has prolific examples of Doyle’s penchant for expletives. Some viewers might find these offensive. Others will see them as reflective of the society Durnin is portraying.
Spilt Milk rarely puts a foot wrong but to reiterate my earlier point, one wonders if Durnin has made it at a time when it’s likely to be seen more as a curiosity piece than something sociologically relevant.
Is there any point in closing the stable door after the horse has bolted? Is this what the ‘spilt milk’ of the title refers to? Far from reminding us how far we’ve slid down the slippery slope of drugs, instead, it shows us parents waving placards saying ‘Pushers Out.’
Sadly, anyone carrying such a placard today would probably be regarded as, at best naïve and at worst an anachronism.
