Stephen Frears

In The Snapper (1993), Frears keeps our attention on the family’s responses to one another. Roddy Doyle adapts his own novel, and the household and barroom conversations give the director plenty to work with. Colm Meaney supplies much of the warmth and bite, without making the rest of the family incidental. We were moved by the household’s affection, because the actors earn it by paying attention to one another. Frears also lets distress remain part of the comedy, so the good humour never becomes compulsory.

His feature debut, Gumshoe (1971), was followed by years of television work before the breakthrough of My Beautiful Laundrette (1985). Dangerous Liaisons (1988) began his Hollywood work, and he has since alternated studio assignments with British independent and personal projects. From the neo-noir of The Grifters (1990) to the London immigrant drama Dirty Pretty Things (2002), he changes genres without abandoning his attention to people. A recognisable personal look has rarely been his priority.

The Snapper makes the practical value of that approach clear. Oliver Stapleton’s cinematography holds us on the people and their reactions, while Mark Geraghty’s production design gives their home a convincing ordinariness. The surroundings need to be believable for the household’s private business to interest us. There is no need for the rooms to compete with the actors, and Frears gives the performances that space.

The reservation is that affection can do too much of the film’s work. The Snapper is sometimes too quick to forgive the family, especially over the unequal demands placed on women. Doyle and Frears get us to enjoy the household without always making us sit long enough with the discomfort it causes. That is a substantial limit to an otherwise generous comedy. For an evening in good company, start here, but be prepared to question a little more than the director does.