When I heard the Vatican had vigorously denounced The Magdalene Sisters, Glasgow-born actor-writer-director Peter Mullan’s blistering attack (indirectly, at least) on the Catholic Church, I had to laugh. Did the Pope actually think Mullan was planning to make an affectionate movie about the inhumane goings-on at the (now closed) Magdalene Asylums?

From the Sixties through the early Nineties, thousands of Irish girls were imprisoned in these institutions for indiscretions as innocent as flirting with the opposite sex. Mullan’s unflinching drama, based on accounts of women who suffered repeated abuse at the hands of the Magdalene nuns and priests, revolves around three teenagers whose parents have disowned them following various “sins” they’ve committed. Margaret (Anne-Marie Duff) is sent away after being raped at a wedding reception (the movie’s powerhouse opening scene, executed with minimal dialogue); Bernadette (Nora-Jane Noone) is shipped off merely for being a temptation to the young boys in her neighborhood; Rose (Dorothy Duffy) is banished by her parents for having a child out of wedlock.

At the Magdalene Asylum, Sister Bridget (a superb Geraldine McEwan, brimming with venomous smiles) informs the lasses they will pray ceaselessly and work — for no pay, of course — “beyond all human endurance” in order to cleanse their souls of their shameful misdeeds.

From the moment they arrive, Margaret, Rose and Bernadette toil like slaves in the Asylum’s laundry (the Magdalene Laundries, sponsored by the Catholic Church, were quite profitable), subsisting on substandard food while the nuns sit at a separate table, stuffing themselves with an array of appetizing goodies. The girls aren’t allowed to talk (but do anyway, mostly while folding laundry), have visitors or even form obvious friendships. When not being talked down to or beaten for the most minor infraction, they are forced to stand naked for inspection (Mullan doesn’t shy away from full-frontal nudity here, as uncomfortable as it makes us) or even sexually abused (as in the case of slow-witted Crispina, played by an unforgettable Eileen Walsh). Is it any wonder they fantasize constantly about — in the parlance of prison movies — going over the wall?

Tales of religious repression have long been with us, so The Magdalene Sisters isn’t terribly new or especially original. But Mullan nonetheless manages to make something powerful and absorbing out of this familiar material (The film won the Best Picture award at the Venice Film Festival last year, as well as the Discovery Award at the Toronto Film Festival). Eschewing a full-blown score, he uses music sparingly, heightening the story’s intensely dramatic beats through skillful use of silence. He treats his script almost as if it were a thriller, with nerve-jangling scares lying in wait around every corner (an effect achieved in partnership with editor Colin Monie and camera operator-turned-cinematographer Nigel Willoughby, whose instincts are unfailingly good). If Mullan (who has an effective cameo as an abusive father) errs at all, it’s his failure to provide a strong climax, as well as to even remotely humanize the Asylum staff (depicted as unfeeling monsters, while the girls are all innocent victims).

These flaws aside, The Magdalene Sisters is a disturbing, finely acted indictment of the blatant hypocrisy of organized religion (though Mullan refuses to call it anti-Catholic). With all the stories in the news these days about the Catholic Church settling scores of sexual abuse cases for millions of dollars, the film couldn’t be timelier.

The Magdalene Sisters starts August 22 at Landmark’s Hillcrest Cinemas. For more information, call (619) 299-2100.

Kyle Counts is the Gay and Lesbian Times film critic.