Saoirse Ronan is revelation in the sobering ‘Outrun’
The Scottish folktale of the selkie is woven throughout “The Outrun,” a haunting story of a young Orcadian woman’s battle to wrest control of her life from the demons of alcohol. Unlike the selkie, a gentle sea creature that can shapeshift between seal and human form, Saoirse Ronan’s Rona has developed a much darker power – fueled by booze – to transform from human to monster.
It happens every time she’s under the influence, making her metaphorically akin to the selkie, which removes its skin on nights when it comes ashore to party hearty. According to legend, if during this revelry, the selkie’s pelt is stolen by a mortal, it can no longer return to the depths, losing all sovereignty over its body. Boy, can Rona relate, as evidenced by a chaotic succession of nonlinear flashbacks depicting her fall from brilliant biology student to passed-out in-the-gutter alcoholic with no easy way home.
It’s not until she’s nearly raped while completely blotto that she resolves to reclaim her life by returning to her childhood home, appropriately located at “the end of the world” in the Orkney Islands. Not that her time there is any less stressful than the past decade spent living in London apart from her bipolar father (Stephen Dillane) and Bible-thumping mother (Saskia Reeves), who will move heaven and earth to convince Rona to accept Jesus as her savior. Not gonna happen. Nor is sobriety, at least not at first.
Affectingly recounting Rona’s escapes from this self-imposed purgatory is the objective of director Nora Fingscheidt in her adaption of a memoir by Amy Liptrot, who herself overcame alcohol addiction. Primarily incorporating content from Liptrot’s book, the script by Fingscheidt and Liptrot doesn’t shy away from the self-abasing behavior common to most alcohol abusers: the loud, obnoxious outbursts; the lies and deceptions; and the destruction of intimacy and trust, particularly as it pertains to Rona’s adoring boyfriend, Daynin (a compassionate Paapa Essiedu).
True, much of this has been portrayed dozens of times before. But what distinguishes “The Outrun” are its gorgeous Orkney locations, resplendently shot by Yunus Roy Imer, and the no-holds-barred performance by Ronan as Rona. It’s a character study of such range and depth that it seems to transcend mere acting. From the first shocking scene where Rona tosses back every leftover drink from bottle and glass in a closed pub, Ronan is fully immersed in the role.
The sense of realism is as off the charts as Rona is off the rails. There’s no place Ronan is unwilling to go in affirming the severity of Rona’s self-destruction. At times, it’s almost too painful to watch, yet you can’t look away because Ronan never loses touch with Rona’s humanity. And it’s that command that elevates a familiar account of addiction to something uniquely impactful.
So why, you wonder, would Fingscheidt risk undermining Ronan’s Oscar-worthy performance with this misguided technique of randomly jumping from one period to another in chronicling Rona’s decline? Granted, the flashbacks in general are informative and revealing, but why not structure them chronologically? I get that Fingscheidt is attempting to analogize the chaos that was Rona’s life at the bottom of a bottle, but it too often leaves you confused. Fingscheidt does offer hints as to where we are on Rona’s timeline via her evolving hair color: from teal to platinum blonde with teal tips, to all platinum blonde and finally brassy red. But why make us work so hard keeping track?
I did admire the stark contrast Fingscheidt draws between Rona’s decadent years in London and her fraught internal struggle in the Orkneys, where – to her surprise – a gig with the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds offers more inspiration than dozens of AA meetings. Charged with monitoring the island’s native corn crake, Rona discovers a kinship with the perilous birds and their endangered status. It’s quite moving, not to mention lovely given these scenes unfold in what must be some of the most breathtaking settings on the planet.
The jagged cliffs, fierce gales and barren shores naturally intermingle with all that is swirling inside of Rona as she tentatively navigates the strengthening winds of change. Standing between the nexus of the tumultuous sea and the towering, rocky coast, she realizes something must give. “Waves can only maintain their height for so long before they come crashing down,” she observes in voiceover. An apt metaphor, and one that Rona absorbs as her darkness yields to light. And once again – like the selkie – she finds herself blissfully back in her own skin, at one with the sea.
Movie review
The Outrun
Rated: For brief sexuality, language
Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Stephen Dillane, Paapa Essiedu and Saskia Reeves
Director: Nora Fingscheidt
Writers: Nora Fingsheidt and Amy Liptrot
Runtime: 118 minutes
Where: In theaters Oct. 4
Grade: B
