by Charles Kirkland, Jr.
A troubled headmaster at a school a British reform school faces a series of challenges, both personal and professional, including one of his wards named Shy in Steve.
Steve is the headmaster of Stanton Wood, a British reform school, a last-chance institution for troubled boys. Over the course of one chaotic day, he navigates misbehaving students, overburdened staff, and a visiting documentary crew whose presence only inflames tensions. At the center of his concern is Shy, a long-term resident who, unbeknownst to Steve, has suffered a recent trauma and is beginning to unravel. To top it all off, the school has been sold, casting a long shadow of uncertainty over its future and everyone in it.
Adapted from Max Porter’s novella Shy and directed by Tim Mielants, Steve is a somber, affecting character study anchored by a raw, quietly shattering performance from Cillian Murphy. The cast also includes Tracey Ullman, Jay Lycurgo, Little Simz, and Emily Watson, all contributing to the film’s emotional depth and simmering intensity.
Unfolding over a single, pressure-cooker day, Steve follows his protagonist as he battles both the external chaos of the institution and the internal wreckage of his own psyche. The day begins with a moment of quiet connection between Steve and Shy, before plunging them both into a swirl of testosterone, trauma, and the fraying tension of too many broken systems. As Steve’s mental health fractures under the weight of addiction, guilt, and past trauma, the film mirrors this deterioration by splitting its focus between Steve and Shy, two lives on the edge, circling self-destruction and clinging to scraps of hope.
Murphy delivers one of his most restrained and devastating performances to date, carrying the emotional weight of the film with nuance and empathy. Jay Lycurgo is a standout as Shy, deftly capturing the bravado, vulnerability, and quiet desperation of a young person in crisis. Though underutilized at times, the supporting cast, particularly Ullman and Watson, flesh out the world of Stanton Wood with lived-in authenticity.
Director Tim Mielants crafts an atmosphere thick with tension and claustrophobia, juxtaposing gritty realism with fleeting moments of tenderness. The integration of the documentary crew’s footage adds urgency and unease, blurring the line between observer and participant. Mielants’ directorial stylistic flourishes through grainy interviews, impressionistic close-ups, and a pulsing drum and bass score that elevate the chaos without overwhelming the story.
Steve is undeniably powerful and often deeply moving. By shifting focus from the boys in the source material to the adult figure at its center, the film becomes less a coming-of-age story than a meditation on emotional erosion, how pain doesn’t vanish with age, but festers if left unaddressed. It’s rich in pathos, but at times its emotional weight borders on overwhelming. The ending, suspended between hope and despair, is deliberately unresolved, poignant for some, unsatisfying for others.
Rated R for pervasive language, substance abuse, and sexual material, Steve is a bold, compassionate portrait of leadership, sacrifice, and the hidden cost of care. Murphy’s performance is riveting, the emotional texture of the film dense and authentic, even when the tone flirts with melodrama. For those drawn to intense, character-driven dramas with psychological depth, Steve is a demanding but deeply rewarding experience, an unflinching look at institutional failure, human fragility, and the aching desire to make a difference, even when the world refuses to change.
Grade: B-