In a windswept fishing village, a mother is torn between protecting her beloved son and her own sense of right and wrong. A lie she tells for him rips apart their family and close-knit community.
You simply don't know how you're going to handle a situation until you are in it; until you've dug yourself a grave you can't get out of. In God's Creatures, this inquiry, and the way it forces the audience to look at themselves as harshly as its characters, is not only the film's sturdy foundation but its greatest emotional asset.
Making every moment grim is to risk over-saturation, but Davis and Holmer’s deft direction keeps things compelling here, skilfully leaving plenty of things unsaid and with the confidence to allow key events to happen offscreen or in the margins.