Film Review: Brooklyn

"Homesickness Is Like Most Sicknesses, It Will Pass..."

Within the midst of spies, dystopian uprisings, and that gangster crime-lord caper with that guy from those pirate flicks in, all of which are set to hit or possibly miss within cinemas across the country over this week and the next, has been Brooklyn, a film so meagerly advertised and highlighted within both cinemas and TV spots, that such a distinct change from the rather familiar fashion of the many propaganda-esque ways in which certain flicks force themselves on audiences today, suggests a rather distinct lack of faith on the film's standing against its' cinematic rivals, most of which are either worn-out sequels or money-making blockbusters. Yet for the case of Brooklyn, a film which on the face of it seems rather low-key and inherently straightforward, it manages to encapsulate something that most of it cinematic contemporaries fail to grasp; a deep sense of heart and soul, powered fundamentally by a simply mesmerising performance by Saoirse Ronan, an actress who already sits high in pedigree in my own eyes but excels herself in one of the best dramas of the year so far.

When young Ellis Lacey (Ronan) leaves her homeland of Ireland for Brooklyn, US of A, for purposes not only focused on that of a career path but a fundamental change of scenery, she quickly falls for Italian-American Tony Fiorello who helps Ellis recover from her severe strain of homesickness away from both her mother and sister. Settling strongly into her new way of life, Ellis soon hears of tragedy from her homeland, forcing her to return back to Ireland where she soon realises there more have been more to life back home after all, resulting in Ellis making a hard choice regarding whether to stay in her beloved home of Ireland or return to her newly found way of life and love for Tony and the city of Brooklyn. What makes Brooklyn so magical is that within all its' straightforwardness in terms of its' plot and story-line, is a straight-faced way in which the film attempts to tell a tale without need for an over-zealous use of dramatic set-pieces or particular scenes that can be singled out as possible key scenes or memorable moments of magic. Instead, Brooklyn chooses to play out its' tale of romance, alienation and choice in rather low-key fashion, something of which differentiates itself from most of its' cinematic contemporaries in which action and epicness comes first whilst plot and characterisation comes second.

At the heart of Brooklyn is a truly spell-bounding performance from Saoirse Ronan, an actress who has impressed me in all of her back catalogue in which I have seen so far, with last year's The Grand Budapest Hotel being the standout Ronan role so far alongside acting pedigree such as Ralph Fiennes, Willem Defoe and Bill Murray, yet Brooklyn is a true testament to her acting abilities and skills, with her emotional range well and truly being tested in a role that if gone to someone else, may have resulted in a film that may have not been as engaging as it is with Ronan in the lead role. Maybe it's just that Irish accent that results in a strange sense of affection for her, but Brooklyn, if anything, is the annual example of a low-key film being that good that to not be noticed from some sort of awarding body would be criminal, not that such an award would particularly matter in any sense with Brooklyn being a fundamentally wonderful movie, but to be recognised by the highest honours out there would be a testament to the film's overall greatness. In the mood for overblown action, messy plot lines and lack of characterisation? Go watch The Hunger Games. In the mood for a downright damn good drama? Seek out Brooklyn, it's really that good. 

Overall Score: 9/10

Film Review: Song of the Sea

A Seaside Rendezvous

With every passing year, the wide range of ingenious minds behind the art that is animation seem to be getting better and better with Tomm Moore's Song of the Sea a prime example of the boundaries to which the animated feature can be explored upon and to what extent the endless opportunities such a genre of film can be used to create something simply beautiful to behold. In a time where "popcorn cinema" is seemingly taking the big bucks with the endless cycle of brainless, un-imaginative bore-fests, what a sheer pleasure it was to behold and admire Song of the Sea, a gorgeous, traditionally animated masterpiece that not only triggered a wide range of emotions inside, but left me with a sense of blissfulness that encapsulated to the full, the five year old child inside me.

After suffering the loss of both a mother and wife during childbirth, father Conor (Brendan Gleeson) and son Ben (David Rawle) are left to raise their seemingly mute new sibling Saoirse (Lucy O'Connell) within the confines of their lighthouse along with family pet Cu. After years of solitude, Conor's mother forces the children to move with her into the city, leaving the lighthouse, the sea, their father and Cu for good in order to build a new life in the suburbs, much to the sadness of both brother and sister who quickly decide to find their way back to the one place they feel they belong. On their journey back home however, Ben becomes wary of his sister's new-found abilities to not only communicate with creatures of folklore and legend, but to possibly be that of a Selkie, a mythical creature derived from the ocean and that of a seal, leading to an adventure of a lifetime with an overall goal to return home to their father once again.

In my review of The Tale of the Princess Kaguya,  I noted that each and every frame could easily be frozen and presented as a work of art in its' own right, something of which can be said of Song of the Sea, a film that not only has layers upon layers of magical and mystical imagery in almost every scene, but has clearly taken the time to add the smaller and minute details that make its' sense of wonder even greater, even if they aren't that important in the context of the film. Many times I simply pointed at the screen in awe of its' beauty and sheer charm, whether it be the image of buried, sleeping animals in the ground, or the mosaic-esque design of the woodland where we are treated to an almost x-ray vision of our character's surroundings. Along with the overall design of the film, the writers' brilliant imagination encompassed the underlying mystical traits of the film, with the scene in which we are introduced to the Owl Witch/Macha in particular being one of the many examples in which all the positive elements of the film came together in expertly fashion. 

When it comes to the many positive elements of Song of the Sea, I could seriously and willingly go on all day about them as there is so much to love and so much to take away, with the film concluding with scenes that will most definitely want to make you grab for the nearest tissue box, even if you are too stubborn to admit it. If a film like Song of the Sea was released every week into a global audience, I strongly believe the world will be a much better place, but with its' limited availability in UK cinemas, it's a sure possibility that it may go under the radar, a sad fact to take in, yet if you do manage to find the chance to watch Song of the Sea, please do, as Tomm Moore's animated masterpiece is a film that pulls on the heartstrings, embraces the magical, mystical elements of Irish folklore to the fullest and leaves you with a genuine feeling to experience it all again, a recipe for success if ever there was one. 

Overall Score: 10/10