Flora and Son: Makes beautiful music

Flora and Son (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for sexual candor, brief drug use and relentless profanity

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

Like writer/director/musician John Carney, I firmly believe that everybody possesses an artistic bliss which, if discovered and properly nurtured, could dramatically improve one’s life.

 

To her surprise, Flora (Eve Hewson) soon anticipates her online guitar lessons with
genuine pleasure, because of the bond she establishes with her tutor.

Carney clearly values the transformative power of music, which became abundantly clear with 2007’s Once, the captivating breakout hit that made his rep and gave us an Academy Award-winning song: “Falling Slowly.” He followed that with the equally beguiling Begin Again (2013) and Sing Street (2016), both of which enhanced their character-driven pleasures with charming song scores.

Carney’s newest, however, is apt to be a tougher sell: in part because its roster of original tunes lacks a memorable ear-worm, but mostly because — as introduced — this story’s protagonist is thoroughly unlikable (unless one admires relentless, profanity-laced tirades that would make a dock worker blush).

 

That said, one can’t help admiring the unapologetic ferocity with which Eve Hewson plays 31-year-old Flora, a Dublin-based single mother still selfishly trying to make up for the long-ago lost adolescence resulting from the arrival of her now-14-year-old son, Max (Orén Kinlan).

 

Flora is selfish, spiteful, impatient and intolerant, with a an entitlement chip the size of Inishmore on her shoulder. She “works” rather disinterestedly as a daycare nanny, then devotes her evenings to bars, discos and getting laid. As a result, Max has become a surly, rebellious, free-range teenager — who could blame him? — and petty thief who is up to his last chance with the local Gardai (policeman).

 

Flora can’t even be bothered to remember or acknowledge Max’s birthday. When the realization dawns, she fishes a broken guitar from a refuse bin, pays to have it quickly refurbished, and presents it to Max. But it’s a day-late-dollar-short gesture that the boy understandably dismisses with a sniff.

 

At this point, the subtlety of Hewson’s performance begins to shine. (About time, we think gratefully.) When Max is out of range, Flora displays genuine shame and regret; we realize that part of her anger is directed inward, over her inability to be a better mother. She’s dismayed because she never had the chance to learn how.

 

Against all odds, she becomes sympathetic. She also takes a metaphorical breath and slows down.

Wild Mountain Thyme: A charming romantic fable

Wild Mountain Thyme (2020) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, and needlessly, for "suggestive content"

By Derrick Bang 

Lovers of British whimsy likely will embrace this leisurely romantic comedy — available via video-on-demand — which takes an Irish approach to the conventional formula.

 

Rosemary (Emily Blunt) has loved Anthony (Jamie Dornan) ever since they were 10 years
old. Now in their mid-30s, with so much time already behind them, she wonders if he'll
ever be brave enough to ask her hand in marriage.

Given the Irish setting and poetic spirit, writer/director John Patrick Shanley’s gentle little fable — which he adapted from his 2014 Broadway play, Outside Mullingar — naturally involves an element of loss, and is fueled by the beloved, melancholy Celtic folk song that gives his film its title.

 

The mood is established immediately by off-camera narrator Tony Reilly (Christopher Walken), who explains — as cinematographer Stephen Goldblatt’s camera swoops above the wild, amazingly green, stunningly gorgeous Irish countryside — “They say, if an Irishman dies while he’s telling a story, you can rest assured, he’ll be back.”

 

Seriously, how can you resist an opening like that?

 

Anthony Reilly (Jamie Dornan) and Rosemary Muldoon (Emily Blunt) have lived on neighboring farms their entire lives, and she has loved him unreservedly since they were 10 years old. Everybody in their closely knit farming community knows they’re meant for each other … except Anthony.

 

He’s an eccentric, tongue-tied introvert who — fearing that he’s “tetched” — believes himself unlovable. He steadfastly works the family farm, having taken over all chores and responsibilities from his aging father Tony, who nonetheless irascibly grumbles that his son “doesn’t have what it takes.”

 

To a significant degree, Tony is nettled by Anthony’s unwillingness to get on with it, and marry Rosemary, fercryinoutloud. She, in turn — her feisty, independent nature notwithstanding — patiently waits for Anthony to come to his senses. (“Romeo’s not able to climb the balcony,” Shanley muses, in the press notes, “and Juliet won’t come down.”)

 

Tony also grouses about the fact that their farm is blocked by two gates that enclose a little strip of road owned by the Muldoons: which is to say, it’s necessary to open and close those gates every time one enters or leaves the Reilly farm. 

 

The death of Rosemary’s father Chris — who spent his entire life “at war with the crows” — proves a catalyst of sorts. Rosemary’s mother Aoife (Dearbhla Molloy) is bereft, and Tony senses that his own time on Earth is drawing to a close. Something needs to be done, and so he makes a decision that dismays everybody: He announces his intention to sell the family farm to his American nephew, Adam (Jon Hamm).