The McDonagh brothers are quickly becoming the go-to men on the British Isles if you’re after a witty, dark, insanely quotable and thought provoking film. John Michael McDonagh has flown a little more under the radar than his brother Martin, best known for In Bruges (2008) and Seven Psychopaths (2012), but he follows up his debut The Guard (2011) with Calvary, a piece of filmmaking which may be the finest picture of them all. As an existential murder mystery exploring the fading relevance of the church, it’s violent and unsettling at times, while darkly comic throughout.

Calvary’s opening, one of the best in recent memory, begins with a confession. “I tasted semen for the first time at aged 7” are the first lines, muttered by an individual, who after suffering abuse as a child at the hands of the church decides it’s time to exact some revenge. It will be the innocent father James Lavelle (Brendan Gleeson) who will pay the ultimate price.  He has until a week Sunday to get his things in order, before his execution, down at the beach, is to take place.

What might appear at first glance to be parochial detective story focuses far more on the themes of morality, fate, and the erosion of faith than the comparatively novel matter of who the killer might be and whether his threat will come to fruition.  As the countdown to judgment day plays out, we are introduced to a range of characters and potential suspects.

There’s a narcissistic doctor (Aiden Gillen) outspoken in his atheistic beliefs who we see enjoying a line of cocaine in the toilets of a pub, serial adulterer (Orla O’rourke) the wife of the local butcher (Chris O’Dowd), who may or may not have sustained domestic abuse at the hands of her Ivorian lover (Isaach de Bankole) Then we have a sexually frustrated young man (Killian Scott), and an extravagantly wealthy banker (the hilarious Dylan Moran) who’s apparent success has led to an emptiness and guilt he tries to compensate for with his drinking habits.

Brendan Gleeson is outstanding as the compassionate priest who is tormented by his parish. His role and faith are continually questioned, in spite of his dignified and persistent attempts to dispense with advice and good will. He does his very best to help where he can, even if it’s hardly welcomed with open arms, never mind given the appreciation it deserves. Another standout performance comes from Kelly Reilly, who plays his troubled daughter, coincidentally visiting during this fateful week. Through her we see Lavelle’s past regrets and desires, and their relationship is at once tragic and touching.

Calvary is heavy on the dialogue, yet it’s so wonderfully written and the pacing is perfect, that this fact almost goes unnoticed.  It’s a genuine pleasure to watch, with every scene feeling important and meticulously crafted. Aesthetically the film is a triumph – with some stunning landscape cinematography and striking close ups. It’s no surprise that early reviews from Sundance correctly predicted its eventual critical acclaim and art-house reception. Films like this restore one’s faith in cinema at a time when a lot of stuff coming to the big screen can feel lazy and hollow, and as such, it’s not to be missed.