There are many reasons to end a relationship. In some cases, there’s a clash of personalities; in others, some indiscretion committed by one (or both) of the partners causes them to re-evaluate whether it is worth saving, or if just cutting it off would be better. Sometimes, it’s simply a case of two people drifting apart, falling out of love and realising that separating (whether temporarily or forever) would ultimately be the best possible step forward. There’s nothing quite as difficult to navigate as a relationship in which the spark has been extinguished, which is where we find Stella and Gerry, the protagonists of Midwinter Break, adapted from the novel of the same name by Bernard MacLaverty, written and directed by Polly Findlay, who tackles some intimidating themes with elegance and nuance. The film centres around the couple, a mild-mannered older pair of Irish immigrants who settled in Scotland in the 1970s, having traumatic experiences during the Troubles, and seeking a more secure life outside those violence-riddled borders. On a whim, Stella books a Christmas holiday for the pair of them, choosing Amsterdam, for reasons that become clear once they arrive. Originally following the same usual itinerary as the countless tourists who flock to the Dutch capital year after year, Stella quietly reveals that her intentions for choosing this city was not merely based on historical interest, but also part of an ongoing attempt to rediscover herself, which she finds ultimately does not involve Gerry, the man who has been by her side for decades, but who she no longer wishes to call her husband for reasons that eventually emerge through this journey. A complex, deeply moving character-based drama that is exceptionally well-made, while never attempting to do more than was required, Midwinter Break is a solid, meaningful existential drama that does what was needed, and leaves the viewer with many questions, allowing us to find the answers ourselves: whether they’re contained in this film, or in the world that surrounds it is entirely up to individual interpretation.

Memory is one of those rare themes that is constantly explored through art, but unlike other common themes, it is never a case of merely retreading the same narrative territory, and instead a matter of seeing how each artist embraces something that is both universally experienced and impossible to entirely comprehend. In the case of Midwinter Break, we have the story of a couple who have seemingly settled into domestic bliss: they have reached the point where the fiery passion of their youth has been replaced with the pleasant boredom of long-term marriage, the sharpness of their romance being dulled by the passage of time, forcing them into a position of domestic comfort, the kind that many of us crave. There is something so enticing about growing old with someone to the point where it becomes second nature to just exist with another person. At first, we believe this is what the film is setting out to explore, showing that despite ideological differences (whether in terms of religion, politics, history or simply everyday life), Gerry and Stella remain deeply committed to one another. However, as we see throughout the film, even the most seemingly pleasant relationships are often built on an unstable foundation, one in which many secrets tend to be concealed, which is only natural, even if (in theory) it is a difficult and slippery path to navigate. The film examines what we soon discover to be the final days of this marriage, or at least what appears to be the last vestiges of what used to be a passionate relationship, but has now fizzled to the point where it is simply an act of going through the motions. Stella is the main propellant of this story – it is through her eyes that we see the world, and its her gradual attempt to open her heart to new experiences, while also acknowledging that this will come with an abundance of pain, which does not prove to be deterrent so much as it is a reason for her to embrace the possibilities that lie on the other side. It’s a fascinating subject, and one that Findlay examines with such incredible precision, working closely with the source text to extract its many complex themes.

