From the sexual proclivities of middle-aged women to odd encounters with smart appliances and clandestine Christmas dinners, Liam O Mochain’s anthology feature Abode has it all. Across the five separate stories that comprise his film, O Mochain explores different definitions of ​‘home’ for his disparate set of characters. Yet even as the stories are sprawling in their focus, they are tied together tonally by a penchant for obvious sentimentality and only alleviated by some instances of delicate observational humour. 

The first story follows Carol (Marion O’Dwyer), a grieving mother, as she hosts a holiday party for a group of unhoused friends. Their displays of camaraderie are warm and lived-in, but when Carol discusses her late son the script leans on clichés that undercut any wider resonances the story might have. The third entry, about a mother reconnecting with the son she gave up for adoption, employs on-the-nose soundtrack cues and clunky dialogue to overemphasise the sadness of the vignette. 

When O Mochain occasionally lets go of the need to spell out all characters’ feelings, the stories are finally allowed to shine. In the fourth short, the act of renovating a kitchen leads to a couple’s undoing in an absurdist and humorous take on technological encroachment in the domestic sphere. Joshua Bourke’s dryly composed cinematography heightens the absurdity, the oven in the kitchen almost personified as a robotic and eerie villain. The second and strongest chapter is a quietly empowering tale in which Peggy (Mary McEvoy) hires an escort, Red (Brendan Conroy), to keep her company, spending all day with her suit-clad, panama-hat wearing suitor, much to the chagrin of her adult son Jerry (played by O Mochain himself). ​“Jerry, he won’t mind?” Red asks, but Peggy is unequivocal in her rebellion: ​“It’s my house.” The plot is mundane, but funny and compelling in its simplicity: the pair have a meal, they go to the pub, they have sex. As her escort leaves, cash in hand, Peggy is left by herself in bed with the happiest of smiles. ​“Same time next month?” She is home alone, but on her own terms. 

Abode unfortunately caps things off with its weakest story, following tired parents on their well-deserved break from childcare at a seaside hotel. The slow intimacy of the main couple’s vacation fails to engage, and the mystery in the writing makes the story feel aimless, with little momentum propelling it forwards. When you finally understand the significance of the trip, it is too late; characters’ tears come rolling in, but they feel unearned and rushed. As with some of the other segments of this film, the focus on the mundane often comes at the expense of the catharsis the story needs in order to truly hit home.