Deft touch, amazing effects makes for captivating Sheep
Deftly executed and suffused with a wry sense of humor, Kyle Balda’s The Sheep Detectives is likely to entertain the adults in the audience more than the children it’s seemingly aimed at. Adapted from the novel Three Bags Full by Leonie Swann, the film threads a very delicate narrative needle. Though it has more than its fair share of whimsy and employs slapstick humor to keep the youngsters engaged, at the story’s core is a murder. Though not brutal in nature, having to explain to the 10-and-under set why the kindly shepherd George Hardy is taking the big sleep may prove a bit dicey. If you can get past that, there are plenty of humorous ovine antics to keep them distracted.
Hardy (Hugh Jackman) makes no bones about his feelings regarding sheep. He refers to them as “the kindest creatures on Earth,” and subscribes to the notion that they are “the secret to happiness and contain the answer to all life’s questions.” While I’ve not spent any time around sheep, this does seem to be overstating things a bit. Still, Hardy is a man of his convictions as he treats the sheep he tends with respect, kindness and love. And he is also a man of routine as after his daily regimen of caring and tending to his hairy charges, he ends each day by reading to them from murder mysteries before they drift off to sleep.
Though done as a lark, this winds up being very important as Hardy is found dead one morning and, suspecting foul play, the sheep decide to apply all they’ve learned from these readings to solve his murder. The smartest of the lot, and the late shepherd’s favorite, Lily (voice by Julia Louis-Dreyfus) leads the investigation, tracking down clues and spinning theories as to who the culprit might be. She’s helped by Mopple (Chris O’Dowd), the most realistic in the bunch, and is assisted by the most unlikely on the flock, a young winter lamb (Tommy Birchall) who’s been shunned by the others because of the timing of his birth.
Other key members of Hardy’s flock are the noble Sir Ritchfield (Patrick Stewart), the easily distracted Cloud (Regina Hall), the visually-impaired Wool-Eyes (Rhys Darby) and twin rams Reggie and Ronnie (both by Brett Goldstein) who get great pleasure out of bashing things. However, the most sympathetic in the flock is Sebastian (Bryan Cranston), a stand-offish ram who harbors a dark secret, one that, when it comes to light, helps explain why he’s such a loner.
Though not nearly as charismatic, I would be remiss if I did not mention the human characters. Officer Derry (Nicholas Braun) is the clueless police officer assigned to solve Hardy’s murder, while Rebecca (Molly Gordon) is a mysterious stranger who comes to town at just the wrong moment. Suspects include Caleb (Tosin Cole), another sheepherder with a unique approach, Ham (Conleth Hill), the local butcher who coveted Hardy’s sheep, Beth (Hong Chau) a shopkeeper who had eyes for Hardy, and Elliot (Nicholas Galitzine), a reporter looking for a scoop. Emma Thompson rounds things out as Hardy’s lawyer, who’s in charge of his estate.
Obviously, with all these characters there are a great many moving parts and, as a result, very little down time where the story is concerned. Modeled after traditional mysteries, the film moves at a crisp pace, repeatedly switching from the sheep’s efforts to solve the case to Derry’s, clues and revelations tripping on the heels of one another before arriving at a solution. The culprit is, of course, the least suspicious of the lot, making the conclusion all the more fun.
The computer-generated-effects are astounding, the sheep as lifelike as can be. Combining fluid movement with synchronized lip movement and dialogue, makes for a convincing illusion that’s captivating. The only fly in the visual ointment is a poorly rendered chase scene in which Mopple creates havoc in the town square, blindly bouncing and bumping into things. Though the speed of the sequence obscures some of the technique’s shortcomings, this still comes off as the least-convincing scene in the film.
Amidst all the ovine hijinks are worthwhile messages, none of which seemingly can’t be conveyed enough. Lily and the rest must learn to get out of their comfort zone as well as accept outsiders. Equally important is the recognition that harsh things can happen and that living in denial of them eventually leads to greater trauma. These are heavy themes, but Balda and Swann apply a deft touch in getting them across.
Hardy’s approach with his sheep is reflective of this. The lessons he teaches them are not overt, simply dispensed in a seemingly off-hand manner that proves more effective than a more obvious approach. Sheep manages this as well, sneaking in a worthy message or two, amidst the laughs, drama and heartache it so poignantly conveys. In Theaters.
Hokum a bracing examination of guilt
Teeming with atmosphere and driven by a compelling lead performance, Damien McCarthy’s Hokum is the kind of film that slowly gets under your skin, a deliberately paced shocker that gradually builds to a well-deserved catharsis for its main character. Shot in Ireland and using its peoples’ folklore as its basis, the director’s intent is not to capture the lush beauty of the country but rather venture into its nooks and crannies where ancient forces lurk its inhabitants would rather not acknowledge. Denial is at the root of many of its characters’ problems, their inability to face their pasts or take responsibility for their indiscretions a seeming invitation for a stark awakening.
It doesn’t take long to tell that Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is carrying an awful burden. Abrasive and rude, he suffers no fools, his behavior a defense to keep people at a distance. A successful author of a fantasy series, he’s traveled to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland for a dual purpose. The first is to finish his highly anticipated next novel; the other is to spread his parents’ ashes. Seems the deceased couple spent their honeymoon there, a particular oak tree being a special spot for them that Bauman finds with little trouble. After completing his task, he stumbles upon Jerry (David Wilmot), a homeless man given to odd pronouncements that are dismissed by the locals but come to have deeper meaning for Bauman.
As one would expect, the hotel has its share of eccentrics. Mal (Peter Coonan), the manager, is always on edge, convinced the owner, his father-in-law, hates him. Fergal (Michael Patric) is a jack-of-all trades who enjoys killing sheep with his crossbow and Alby (Will O’Connell), is a rather clueless porter who juggles a variety of other jobs. Cob (Brendan Conroy), the proprietor, has a mean streak he makes no effort to contain, while Fiona (Florence Ordesh), appears the most normal of the bunch but has a secret of her own.
They all play a part in Bauman’s redemption as he’s forced to come to terms with a deed from his past. This is done in the confines of the Honeymoon Suite a supposedly haunted room he makes the mistake of entering. It’s to Scott and McCarthy’s credit that they’re able to sustain our interest during the final hour of the movie. Tempting narrative stagnation, most of the story takes place in this one location, yet McCarthy’s intriguing, layered plot and the actor’s compelling work keep the audience engaged throughout.
Kudos to production designer Til Frohlich and cinematographer Colm Hogan. Their combine efforts produce a genuinely disturbing and oppressive environment throughout, particularly during Bauman’s extended stay in the haunted room. Warm hues that are normally comforting become suffocating while the close nature of the suite’s accoutrements convey the character’s sense of isolation to marvelous effect. This, along with McCarthy’s tight shots make for an effectively claustrophobic environment.
Reflective surfaces play a key role in the film. Bauman encounters them again and again and his need to reflect on his past becomes apparent. His journey toward healing begins with his convincing himself he’s worthy of forgiveness, a notion he’s dismissed as just so much nonsense. All that occurs at the hotel forces him to come to terms with the guilt he carries, a process that can only begin with his acceptance of things he does not understand. Hokum proves an effective metaphor for being open to that which is alien to us, a daring act which may lead to a better understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In Theaters.
This article appears in May 7-13, 2026.
