Before Calvary began someone in the (unfortunately small) audience remarked that this is ‘the perfect film to see on Easter Monday.’ It’s a nice way to think about it but this would be an excellent film to see at any time. This is the second directorial outing by John Michael McDonagh (after 2011’s brilliant The Guard) and if he maintains this quality then he’ll rapidly become one of my favourite filmmakers. Calvary is a story that contemplates issues of blame, punishment, revenge, reconciliation and, of course, faith, and packages them all in a bloody good story.

Much of the contemplating is done by Brendan Gleeson, playing Father James Lavelle, who easily marshals enough gravitas and nuance to deal with the issues in a believable manner. Further, he continues to be an eminently watchable actor (as he was in The Guard and In Bruges), and the frequent poignant close-ups of his face never fail to emote. McDonaugh clearly trusts Gleeson to convey much of the emotional content of the film with a raise of his eyebrow, pensive stroke of his beard, or stare into the middle-distance. And rightly so, because you’d be wrong to think that this is an overwrought or unsubtle piece; the emotion and contemplation is beautifully judged, only adding to the engaging story.

Father Lavelle is an experienced priest in rural County Sligo, living in a community that is clearly losing (or, to a large extent, has lost) its faith. At the outset he receives a death threat motivated by the childhood abuse of the would-be murderer, which is horrendously recounted in a quasi-confession. He is given a week to put his affairs in order, after which he will be subjected to the revenge due to the institution that he represents. What unfolds after this gripping opening is a week in his life that is, in many respects, unextraordinary. He puts his affairs in order but does so, largely, by going about his usual routine and remaining calm in the face of the increasing hostility that his parishioners directs towards him. Thus it is that we watch an innocent and decent man being attacked for crimes that he did not commit. It’s a moving portrayal but it’s also not that simple, in the sense that he is a flawed man, and that the community have their reasons for seeking a scapegoat.

More than a complex portrayal of a man preparing for his death, this is also a film filled with warmth, love and, very often, humour. It’s funny in the same low key but occasionally outlandish fashion as The Guard. Much of the humour relies on the characters in the local community who are, without exception, played superbly by the supporting cast (only Kelly Reilly, otherwise excellent as Father Lavelle’s daughter, is landed with an occasional line that’s too clunky to pull off convincingly). Special mention, I think, is earned by Dylan Moran, who’s grating performance as a modern-day local notable (filthy rich off the back of the unsustainable banking boom) is almost unbearable. Initially I thought it was over-the-top but it turns out to be just right; we’re supposed to hate this man so that, when the time comes, our final understanding of him has more meaning. He also acts as an important reflection of Gleeson’s character, reminding the audience how easy it is to hate people for the things they represent without taking that extra step to understand them as individuals.

Crucially, there’s no attempt to apologise for the wrongs that have been done, be they by the Church or the banks, or even to present Father Lavelle as flawless or without blame. What he is to be blamed for, however, is a wrong that I suspect most of us commit; being moved to a greater extent by nearby events than by more horrific events that aren’t immediately visible. So, even whilst he remains a potent metaphor for Jesus, bearing the punishment for others’ sins, he is also flawed and ultimately human. Don’t worry though, despite the religious context and theme, the issues at stake are accessibly rendered. They are issues of human existence and, even as a sceptical agnostic, I found them deeply moving.

Calvary made me both laugh and cry, which I take as a sign of a fine film. Gleeson is excellent, as is the supporting cast, the story is simple but engaging, and the issues are contemplated with intelligence and a healthy dash of humour. This is a thoroughly entertaining and highly recommended film.

The impression that a film makes is, of course, in large part to do with the state of mind, previous experiences, and interpretations of the viewer. I suspect, however, that this is more the case with films that attempt to deal explicitly with issues of identity and the meaning of existence. This certainly appears to be part of the purpose of Richard Ayoade’s The Double but, unfortunately, the heavy-handed approach makes it a somewhat unsatisfying experience. As with Ayoade’s debut, Submarine, this film centres on a quiet young man with complicated family relationships and an infatuation with a bright woman who adds some excitement to his life.

Here we have the story of a competent and decent but chronically under-confident fellow by the name of Simon James (Jesse Eisenberg). He meanders through a dystopian life of journeys on almost-empty metro trains, numerous hours of number crunching in his tiny office booth, and occasional visits to the care home where his unloving mother resides. His world is heavily redolent of those conjured by Terry Gilliam in Brazil and David Lynch in Eraserhead. The mist-filled streets, flickering light bulbs, and corridors in hues of brown, grey, and green have the desired effect; we know this isn’t a happy place to live. The only ray of light in this otherwise dingy existence is Hannah (Mia Wasikowska), who Simon fabricates reasons to visit in the photocopying room where she works and, slightly creepily, spies on with a telescope from the box-room that he calls home. Alas, our Simon is such a non-entity that, like everyone else, Hannah can’t even remember his name. So far so glum.

Fortunately the arrival on the scene of Simon’s doppelganger, in the form of James Simon (also Eisenberg), livens proceedings. Here’s a man who knows what he wants and has the chutzpah to bloody well get it. Not only will he lie, cheat, and trample on anyone (including his hapless double) to achieve his goals but he seems to relish making this his modus operandi. Thus emerges the central conflict of the film, between the reliable but unimpressive Simon and the brash, bullshitting, but ultimately unsubstantial James. Of course, it’s difficult to miss THE POINT here; this isn’t just a story about two people in opposition but about two sides of the same person struggling to define them. Simon the nobody can’t continue his empty existence without ever having the confidence to pursue his desires; he must confront and ultimately tame the aggressive go-getting side of himself that is embodied in James. So intense is this struggle that, at its darkest moments, it points towards madness.

The problem is that the intensity of the struggle and its containment within a 93 minutes running time make it difficult for THE POINT not to hit the audience in the face. Moderating desire, and balancing pursuit of dreams with consideration of others is difficult. One can go too far in either direction and doing so will ultimately harm yourself, people around you, or both. It’s certainly a topic worth of consideration, but does it have to be so in-your-face? Perhaps the source material, in the form of Fyodor Dostoyevski’s novella (which, hands up, I’ll admit I haven’t read), is to blame but I suspect that this sort of issue is more easy to handle with nuance in a book. A reader has the time and space to piece together the message of a book in a way that suits them whereas a viewer, on this evidence, has it laid out in front of them on a big silver platter. With neon lights around it. And a trumpet fanfare on loop.

Perhaps this is a bit unfair; the fundamentals of the film are all in order. The depressing dystopia is well-rendered, Eisenberg and Wazikowska both put in balanced and moving performances, the rest of the cast are great, and there’s a host of highly entertaining cameos (from Tim Key, Sally Hawkins, Chris Morris, and Chris O’Dowd) that lighten the mood. The problem is that all of this is overshadowed by THE POINT. And this is where it comes back to the individual experience of the viewer. The person who I saw the film with said that they felt it was more like a series of vignettes, some of which worked very well and others less so. To an extent I agree; there were certainly some great scenes, ranging from hilarious to poignant. However I tend to appreciate films that tell stories and let me take some thoughts away from them. The Double, by contrast, felt like it was making its point so strongly that the story was only there to serve its purpose.