The Quiet Girl has a loud and clear message

Maybe you were a lonely, quiet, misunderstood child. Or perhaps you knew one during your formative years. If so, The Quiet Girl (An Cailín Ciúin) is a film that will speak to you in profound ways. This critically acclaimed 2022 Irish coming-of-age drama (the first and still the only Irish motion picture to earn an Academy Award for Best International Feature Film), directed by Colm Bairéad and set in rural Ireland in the early 1980s, tells the story of Cáit (Catherine Clinch), a withdrawn, neglected nine-year-old from an impoverished family who is sent to spend the summer with distant relatives. Under the care of Eibhlín Kinsella (Carrie Crowley) and her initially gruff husband Seán (Andrew Bennett), Cáit experiences warmth and affection for the first time, allowing her to blossom until a poignant truth from their past emerges.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of The Quiet Girl, conducted earlier this month, click here.

This is a picture that defies expectations, unfolding in ways that we may not anticipate. For example, Cait is visited in the middle of the night by one of her two house hosts; we aren’t shown who it is; we’re concerned that it’s Sean, possibly seeking to molest her. But in a clever bit of misdirection, it’s suddenly revealed that the figure is Eibhlín. Recall the scene where Cait walks with Una to her home following the wake; we notice Una’s children off in a corner observing the young girl, and we fear that they may tease or bully Cait, yet that doesn’t happen. When Cait wanders off, and Eibhlín fears that she’s in trouble, Cait emerges in drenched clothes, apparently having fallen into the well (like her son), but survived; we are never shown Cait struggling in the water. In fact, we never see Cait actually come to harm, be hit or assaulted, or punished in any way. And consider how much emphasis is placed, early on, on Cait’s growing relationship with Eibhlín and not with Sean; yet she ultimately develops the strongest bond with him, which many viewers may not see coming.

The brilliance of The Quiet Girl is that it’s shown from the vantage point and perspective of a young child. The POV is almost exclusively Cait’s, and we aren’t privy to any information that she is not. She serves as the audience surrogate, and we discover the world around her through her eyes. The way this is visualized, with dazzling shots of Cait’s surrounding environment – the trees that flash by outside her car window, the still life shots of things like her dad’s cigarette butts, and the shimmering reflective surface of the well water – is exemplary. Narrative- and character-wise, we are also just as much in the dark as she is regarding why the adults do what they do (the reason why her parents want her, and not any of her siblings, to stay the summer with relatives is never explained). The Quiet Girl stays remarkably consistent and accurate in presenting the worldview of a child who’s just beginning to piece together the puzzle that is life in a realm run by grownups.

This work is all the more admirable because it looks and sounds authentic, the latter part largely thanks to the decision to use the native Irish language (Gaeilge) instead of English (although some English is heard). Interestingly, it’s also a period piece, set over 40 years ago, which was the time setting of the original 2010 short story “Foster” by Claire Keegan.

Small details and relatively minor moments in the scheme of the plot loom large here. “The film isn’t about the big reveal. It’s the little things. A cookie placed on a table—without a word—brings an explosion of feeling and meaning. A cookie is not just a cookie. A serious chat by the sea on a moonlit night is profound and potentially life-altering…The film unfolds like a reverie. Light and shadow, bird sounds, fresh vegetables, the mirror-like water of the well … McCullough and Bairéad patiently explore the environment, allowing it space to evoke, forcing us into Cáit's point of view,” wrote reviewer Sheila O’Malley. “There is a monotony to some of the presentation—the repeated shots of the kitchen, the walk to the well, the daily chores, and Cáit’s wariness slowly melting into trust. The monotony is there for a reason and does serve a purpose, but a little goes a long way.”

One of the primary lessons imparted? Stay true to yourself and your nature. Cait’s family regards her silence and soft, unobtrusive demeanor as a weakness or defect. But when Cait hears Sean say, “Many's the person missed the opportunity to say nothing, and lost much because of it,” it’s an affirmation that this reserved side of her personality can actually be a strength that helps her avoid causing harm or betraying trust by using the wrong words. “When Cáit returns home, it is her failure to obey this golden rule, and blurting out the phrase ‘nothing happened,’ which is to cause a new stab of pain,” per Guardian film critic Peter Bradshaw.

The Quiet Girl also espouses the incomparable value of connection. Cait is ignored and neglected by her biological family, shunned by siblings and classmates, and completely isolated emotionally and physically from other human beings. She’s lived so long without affection, kindness, nurturing, and attention that she probably isn’t fully aware of what she’s missing, which could help explain why we don’t see her cry or break down. But by the conclusion, when she runs to Sean and is heartily embraced by this compassionate father figure, we quickly discern that she now knows what genuine connection feels like and its importance.

This is also a rumination on coping with grief. Eibhlín and Sean are childless parents whose son drowned years earlier. We see how they have been emotionally affected by this traumatic loss and how, particularly, Eibhlín is eager to show parental kindness toward Cait; Sean is distant and non-emotive at first, likely as a defense mechanism to prevent reopening old wounds, but he warms up to the girl over time. The slow thawing of his heart is part of the miracle of this movie.

A further thematic exploration concerns truth vs. secrets. Eibhlín tells Cait, “If there are secrets in a house, there is shame in that house.” She encourages the girl to be open and honest about anything bothering her, yet she withholds a major secret of her own: the death of her young son. After Cait learns of this withheld fact, she likely learns a valuable truth: adults can act hypocritically and bear plenty of secrets.

Similar works

• The Secret of Roan Inish (1994)
• The Kid with a Bike (2011)
• Summer 1993 (2017)
• Minari (2020)
• Petite Maman (2021)
• Playground (Un monde) (2021)
• Close (2022)

Other films by Colm Bairéad (all documentaries and TV films)

• Lorg na gCos: Súil Siar ar Mise Éire (In the Footprints: Looking Back at 'I Am Ireland') (2012)
• Frank O'Connor: Idir Dhá Shruth (2016)
• Murdair Mhám Trasna (The Maamtrasna Murders) (2018)