Brooklyn
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In a political season now dominated by shameful anti-immigrant rhetoric, Brooklyn — John Crowley’s film version of the Colm Tóibín novel, nimbly adapted by Nick Hornby — is the big-hearted bear hug of a movie that a lot of folks could use.
It’s anchored by Saoirse Ronan’s luminous performance as Eilis, an Irish immigrant whose rough passage to 1950s Brooklyn is salved by a sweetly persistent Italian-American plumber (Emory Cohen). The crisis that lures her home isn’t overstated, and neither is the triangle that simmers with a local (Domhnall Gleeson). Crowley saves the melodrama for an admittedly satisfying showdown with a gossipy harridan (Brid Brennan), preferring the tension generated by watching fundamentally decent people caught between their own desires and the obligations of family and community.
That may sound slight, but Brooklyn offers up nothing short of the promise and heartbreak of America. It’s right there on Ronan’s open face, and if you make it through her parting gesture to another homesick newcomer without wiping your eyes on your armrest, you’re made of sterner stuff than I.
