Based on a memoir by Amy Liptrot about addiction and recovery, Saoirse Ronan delivers a touching and powerful performance as Rona, a young woman returning home to the Orkney Islands of Scotland attempting to restore her life. Unfortunately for Ronan (and Rona), the film that surrounds her, The Outrun, struggles at times to keep pace.
Nora Fingscheidt's film shuttles back and forth between Rona's present in which she attends meetings, meditates and rekindles her career, and the 10 years spent in London partying and building a reliance on alcohol. We see Rona's personal relationships, particularly with her family and a romantic relationship with Daynin (Paapa Essiedu), deteriorate parallel to her trying to rebuild those same relationships. The dual storyline does a sufficient job at showing and not telling Rona's journey, but, at times, it feels like an empty exercise that lacks the poignancy intended. To be clear, this is not at the fault of the performances.
Addiction can be difficult to portray on screen, as the whims and self-sabotage can feel foreign, with some audience members only relating on a superficial level, and others feeling a deeper connection. Ronan as Rona continues to build her filmography choosing strong roles that challenge and expand her abilities as an actress, a challenge she readily takes up. Within Rona exists a deep sorrow and hollowness that fights against her naturally sunny disposition, and she seems driven by a curious nature and desire to see the world become a better place. It's an interesting push and pull that forms a character who we feel compassion for, rather than hair-pulling frustration.
For those who can only understand Rona at an arm's length, Daynin becomes an alternative window into addiction. Essiedu isn't on screen for very long, but his performance strikes a resonate chord. It's through the subtle glances, the disappointing head drops and the hot tears of frustration that Essiedu make Rona's addiction wholly felt. The tremendous emotional depth he applies to Daynin gives voice and grace to the many people out there who had to walk away from someone they loved as this illness took over. Conversely, where The Outrun trips a bit is its inability to tie together a truly affecting film.
As individual components, The Outrun more than holds its own. Moments between Rona and Daynin, Rona and her parents, and even Rona battling it out with herself all offer thought-provoking insight into what it means to be an alcoholic, and what it means to want to manage it. But, in bringing all of these pieces together, rather than a weighty quilt to get us through the winter nights, The Outrun is more akin to a lumpy duvet.
Although the timeline jumps seem to be the obvious culprit, those are handled with crisp clarity. It's the rather sedate climax to the entire film that leave it feeling lacklustre — even though this is probably more accurate to what life as a recovering alcoholic is actually like. And while I'm all for slow-burn meditations that make quiet yet significant observations on life, something needs to ground those deep thoughts, and with The Outrun, I'm just grasping at loose threads and two stunning performances.