James McArdle stars as Edward, an openly gay Irish novelist who has just penned a book that is reaching an American audience. Thrilled by the reviews, Edward is nonetheless daunted by the prospect of a fortnight promotional tour, particularly as it means leaving his elderly mother (a virtually mute Fionnula Flanagan) on her own. His dilemma worsens when three of his mates abandon their bereaved matriarchs for a sun-and-sex holiday, putting Edward in the difficult situation of caring for a quartet of octogenarians.
Four Mothers is, in effect, a remake of Italian drama Mid-August Lunch (Gianni Di Gregorio, 2008), and although Darren Thornton cannily updates the plot to reflect an Ireland that voted for gay marriage, he never quite gets his footing on the characters in much the same way as Di Gregorio did. Worse than that, Thornton’s view of homosexuality is deeply one-note, as the three men leaving for a Pride parade abroad regaler themselves in sex toys, skimpy outfits and general innuendo. The most offensive depiction is that of a hand-flapping 50-something-year-old, who seemingly fooled himself as a younger person that he was straight, despite all the signs to the contrary.
Conversely, the depiction of old age is adept and occasionally lyrical, demonstrating four lonely women looking for entertainment through karaoke, séance and a good aul Catholic funeral. Desperate to speak to their deceased husbands, the old widows contact a tarot card reader in the hope of seeking absolution. What they get is a bunch of badly worded gobble-dee-gook that barely amounts to anything more than a passing platitude. Flanagan has to deliver the emotion through her eyes, and she conveys angst, anxiety and overwhelming pride for her son; often in the space of a scene.
One of the other parents tries to reconcile her son’s sexuality with her faith, but Thornton never fully develops the plot point. There are some prayers, some incantations, but it’s hard to say how the director feels about the importance of gay marriage in a island that still holds a strong attachment to the church. McArdle’s Edward gets one monologue to explore the damage his youthful experiences as a closeted gay child held on him, but it scarcely comes up again, as the movie focuses more on the panic attacks Edward endures preparing for his book appearances. Abandoning a universal plot line for a more individualistic one, Four Mothers loses some of the raw pathos in the process.
As a comedy, this picture has merit, as a setpiece involving an air-rifle and pigeons is one of the more inspired in recent times. McArdle also gets to showcase his slapstick chops in a blinding moment that involves a muffled scream in a pillow. Edward, soon to go online to speak with his publicist, has to drive his mother and chums on a six-hour drive to Galway in the hope of meeting a fortune teller. Rather than overplay the farce a la Robin Williams in The Fisher King (Terry Gilliam, 1991), McArdle wisely hits a central point that gets the laugh as opposed to overselling it.
But Flanagan is the real scene-stealer here. She never strays from her character’s internal grief – it is established that this mother suffered a stroke not too long after her husband’s death – but allows herself some facial movements that allows the performance to breeze into the giddy undertones. Flanagan’s mother lets out a cheeky grin when she recalls the moment she traced her teenage sons phone in Sweden. Like all mothers, she didn’t fall for his fables and lies; like all loving parents, she knew about his sexuality before Edward did.
Four Mothers is in cinemas on Friday, April 4th.
