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Jim Sheridan’s latest feature film, The Secret Scripture, had a lot going for it. Between a star-studded cast (the elegant Rooney Mara and homegrown talent Jack Reynor in the leading roles) and a screenplay adapted from the critically acclaimed novel by Sebastian Barry, Sheridan’s first film since Dream House (2011) was destined for success. Unfortunately, these elements didn’t compliment each other. The end result is a forgettable historical drama that one might watch on RTE Two on an uneventful, rainy Thursday night.
The narrative follows a young woman, Rose, during the second World War. She is forced to evacuate from Belfast to her hometown Ballyturkin in Sligo, seeking refuge in her aunt’s house. Inevitably, she falls for the local shopkeeper, Michael McNulty (played by Reynor, who perfects the Sligo accent without parodying it). At the same time, a young priest (Theo James) takes notice of Rose and despite his vows, relentlessly pursues her and tries to thwart any possible romantic relationships with the men in the village.
The film begins with Rose as an eighty-year-old woman (the indomitable Vanessa Redgrave). She has been living in a mental institution for the past forty years, and is now riddled by illness and loneliness. Eric Bana plays her psychiatrist, who is invited to explore Rose’s past through her writings contained in an old, battered copy of the Bible. In a somewhat cliched fashion, The Secret Scripture bounces back and forth between Rose’s conversations with her psychiatrist as an elderly woman, and Rose as a young lady in Sligo in the 1940’s.
The first hour runs without a glitch; the music swells against the backdrop of the rugged Irish shoreline and the small village life of Ballyturkin. The character of Rose is an anomaly in this setting; her beauty and fiery temper is often greeted with great unease by the locals. In this way, Sheridan succeeds in rendering a realistic portrayal of life in rural Ireland during the War. Gender roles are still rigidly structured and the Catholic Church reign supreme. It’s a deft picture of a past that we are still trying to rid ourselves of today.
The details of the whirlwind romance that eventually leads to Rose’s detainment in a Magdalene laundry are predictable and painfully laborious to watch. While the Magdalene laundries are a heated topic at the moment, Sheridan’s project only offers us glimpses of a world that still feels largely unexplored by filmmakers. The relationship between Michael and Rose is wooden and lacklustre. In the forty minutes that they are on screen together, there is sparse material for the audience to sink their teeth into.
Unfamiliar with the source material as I am, I can only comment on how ludicrous and soap opera-ish the conclusion of The Secret Scripture felt. Without giving too much away, the final scenes feel as glossy as a Nicholas Sparks’ film adaptation. Despite the hardships that Rose has been through in her lifetime, the film’s ending feels wildly out of proportion and overzealous. Sheridan, it would seem, has abandoned his graceful approach to the climax and conclusion.
The Secret Scripture should have been a profound and influential film that examined the relationship between Irish women, the Church and their repressed sexuality. Instead, it disappoints, offering little in terms of originality and innovation.
