It’s trite and predictable stuff: the laughs are forced; the pathos is over-stewed.

While there’s nothing outrightly stereotypical here, The Miracle Club suffers from being both sentimental and superficial. It’s exactly the sort of film you suspect was made to cater to American, rather than Irish tastes.

Some likeable performances — and solid Irish accents — can’t save a dreary parade of clichés. Pray that the Lord forgives these cinematic sins.

The movie feels almost like a fairytale.