previously published on Cineuropa
An old proverb teaches us that there is no use crying over spilt milk, but what happens when milk is not milk, but rather somebody’s own flesh and blood? Parents do not give up on their sons, no matter how “prodigal” they might be, and siblings do not abandon one another in decent families. With his debut feature, Brian Durnin takes us to 1984 Dublin to tell the story of a boy who fancies himself as a detective, his large and noisy family, his faithful friend and the quest he embarks on. Spilt Milk has just premiered in the International Youth Competition programme at the Just Film Festival, which unspools alongside Tallinn Black Nights.
The boy-detective in question is Bobby O’Brien (newcomer Cillian Sullivan), who is obsessed with the Kojak series, and considers its titular protagonist his idol and role model. He wants to become a detective and meets all of the requirements to be one, such as possessing an eye for detail, the power of deduction and the will to never give up. He even has a start-up idea for an agency of sorts, but he is not being taken seriously by his schoolmates or at home, and therefore, he can only rely on his best friend, Nell (Naoise Kelly, also a newcomer), who is willing to follow him on his adventures, even if it means she will get into trouble.
At home, the situation is somewhat dire, since there is constant quarrelling between the wise Nan (Pom Boyd), hardworking father John (Laurence O’Fuarain), brave mother Maura (Danielle Galligan) and Bobby’s older brother Oisin (Lewis Brophy). The times are uncertain, the economic crisis cannot be denied, and it seems that Oisin’s inability to find a job is something his father cannot tolerate any more, but his punkish attitude could also be covering up for something. When Oisin suddenly disappears, Bobby gets his first “case”: to find him, no matter what. One clue leads to another, and everything points in the direction of dreaded gangster Jim Kane, but the truth is actually closer to home: it involves Oisin’s buddies Paddy, Tommy and Decco, and the drug-use epidemic plaguing the town.
Spilt Milk starts in one genre key and one emotional register – as a warm, quirky comedy about an imaginative kid who plays detective games in real life – only to slowly morph into something much darker and more dramatic. Sometimes, it is a bumpy ride, especially when the child actors have to nail the stronger emotions for the first time, exposing the inexperience on their side and on the side of the helmer by extension, but in the end, it pays off. The more experienced, older actors give grounded performances, and the kids shine when they are left to play kids and act accordingly. There is also a sense of nostalgic warmth in the film that can be observed in Cathal Watters’ cinematography, bathed in warm colours with occasional lens flares, and in the music that mixes the synth-heavy detective-flick cues of the original score with different flavours of rock, punk and new wave present on the ambient side.
However, the transition to darker material and the bravery to do so in an unapologetic manner, on the part of both Durnin and scriptwriter Cara Loftus, are what makes Spilt Milk stand out among the myriad safe, heart-warming films for children and youth audiences, where there is a lot of talk about certain things, usually along didactic lines, but where the real ugliness and pain are never shown. Here, it seems genuine and heart-felt.