Netflix continues to deliver compelling period pieces with the addition of Mothering Sunday, the 2021 British romantic drama that has quietly become a must-watch for audiences seeking emotional depth and exquisite storytelling. Directed by French filmmaker Eva Husson and adapted by Alice Birch from Graham Swift’s acclaimed 2016 novella, the film transports viewers to the English countryside in the aftermath of World War I, where class divides, unspoken grief, and fleeting passion collide on a single transformative day.
At its core, Mothering Sunday unfolds primarily on March 30, 1924—Mothering Sunday, a traditional day when servants were given time off to visit their families. For Jane Fairchild (Odessa Young), a young orphan and housemaid employed by the wealthy Niven family, this rare freedom presents an opportunity for a secret rendezvous. Jane has been carrying on a passionate, years-long affair with Paul Sheringham (Josh O’Connor), the charming but doomed son of the neighboring aristocratic family. Paul, engaged to be married in just 11 days to a more “suitable” woman from his own social circle, Emma Hobday (Emma D’Arcy), knows their time together is limited. Yet on this sun-drenched spring afternoon, the lovers seize their moment at Paul’s empty estate, indulging in intimacy that feels both liberating and achingly finite.
The film masterfully weaves nonlinear timelines, shifting fluidly between this pivotal day and glimpses of Jane’s past and future. As a young woman, Jane reflects on her orphanhood and the emotional detachment it has instilled in her. In later years, she emerges as a successful writer, portrayed in her old age by the legendary Glenda Jackson in one of her final screen appearances. These flashes forward reveal how the events of Mothering Sunday reverberate through Jane’s life, shaping her creativity, her relationships, and her understanding of loss. A key catalyst is the typewriter gifted to her, symbolizing the spark of her literary ambition, but the film’s emotional weight lies in the third, unspoken incident that Jane guards as a secret—the tragic turn that follows her tryst with Paul.
The supporting cast features powerhouse performances from Olivia Colman and Colin Firth as Mr. and Mrs. Niven, Jane’s employers. Colman delivers a flinty, heartbreaking portrayal of Clarrie Niven, a grieving mother shattered by the war’s toll on her family, her brittle demeanor masking profound sorrow. Firth, as the gentle but emotionally hollow Godfrey Niven, excels in quiet restraint, his every flinch and platitude about the weather conveying the stifling repression of upper-class British grief. Their scenes together—particularly Clarrie’s sharp rebukes and Godfrey’s pained empathy—add layers of quiet devastation to the narrative. Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù appears as Donald, a philosopher who later enters Jane’s life, while Patsy Ferran plays Milly, the fellow housemaid who contrasts Jane’s independence with her own familial ties.
Husson’s direction brings a sensual, almost intoxicating quality to the film. The cinematography by Jamie Ramsay captures the lush beauty of the English countryside—golden light filtering through trees, the soft glow of spring blossoms—while Morgan Kibby’s score envelops the story in melancholy elegance. The intimate scenes between Jane and Paul are handled with candor and tenderness, eschewing coyness for raw authenticity. Full-frontal nudity is presented naturally, emphasizing vulnerability and the equality of the lovers in their stolen moments, free from societal judgment. This sensuality contrasts sharply with the emotional chill that permeates the rest of the film, creating a poignant tension between passion and profound loss.
Critics have hailed Mothering Sunday as a lush, aching period drama, praising its emotional strength and the ensemble’s talent. The nonlinear structure, while occasionally disorienting, grounds itself in the characters’ inner worlds, revealing truths gradually like memories resurfacing. Themes of grief—both personal and collective in the shadow of the Great War—class barriers, forbidden love, and the redemptive power of art resonate deeply. Jane’s journey from bereaved foundling to accomplished writer underscores resilience and the transformative potential of memory and creativity. The film refuses easy sentimentality, opting instead for a quiet, reflective tone that lingers, prompting viewers to ponder the delicate moments that define a life.
Performances anchor the story’s power. Young brings flinty grace to Jane, capturing her detachment and quiet determination. O’Connor infuses Paul with beguiling charm and underlying melancholy, making their doomed romance feel achingly real. Colman and Firth, though in smaller roles, deliver unforgettable moments of restrained anguish, their brief appearances leaving lasting impressions. Jackson’s cameo as the elderly Jane adds poignant finality, her presence a testament to endurance.
Though some note the film’s chilly remove and inconclusive ending, its beauty lies in its subtlety—every glance, whispered word, and tear-streaked smile tells a story of love tested by time and tragedy. It transcends conventional romance, offering a meditation on how loss shapes us, how secrets endure, and how hope flickers even in darkness. This is not a film that rushes to catharsis; it invites contemplation, leaving viewers emotionally raw and reflective.
Available on Netflix, Mothering Sunday is a cinematic masterpiece that haunts long after the credits roll—a story of heartbreak, longing, fragile hope, and the enduring human spirit. In a world of fleeting distractions, it reminds us of the profound impact of one ordinary day and the extraordinary lives it can forever alter.
