The Outrun Review
Saoirse Ronan in The Outrun
A Sobriety Story Stuffed To the Brim
Stories of sobriety are a relatively consistent source of drama for the movie industry. This is no surprise, given the amount of change and struggle necessary to fight a continuous battle. Add to that, just about everyone has known someone who has dealt with the difficult disease of addiction. This doesn’t even include those who have struggled privately. And, of course, this disease is also a symptom of other issues, which can create a new set of problems for narrative filmmaking. Can a film include everything and come out unscathed? The Outrun, inspired by a memoir from Amy Liptrot attempts this exact precarious balancing act.
The film never completely succeeds at this arduous task, but it does have one distinct advantage: Saoirse Ronan. This review is certainly not breaking new ground by discussing her particular gifts. She is one of the foremost talents of her generation, but it is still good to see her not resting on her laurels or depending on big budget filmmaking or standard leading lady fare. She can certainly manage these kinds of roles, but she is clearly also willing to play characters that stretch her as an artist and can even make a viewer uncomfortable.
As Rona, she is in every scene, either visually or in voiceover, and the film is better for her presence, always. It is unfortunate that the film tries to do a little too much. Is this a story of sobriety? A tale of the genetic nature of mental illness? A lesson on protecting our environment? A movie about folktales? One might ask, why can’t it be all of these things? It certainly can, but it would take a nearly perfect script. More than once, I found myself wishing that the screenplay was tighter, that it was a simpler narrative. It is strangely reminiscent of a biopic, and you could argue that given its memoir roots, there are similarities.
The structure of the film is also mildly disorienting. Thankfully, director Nora Fingscheidt does us the favor of changing Rona’s hairstyle and color to notate when and where we are. Additionally, the movie is visually striking, even if there are a few too many shots of nature (expertly framed by cinematographer Yunus Roy Imer). All of these shots have a purpose, but it does sometimes feel repetitive. So many of the issues with The Outrun come down to limitations of the form. The repetition, the voiceover; it all points back to the written word. This all probably works perfectly in the form of the memoir, but in a film it tends to rankle and test your patience just slightly.
And yet, the material is definitely strong enough to allow the audience to push through those few moments. Ronan, especially in the flashback scenes when she was actively drinking, gives one of the most perfect portrayals of both the perils and the allure of the substance. Rona’s simple statement of “I can’t be happy sober” will ring frighteningly real for anyone who has struggled with sobriety. Despite her many mistakes and consequences, there is a part of her that enjoys the chaos. It is so much better than the anxiety of life.
Of course, that anxiety is not just normal everyday life. Her family has had more struggles than most and, luckily, the performances from her family are nearly on the level of Ronan, herself. Eventually, we learn that her father (Stephen Dillane) and her mother (Saskia Reeves) split long ago, mostly due to his Bipolar Disorder. Thankfully, the script, from Liptrot and Fingscheidt, never details the family mental illness connection bluntly, but we track it fairly easily. Rona’s calm talks with her father (possibly to protect him) and her rage at her mother (likely misplaced) tap into something important.
When people in our lives have problems, it is not always the direct route that leads to healing. Rona’s mother cannot simply reason her daughter into not drinking. Rona cannot talk her father into not suffering from a mental illness. If someone had told Rona that one of the steps in her sobriety would be driving from place to place listening for the squawk of an endangered bird, she wouldn’t believe that either. Our road to recovery, whatever our issue, is not a short trip, but rather a long and winding road.
