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.
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| 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’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.
A chance visit to a club offering a stage for amateur musicians arouses her interest. She has the guitar; if Max won’t bond with it, perhaps she can. She therefore begins a search for an online tutor: an amusing montage that concludes when she finds the Los Angeles-based Jeff (Joseph Gordon-Levitt).
His laid-back charm can’t disguise his wariness, upon discovering that Flora has no experience whatsoever. He then surprises her by asking why she wants to learn. Despite being unable to articulate an appropriate response — and unwilling to share something so personal with a total stranger, even if she could — Jeff nonetheless senses something genuine in her desire.
In truth, Flora likely has embraced this project for one or more wrong reasons: perhaps to rekindle the fire with her ex, Ian (Jack Reynor), also an aspiring musician; or perhaps to make herself more attractive to a better class of guys, than the ones who never look beyond her sexy little figure.
Sometimes, though, starting something with questionable motives works out for the best.
Flora soon can’t help being captivated by the passion Jeff has for music, and his ability to convey the effect it can have on people, and the awe he reserves for truly powerful songs (“a three-and-a-half minute pause in time,” he says).
By way of demonstration, he plays her a gentle, soulful cover of Hoagy Carmichael’s “I Get Along Without You Very Well (Except Sometimes).”
She’s blown away.
So are we; Gordon-Levitt’s delivery is sweetly awesome. He’s equally adept at singing and acting; his Jeff radiates equal parts charm, sincerity and sensitivity. He recognizes that Flora is vulnerable, and that one wrong move could shatter her effort to remake herself.
And on the rare occasions that his California ’tude becomes a little too obvious, she’s quick to cheekily dial him back: “You’re teachin’ guitar online, luv.”
Thus begins a long-distance relationship that soon morphs from teacher/student to mutual friendship: something Flora desperately needs. (Long-time bestie Kathy, played by Marcella Plunkett, can’t fill this void in quite the same way.)
And, in a charming directorial flourish, these teaching sessions soon become so real for Flora, that she imagines Jeff is in the same room with her, rather than just on a laptop screen. This is what we see, as well; it’s poignant beyond words.
As Flora becomes a better version of herself, she also becomes a better parent. Whether this will be enough, ultimately, to punch through Max’s self-defensive armor, is another matter.
Carney draws a thoroughly convincing performance from young Kinlan, a big-screen newcomer whose portrayal of Max is heartbreaking. Although often little more than sullen and stand-offish, Kinlan’s gaze also displays disappointment and anguish; his posture is slumped and defeated. Despite her many shortcomings, Flora still represents his best shot at an actual parent; it’s not as if Ian is somebody upon whom to pin his hopes.
(Carney clearly has a talent for mentoring first-time actors; consider the sensitively nuanced work he drew from Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, in Once.)
Production designer Ashleigh Jeffers establishes a firm sense of time and place — I particularly like the layout of Flora’s flat, and rooftop aerie — and cinematographer John Conroy makes excellent use of Dublin’s colorful locales.
Carney’s first act is a rough ride, also because the working-class Irish accents are almost impenetrable. But be patient; the tone shifts into more pleasant territory during the second act, and by the finale you’ll likely want to watch the film all over again.
Which, unsurprisingly, also was the case with Carney’s three aforementioned charmers.
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