The Miracle Club

It’s trite and predictable stuff: the laughs are forced; the pathos is over-stewed.

While there’s nothing outrightly stereotypical here, The Miracle Club suffers from being both sentimental and superficial. It’s exactly the sort of film you suspect was made to cater to American, rather than Irish tastes.

Some likeable performances — and solid Irish accents — can’t save a dreary parade of clichés. Pray that the Lord forgives these cinematic sins.

The Miracle Club is the sort of Sunday afternoon entertainment that is as reassuring as a bowl of warm soup; although Thaddeus O’Sullivan’s film errs on the side of the tepid.

... This is little more than a checklist of themes – Grief! Faith! Feminism! Family! – standing in for any true complexity.

The Miracle Club’s own maneuverings can, at times, feel a bit pat and convenient. But its final moment of reconciliation... justifies the trip.

A legendary cast instill humanity into even the most trite scenes

It is likely to be just the tonic for viewers of a certain vintage who fancy escaping into a little old-school charm for 90 minutes.

Director Thaddeus O'Sullivan keeps everything light, even in the more serious moments. But there's a nicely prickly connection that emerges between the main characters, and a gentle message about forgiveness that's delivered skilfully by an adept cast.

At 88, Smith’s comic timing is as beautifully crisp as ever, but she also gets some fierce scenes of suppressed grief over the loss of her son and one lovely scene of reconciliation with Linney that is blindingly good.