Can it really be nine years since Darren Thornton’s A Date for Mad Mary premiered to deserved raves? Near enough. There seemed little remarkable in that film’s scenario – a young woman reconnects with old sparring partners after a spell in prison – but, boosted by an electrifying performance from Seána Kerslake, the careering dramedy looked to open doors for all involved.
The director, again sharing screenwriting duties with his brother Colin, belatedly follows up with a warm film that only a congenital malcontent could dislike. Four Mothers does not have the jagged vigour of its predecessor. Detailing the plight of a gay man saddled with four Dublin matriarchs, it falls back on a few too many comfy cliches of geriatric comedy. One can easily imagine it being reimagined as the sort of musical that would play well in the Gaiety Theatre. Nothing wrong with that, you may say. It takes talent to make friends of the audience.
The Scottish actor James McArdle plays Edward, a mild-mannered writer worried about accommodating the care of his aged mother with promotional duties on a new novel. Fionnula Flanagan, casually confirming legendary status, excels as Alma, who, following a stroke, can communicate only via a voice-generation programme on her tablet. The determination with which Flanagan hammers the keyboard while creasing her brow is every bit as daunting as any raised voice. There are obvious tensions here but, before the crisis comes, we get touching evidence of closeness as Edward assists Alma in putting herself together for the coming day.
Adapted from Gianni Di Gregorio’s 2008 film Mid-August Lunch, Four Mothers attains that calamity when three of the protagonists’ pals saddle him with their mothers as they head off for Maspalomas Pride on Gran Canaria. This is a bit of a risk for the flick. One theme here is balancing self-care with familial responsibilities, but there is a yawning gap between Edward’s noble sacrifice and his mates’ cavalier disregard. Perhaps that is the point. The film is a journey to a middle point between these comic extremes.
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At any rate, the experienced cast sell each of their characters with gusto. The astringent Dearbhla Molloy, reserved Stella McCusker and free-thinking Paddy Glynn have fun as the mothers. Gearóid Farrelly, Gordon Hickey and Rory O’Neill – the sometime Panti Bliss plays the protagonist’s amusingly infuriated analyst – allow the partying pals just enough jackeen charm to compensate for their emotional carelessness.
Four Mothers doesn’t spend much time teasing out social shifts but, familiar as we are with the mammy trope in Irish entertainment, it is impossible not to warm to the only briefly (and regretfully) qualified acceptance these matriarchs have for their sons’ sexuality. Any such film made 30 years ago could not have got away with such a casual approach to that issue. The plausible absence speaks of progress.
For all its easy likeability, Four Mothers, shot in unthreatening watercolours by Tom Comerford, does struggle to find things to do with its caravan of oddballs. Eventually, the film-makers fall back on an inevitable road trip across a country small enough to allow such a journey to be mere diversion. In Galway they meet the always reliable Niamh Cusack as a TikTok medium (a social medium, perhaps?) who may or may not have genuine connection to the dead zone.
“Reliable” is, indeed, a word that keeps coming into one’s head here. Four Mothers offers comfort for the last chilly days of spring. It shows professionals of several generations to advantage. There are no moral missteps or properly ugly confrontations. That may be enough to be going on with.
In cinemas from Friday, April 4th
