Film Festival
Cillian, Cillian! How Oscar star Murphy became the darling of the day at the Berlinale
Cilian Murphy at a press conference for his film “Small things like these”, which opens the Berlinale
© Ebrahim Noroozi / Picture Alliance
His blue eyes make us so sentimental. The 74th Berlinale opened in the evening. With many German and a few international stars. In the center is a silent Irishman as a coal dealer: Cillian Murphy.
And suddenly the whole room’s heart felt warm. A journalist from Georgia wanted to ask a question about what people do at a press conference for this year’s opening film at the Berlinale. But first she poured her heart out to the favorite of the day. She raved about the fact that even her 16-year-old daughter took the long journey just because of him. How does he succeed? to delight mothers and girls alike with his art? she finally asked. Murphy lowered his almost eerie blue eyes, put his hands to his face and gushed back: “Very sweet of you to say that. And best wishes to your daughter too.” His audience sighed, collectively moved.
Opinions can be divided about his small but fine film “Small Things Like These”, the appearance of Murphy, favorite at both the British Bafta film awards and the Oscars, gave the opening day of the 74th Berlin Film Festival the often desperately sought-after shine . He didn’t really do much talking at the podium, but his presence alone created a buzz. He has already been a guest at the festival five times, but only this time the title hero of “Oppenheimer” was greeted with chants of “Cillian, Cillian!” as he got out of his limousine.
Cilian Murphy stars in “Small Things Like These”
He is similarly silent in his Berlinale contribution. Murphy plays the hard-working coal dealer Bill, his back already slightly bent from lugging sacks and briquettes and apparently only wearing a single coarse wool sweater. We are in the middle of the 80s, the bells are constantly ringing in his small Irish town, and the influence of the Catholic Church can be felt on every corner.
He has five film daughters, this time his film wife doesn’t look like Emily Blunt, but wears flowered nightgowns, a blow-dried hairstyle and could also pass for his mother with her mixture of honest goodness and awareness of tradition. When Bill observes during a delivery how much the local nuns harass the “fallen” girls entrusted to them, his wife warns him to exercise restraint. Think about your job, think about the family – she would rather accept the Christmas hush money from the superior, brilliantly demonic as a nun from hell played by Emily Watson.
There’s one thing the film doesn’t radiate: glamour
But you can’t turn off empathy, so you can watch Bill’s conscience grow over the course of the gently told drama, inspired by the stories of Charles Dickens. Everyone has to discover for themselves whether it all ends well or in disaster. What can the film, which Murphy shot six months after “Oppenheimer” and describes as a “project of his heart” achieve? He asks a lot of questions about complicity, silence and shame, says Murphy. “But I don’t think it’s the job of art to answer these questions, but rather to provoke them in some way.”
Even though the depressing but very empathetic film doesn’t exude much glamor for an opening ceremony, it at least has another real star in tow. Matt Damon co-produced the film with his own production company. How did he come across the material? Well, Murphy asked him about it when the two were filming “Oppenheimer” together in the desert of New Mexico, Damon reports in a good mood at the press conference. In the end, no one cheered him on.