‘Four Letters of Love’ – Review
Romance reigns supreme in Four Letters of Love, the sweeping 2025 adaptation of Niall Williams’ beloved novel. This deeply heartfelt and emotionally wrought film is a stirring meditation on fate, longing, and the soul-deep connections that bind us across time and circumstance. Poetic and passionate, Four Letters of Love wraps audiences in a lyrical embrace that feels both timeless and wholly cinematic.
Nicholas (Fionn O’Shea) and Isabel (Ann Skelly) are made for each other, but as destiny pulls them together, family, passion and faith drives them apart. As they embark on journeys of heartache and misplaced love, fate soon contrives to pull the threads of their lives together.
Directed with an elegant, painterly touch by Polly Steele, Four Letters of Love unfolds like a dreamscape of aching romance. Set across the wild, windswept beauty of the West Coast of Ireland and the urban pulse of Dublin, the film captures the essence of longing and spiritual intuition with a touch of mysticism that feels almost ethereal. There’s a soulful depth here; an emotional gravity that lifts the narrative above your standard love story fare.
Four Letters of Love is a film of quiet resonance, a story where emotion flows through visuals, not verbosity. Polly Steele leans into ambience and subtlety, allowing stillness and silence to say what words cannot. This is a movie you don’t just watch — you feel it. With a spiritual sensitivity rare in modern cinema, Steele delicately explores themes of faith, destiny, artistic calling, and the transformative power of love. There’s a poetic complexity to the narrative, and each frame carries a quiet emotional gravity that speaks to the soul.
At the centre of this tale are its two luminous leads. Fionn O’Shea is quietly devastating as Nicholas, a young man grappling with the haunting legacy of his father’s divine inspiration and the mysteries it unleashes. Opposite him is Ann Skelly as Isabel, a headstrong, deeply romantic young woman scarred by tragedy and longing for a love that transcends time. Both actors are spellbinding, and their performances pulse with raw sincerity and aching tenderness. Their chemistry is unforced — a soulful, simmering slow burn that unfolds over time, echoing the spiritual undertones of fate and connection that define the film’s heart.
Adding rich emotional depth to the tapestry are the standout supporting performances from Pierce Brosnan, Helena Bonham Carter, and Gabriel Byrne. Brosnan brings poetic gravitas to the role of William Coughlan, Nicholas’ father, a man stirred by divine inspiration to pursue a life of creativity. His portrayal is beautifully restrained — soulful, enigmatic, and laced with quiet intensity. Helena Bonham Carter, in a refreshingly grounded role, plays Margaret Gore, Isabel’s mother, with both stern rationality and heartfelt conviction. And Gabriel Byrne as Muiris, Isabel’s introspective father and a man attuned to life’s spiritual mysteries, provides a thoughtful counterbalance to the film’s mystical leanings. Together, these veteran performers anchor the film with gravitas and grace, enriching its exploration of love, loss, and the unseen threads that bind us.
Visually, the film is a feast. Cinematographer Damien Elliott captures the lush, windswept Irish coast with painterly strokes, bringing out the spiritual undertones in the land itself. Every frame feels soaked in memory and meaning, aided by a delicate, haunting score from Anne Nikitin that threads emotion through every scene without ever overpowering it.
Where Four Letters of Love truly excels is in its refusal to rush. It leans into silences, into moments of stillness and uncertainty, allowing its characters the space to breathe — and in doing so, it gives the audience the chance to feel. It’s a romance that asks something of you: patience, faith, and a belief in the ineffable nature of love.
Heartfelt, haunting, and achingly beautiful, Four Letters of Love is a tender triumph, a cinematic love letter to those who believe in destiny, and the kind of love that’s written long before we’re ever born.
Image: The Reset Collective