As is often the case with these small, intimate character-driven dramas, what draws the viewer in is not always the story (especially since we could not possibly glean the extent of the themes that are being explored in this film from just a cursory glance) but rather the people bringing it to life. Midwinter Break is built on the presence of Lesley Manville and Ciarán Hinds, two superb actors who are frequently welcome additions to any cast, but don’t get many opportunities to lead films as frequently as their talents would lead us to believe. Despite usually occupying supporting parts, both Manville and Hinds prove that they are equally adept when it comes to commanding the screen and carrying a film on their own. Of the two, Manville is the more prominent performance, since it is through her eyes that we see the world – she’s the character on the journey of self-discovery, forced to exist within a situation that has grown so frustrating and miserable for her, that any kind of escape is not only welcome, it is entirely necessary. She never attempts to do more than was required, since not only does she has complete faith in the director to harness the more intricate moments, but her own confidence in her skills shines through in absolutely every scene, allowing her to focus on the authenticity of the story more than trying to convince the audience of the character’s complexity. Similarly, Hinds brings something very unique to the role of Gerry – the character is a man who tries to be a dutiful husband, but doesn’t realise that his own efforts are essentially futile, since he does everything to match what he believes to be the closest approximation to what his wife needs, when in reality it is all in his own interests. It takes a lot of work to turn a character who is essentially a self-centered alcoholic and make him into such a compelling co-lead, someone whose flaws are evident, but not to the point where it crosses over into villainy. It’s a superb performance, and one that is positively teeming with nuances, with the same being true of Manville, the pair making a formidable duo that carries this simple but effective film forward.

It is undeniable that Midwinter Break is a film about two people trying to make sense of a world that they don’t entirely understand, coming to the conclusion that, even at an advanced age, they are just as hopelessly lost as they were when they were impressionable young lover caught in the crossfire of a war neither of them agreed with, but were forced to endure until they managed to make their escape. It’s a difficult subject, and the original novel could have been perceived in several different ways, as far as tone tends to go. Fortunately, Findlay is a gifted filmmaker, and under her care, the film is a resilient and compelling exploration of some intimidating themes, handcrafted by a director whose sensitivity and genuine curiosity drive so much of the film. In the hands of a less empathetic director, the story would have been nothing more than an overwrought mess, a melodramatic glimpse into a rapidly deteriorating marriage in which every bit of tension evolves into something unbearably tacky. This is not the approach that Findlay chooses – instead, she focuses on developing the film as a very human exploration of what it means to grieve a relationship that has run its course. Gerry may be an alcoholic and an absent-minded husband, but he is not a bad person; this doesn’t mean that Stella should allow herself to be limited by being in a marriage with someone with whom she no longer feels that intense passion. It’s a film that tends to veer towards the ambiguous more often than not, and in refusing to provide the easy answers, it manages to actually create some very meaningful observations, many of which tend to quietly and methodically unravel the intricate nature of human connection in a way that is actually quite meaningful, never coming across as too overly heavy-handed, being forceful in terms of its message, but gentle in its execution, a perfect way to explore this topic.

At a glance, Midwinter Break does seem somewhat minor. It has everything we would expect from such a film – it is well-written, handsomely-made and features a pair of superb performances from two of our most reliable working actors. However, once we allow ourselves to look beneath the surface, we start to notice that what we initially wrote off as merely creases that are often found in these mildly intriguing character-based dramas are actually hidden recesses, in which some of the most poignant and captivating commentary is contained, patiently waiting for us to notice it. It is a very simple film, one that is not at all difficult to follow, but which also does not waste any time in establishing some of its core themes, which gradually reveal themselves as the story unravels and becomes more layered. The themes it is exploring are universal – one doesn’t need to be on the other side of middle age, in a loveless marriage where every moment just feels like it is compounding in deep existential frustration, to recognise the ideas at play here – this is a story of a woman realising that she is not bound by the unspoken rules of marriage, and that nothing is stopping her from being transparent and stating that she wishes she had a better life. It can border on cruel at times, since this is not a film that intends to portray itself as glossing over the more difficult emotions, choosing instead to have those conversations, granted that they are in a more direct and manageable form. We are frequently given access to Stella’s perspective, allowing us to see the world through her eyes, and it is quite effective when we start to see the message the film is intending to convey. Midwinter Break is far from an unimpeachable masterpiece, but it has more than enough nuance to qualify as something much more profound, leading to a poignant glimpse into the mind of a couple doing what they can to survive, but realising that there is not much more they can do than part on their own terms, which says everything we need to know when it comes to the themes right at the heart of this complex but beautiful film.