Norah O'Neale: Typhus, bad timing, and a lot of staring

Is it worth your time?

Honestly, only if you are in the mood for something that feels like a forgotten postcard from 1944. If you love old-school Irish melodramas and don't mind a lead character who is a bit of a mess, you might get a kick out of it. If you want a fast-paced medical thriller, steer clear. This is for the slow-burn, black-and-white-Sunday-afternoon crowd.

The whole thing centers on this surgeon who seems much more interested in his complicated love life than the actual, you know, deadly typhus outbreak ravaging the town. It is honestly kind of wild how he bounces between the two nurses while people are basically falling over in the streets. Talk about a lack of professional boundaries.

The seaside atmosphere is actually pretty great, though. It’s got that gray, windy, salt-air feeling that makes you want to put on a sweater. You can almost smell the damp wool and the coal smoke. It reminded me a bit of the mood in The Country Doctor, though way less focused on the actual doctoring part.

Some random notes from my notepad:

• The dialogue is so clipped and proper it sounds like they’re all afraid of using too many syllables.
• There is a scene where someone is looking out a window at the sea for about three minutes too long. My cat stared at the screen for the entire duration, which is a compliment I guess?
• The way they handle the medical emergency is hilariously vague. Nobody ever washes their hands, but they look very concerned while holding thermometers.
• I spent most of the second act trying to figure out which nurse was which. They seem to exist solely to look worried at the surgeon.

It’s not as sharp as some of the other stuff from the era like I Accuse. There is a weird flatness to the pacing, like the film is just catching its breath between every single line of dialogue. It’s not necessarily bad, just… very deliberate. Sometimes it feels like the actors are waiting for a bus that’s running late.

The romantic stakes are pretty low-rent, honestly. You’re supposed to care about who he picks, but I found myself just hoping he’d go check on his patients instead. The whole "heroic surgeon" bit gets undermined by him being such a clueless romantic in the middle of a plague. Who does that?

It’s an uneven watch. There are moments of genuine tension when the sickness hits, and then we’re back to someone sighing over a tea cup. It’s a bit like watching someone try to solve a crossword puzzle while their house is on fire. Weird, but I couldn't stop looking. 🩺🌊