‘Murmur’ review: Dir. Heather Young (2021) [GFF]

Murmur marks the feature film debut of writer, director, and editor, Heather Young. The film, which receives its UK premiere at Glasgow Film Festival, is an intimate study into loneliness and the need for companionship. Newcomer Shan MacDonald leads Murmur, playing Donna, a woman who lives alone, filling the hours consuming alcohol and desperately trying to reconnect with her estranged daughter; despite having recently been convicted of a drink driving charge. One of her punishments for her misdemeanour is to complete community service at a local animal shelter. Here, she meets elderly dog Charlie and, seeing so much of herself reflected back at her, she requests to take him home. Once home, Charlie’s influence sets Donna on the path to recovery, but he also opens up her heart to the possibility of helping even more animals…and soon she finds herself overrun. 

Shot in the most naturalistic way possible, Murmur has a strong documentary feel to it. The camera is always following Donna, placing the viewer into the role of voyeur, never getting too close and amplifying that disconnect that Donna has with those around her. The lighting is kept to a minimum, cinematographer Jeff Wheaton seemingly relying only on what was at the location to capture the events. This means that the bulk of the film is played out under artificial tungsten lights, which coat the images with a harsh dullness that also serve to reinforce the idea that the world and Donna are not allies. 

Subdued films such as Murmur often rely on a sumptuous score to offer some respite to the imagery unfolding on screen. Here though, there is a distinct lack of score, with Young opting to present Donna’s world in its entirety, and not disguising what is happening with music. With no score to escape into, the viewer is trapped, much like Donna, in the environment and has no option but to observe her uncomfortable isolation. Although lacking a non-diegetic score, Young fills the soundscape with the cacophonous jumble of animal sounds. As Donna’s collection of critters increases, so too does the intensity and volume of the design. This generates the sensation that we too are drowning with so many creatures around us. 

The naturalistic nature of Murmur is followed through in the performances. With the film being made with an almost entirely non-professional cast, Young captures some raw and talented performances. MacDonald is simply incredible as Donna. Her performance is so realistic in its portrayal of a lonely person on the fringes of society that it’s hard not to find yourself as equally worried about Shan as you are Donna. MacDonald has a very expressive face and conveys Donna’s sadness beautifully. Her dialogue delivery feels improvised rather than scripted, most of it coming from interactions with the animals in her care, and covering situations that those of us with pets have experienced a thousand times before. Her performance is so pure that Stanislavski himself would have a hard time telling the difference between fact and fiction. 

This is a film that leans into the slice-of-life mode of story-telling, Murmur doesn’t follow the traditional story-arc formula, though it does cover enough material that the viewer feels as if they have been on a journey. This journey is a highly emotional one, and it’s hard to watch Murmur and not think about those people like Donna that exist in our world. Through Donna’s actions Young explores the idea that addicts often replace one addiction with another. Donna gives up her drinking for Charlie, but the compulsion to rescue more animals replaces that vice. It’s made all the more intense as the animals actually offer her the unconditional love that she so clearly yearns for. 

An achingly lonely film, filled with poignancy, Murmur also manages to be oddly warm. The connection between Donna and her furry friends is heart-warming and speaks to any that have loved an animal. That animals can generate such comfort is an important message to get across, and whilst the number that Donna ends up with is excessive, it casts a light on how necessary they are for our mental health. 

It isn’t just Donna’s plight that is examined, Young also exposes the harsh reality of unwanted animals and what they go through. Scenes in and around the animal shelter get really intense and will be tough for keen animal lovers to sit through. With the exception of a couple of professionally trained animals, the bulk of the feline and canine cast are made up of either the cast’s own pets, or were found at rescue centres, and Young captures the true chaos of animals perfectly. 

By telling her story in such a naturalistic manner Young casts a spotlight on very important societal issues. Isolation is something that most of us can relate to at the moment, but Young reminds us that for so many, it has been a way of life for much longer than the pandemic. People like Donna do exist,  and as uncomfortable as Murmur can be to watch in certain moments, it highlights that we could all do better. 

Murmur was reviewed at Glasgow Film Festival 2021.