Jimmy (Joe Mullins) is a forty something year old farmer from rural Ireland, living a life of quiet semi-solitude. You'd be forgiven for thinking that this is a documentary to begin with, as Jimmy talks straight to camera about the woes of his life; days passing without speaking to another person, having to look after his ill father, his lack of love life, his lack of alternative prospects. The camera follows him as he goes about his daily duties of milking the cows, painting the house, ploughing the fields. Every now and again we get introduced to a new character, like Tommy (Muiris Crowley), Jimmy's best friend who has been blessed with youth and good looks, and is unburdened by such hassles as employment and family ties. But mostly we're alone with Jimmy, and we're left waiting for something to happen… but that something never arrives.
Forty five minutes into the film, something happens that you think might finally make things more interesting. But no, it too is just pushed to one side, and we're back to Jimmy and his depressing monologues to camera. Pilgrim Hill is an exercise in misery, an experiment in pushing an audience to the limit of their patience with its endless sequences of... well, nothing much. The movie begins with Jimmy in a bad place, hinting at looking at a way out of his current situation. An hour and a half later, we're in the same - if not worse - situation, with no real resolution. This is misery porn at its most miserable.
Mullins is not a very good actor, and having him anchor the entire film was a bad decision by the film-makers. He's not too bad when talking straight to camera, but any time he's needed to interact with another person, everything becomes stilted and emotionless. Crowley is slightly better, but he's not around much to leave an impression. It's unclear what writer/director Gerard Barrett was trying to tell us with Pilgrim Hill, aside from the fact that sometimes bad things happen, and sometimes that's sad. Thanks Barrett, but we're Irish, we already knew that.