Although America has so recently encountered an unfathomable depravity within its own Catholic Church, the account of grievances against the Irish Catholic Church in the 1960s is as potently disturbing. The shock-value of misogynistic moral rigidity and slave labor at the hands of a religious institution make "The Magdalene Sisters" a viable candidate for a top-notch historical drama, especially as it is based on true events. Written and directed by Peter Mullan, the film accomplished the journalistic goal of social justice (be it retrospective) but lacks in artistic appeal. This isn't because it feels like a documentary or an episode of 20/20. It does in fact emulate the dramatized and entertaining celluloid paradigm of fictional drama, just not as well as it should. The directing is often lethargic, while character development is slow and ungratifying. Still, the fascinating topic, solid acting, authenticity of setting and a few outstanding scenes redeem the film and make it worth watching. If one were to economize their time and view only the strongest, most ingenious scene the movie has to offer, he need only wait until the opening credits. A spellbinding solo on a bodhran, a traditional goatskin Irish drum, is underscored by the close up of the instrument and the deafening dominance of the music. As the camera zooms out onto a scene of a modest Irish wedding and onto the faces of the listeners (hard and plebian, but softened by the music), the quiet and somber atmosphere of the film takes form. To the same vitalizing soundtrack, we see young Margaret, played by Anne-Marie Duff, lured out of the crowded reception hall onto the roof and raped. She returns downstairs, and as quickly as it happened, news of it dissipates through the crowd. Whispers and shameful glances overpower the dominant score. The consequence of the rape and the fulcrum of the film is that Margret, branded a tainted sinner, is punished for her aggressor's crimes. Her sentence is to be served out at the Church of the Magdalene sisters under the auspices of the Sisters of Mercy, or as the film portrays them, a handful of "twisted, sadistic bitch(es)."

The introduction of two other girls forced into the same institution materializes into a not-so-holy trinity, with the women united by their plight, not by friendship. Wild, beautiful Bernadette, played by Nora-Jane Noone, is brought in for flirting with boys outside her orphanage - punished for her licentiousness rather than any particular misdeed. Rose, played by Dorothy Duffy, is as kind and timid as her name suggests. She gives birth out of wedlock after which she is forced to sign away her baby to a Catholic orphanage and is shipped to cleanse her soul at the Magdalene Institution.

Apparently the cleansing of a sullied soul is accomplished by the cleansing of sullied clothing, since the principle role of the inmates is back-breaking labor in the infamous Magdalene laundries. Besides doting on the cruelty of the daily task, Mullan emphasizes the chore as a lucrative business for the profiting nuns rather than a cathartic ritual. To expose the nuns as tyrants and hypocrites, Mullan uses simple and conventional juxtaposition of the sinners' inhumanly meager living conditions against the nuns' neatly hidden indulgences- such as stowed wads of cash and their disproportionately rich provisions. Because a bulk of the movie, like its characters, is trapped within the prison walls, a quiet and somber mood haunts many of the scenes.

Most striking about this story, and somewhat detrimental to the film, is that friendship, attachment and even conversation are forbidden and punished by draconian methods. The movie, therefore, cannot rely on a dialogue to unravel personalities, but also opts out of action as an alternative. Rather, Mullan shifts his gaze to faces and expressions, gradually toughened by helplessness and desperation. Despite occasionally stolen glances, words and personal clashes between the three leading ladies, the film remains branched into three separate parts which run parallel to one another but never touch. Even personal introspection is not fully redeeming since the stymied character development gives little insight into their minds, only an account of their hardships and change of temperament.

Beyond the immediate plot line, Mullan depicts a distinctly unique vision of Ireland. While the green pastures, old churches and modest clothing complement a timeless conception of Irish life, a sprinkling of the modern and commercial ameneties of the 1960s appear anachronistic and add intrigue.

The film, neither documentary nor drama, is interesting but not gripping; consistent but not finalized. After the audience is duly convinced of the hysteria-driven cruelty of the Magdalene laundries, Mullan tries to provide the satisfaction of revenge by a loud and haphazard sequence of escape attempts. This offers a certain primal stimulation but demotes the film to an action montage rather than a serious historical expose. After it ended, I remembered more of the scenery -the Church, the fields and the Irish people - than I did of the three girls for whom the setting was set.