Calvary (Fox Searchlight Pictures, R)

It’s hard to find fault in and feels fresh, and makes a name for itself in what has already been a good year for movies.

Brendan Gleeson, the star of the new John Michael McDonagh film Calvary, is one of those actors who I know I like, but, if put on the spot, I often have trouble remembering what all movies he’s been in. It isn’t that he’s a character actor, exactly—his large Irish presence and mane of red hair is too strong an image to get too lost in roles—but that he’s restrained enough that, while building a solid film resume, you rarely come out of a movie exclaiming how good Gleeson was in it. (And you know who he is as well as I do, if for nothing else than his role as Mad-Eye Moody in the Harry Potter films. Or Braveheart, or Edge of Tomorrow, or John Michael’s brother Martin’s In Bruges; you’ve surely seen him in something.)

With Calvary, though, I’ll never have trouble thinking of a movie Gleeson’s been in again. It’s a role perfectly catered to his talents—he plays a strong, somewhat unorthodox, trustworthy, reliable Catholic priest—and it helps that the movie surrounding the role is equally excellent. As is the supporting cast—Gleeson’s Father James is the priest in a small Irish town, and so you get to know the townsfolk pretty well, and all are well-cast, memorable characters.

The structure of Calvary is somewhat akin to a whodunit, but it’s more of a whosabouttodoit, in that in the opening scene one of Father James’ parishioners says in confession that he’s going to kill him (Father James) in a week. Father James knows who it is that says this, but the movie doesn’t tell us, and we spend a great deal of the movie trying to figure it out. Is it the rich asshole Michael Fitzgerald (Dylan Moran)? The soon-to-die writer Gerald (M. Emmett Walsh)? The sleazy doctor Frank Harte (The Wire and Game of Thrones’ Aidan Gillen, in the film’s one weak performance)? The violent and imposing mechanic Simon (The Limits of Control and Mother of George’s Isaach De Bankolé)? The creepily amusing butcher Jack Brennan (Chris O’Dowd, in the first performance I’ve liked him in since Bridesmaids)? The gigolo Leo (Owen Sharpe)? You get the idea. Calvary is one of those films that, from moment to moment, seems to make it obvious that it has to be one specific person, only to make you change your mind in the next scene, while always maintaining its credibility.

Another thing Calvary excels at is its mixture of tones, which, in this combination, is extremely hard to do. For one thing, Calvary is capable of being an incredibly funny film—I laughed so hard at a discussion about joining the Army that I literally cried, and I don’t remember the last time I’ve done that at a movie—but it’s also a dark and foreboding one. This flip-flopping between emotional poles led the audience I screened the film with to laugh at some particularly inappropriate moments, which, in its own weird way, is further proof that the movie is working.

Beyond all of that, it nails little stabs of cultural commentary, and has endlessly quotable dialogue (“A friend is just an enemy you haven’t made yet,” “For most people faith is the fear of death, and if that’s all it is it’s easy to lose”). The bigger picture of the film exists in a grey area, too, to where you’ll enjoy it while you’re watching it, but also find yourself debating some things it was intentionally unclear on once the movie is over. In other words, go see this movie. It’s hard to find fault in and feels fresh, and makes a name for itself in what has already been a good year for movies. | Pete Timmermann