“The Outrun” is an ode to restoration and the power of nature
There has been a lot of talk lately about “Irish dominance” in the film industry. Over the past two years, Colin Farrell, Barry Keoghan, Paul Mescal and Cillian Murphy have oligopolized both the big screen and social media memes in a dozen star-studded blockbusters (Oppenheimer) and indie hits (Saltburn) the same. These four men (and Brandon Gleason) were nominated for Academy Awards in either 2023 or 2024, cementing the Celts’ status as the hottest talent in Tinseltown. And that’s not to mention Andrew Scott, who gives the West End’s most awarded performance in 2023. Vania and crushed our hearts with the magnificent We are all strangers with Mescal (for the latter he also received a number of awards, but did not receive an Oscar nomination).
It’s 2024, but Irish dominance continues to rise as Saoirse Ronan returns to the spotlight in another surprisingly sensitive and emotionally charged role. One of the world’s most celebrated young actresses, the 29-year-old actress sparked awards buzz following Joe Wright’s 2007 drama. Redemptionand is now a heavy industry capable of producing independently. As indecent as it may be to judge an artist’s worth by hype, star power came in handy in this case: without the participation of Ronan and (her partner) Jack Lowden, Outran“The dark but striking narrative of trauma and addiction may never have reached a wider audience.
Director: Nora Fingscheidt (Germany).Unforgivable), Outran is a fictionalized account of Scottish journalist and writer Amy Liptrot’s 2016 memoir. A harrowing yet hopeful story of substance abuse and one young woman’s search for meaning in a life of chaos. The book follows its protagonist from Orkney to London and back as she overcomes lingering traumas and relapses, and in the process, rediscovers her humanity and the world through nature. Wildly imaginative and deeply aggressive, Liptrot’s book deftly combines long internal monologues with a worldview encapsulated in magical realism, fascinated by the power of nature.
This little storytelling gem works on paper, but it’s hard to translate to the big screen, with its zealous focus on one man and all the trappings and annoyances that come with gripping drama. Beautifully acted but emotionally empty films, such as Felix van Groningen’s film. a handsome boy and Sam Taylor-Johnson A million little pieces (both based on memoirs) seem to highlight how difficult it is to get the message right in this genre. Without falling into comforting, condescending sentimentality, stories about addiction are challenging and even exhausting to watch. Melodrama or anything else, these narratives usually need an actor like Timothée Chalamet or Aaron Taylor-Johnson to even finish. We’re in luck this time because Ronan joined Lowden’s Arcade Pictures in 2021 specifically to get Outran the film has been filmed. It didn’t hurt that the story itself is nothing short of magical.
Outran The memoir opens with a meticulous map of the Orkney archipelago and the story of a man with bipolar disorder who was airlifted to Aberdeen on the night his daughter was born. Just a page away, a grown daughter washed ashore from London and returned to her farm reflects on the windswept topography, the daily tedium of rural life, her childhood on the islands and Orcadian mythology. A time-hopping maelstrom of suffering and dreams under the guise of naturalistic pantheism also opens the film.
In a ten-minute montage as chaotic as the seismic activity of the islands (possibly caused by the enormous Mester Stur worm), the main character, 29-year-old Rona, is introduced through dreamy, quasi-metaphysical voiceover. Whimsical animations of Orkney’s rich folklore coupled with spastic images of her belligerent drinking and dangerous escapades in London plumb the very depths of Rhone’s unstable psyche. Thus, an already deeply personal opinion becomes intimate. For better or worse, we’re stuck inside Rhona’s troubled but seemingly endlessly creative mind for the duration of the 118-minute film.
Free from the traditional plot, but firmly rooted in the Rhone worldview. Outran plays out like a kaleidoscope of disparate vignettes, held together by their impact on the Rhône. There are her memories of the amazement of big city nightlife, of too-long, throbbing, drunken, embarrassing nights, of some good times, mostly overshadowed by alarmingly bad ones. Drunkenness, endless drunkenness. The tender beginning of the love relationship with Dinin (the stoically great Paapa Essiedu), its difficulties when Rona cannot get through the day sober, and its painful end after one too many drunken outbursts. In her desperate attempts to recover amid countless relapses and a fall into the abyss that is as cruel as it is typical.
These immediate consequences of addiction are only one side of a three-part story. On the other side of Albion, among the windswept plains of Orkney, Rhone returns home from the blight of chaos in the metropolis, and the contrast could hardly be more obvious. After picking herself up through a long (voluntary) stint in rehab, Shakili becomes obsessed with maintaining her balance, aided by her familiarity with the sparse islands and her interest in the environment. However, it should come as no surprise that home is the most difficult place to navigate. Rona’s born-again Christian mother, Annie (a solidly grounded Saskia Reeves), clashes with her daughter over her every choice, while her bipolar father Andrew (a touching Stephen Dillane) must first protect his fragile identity.
Annie and Andrew separated; Rhona stays with her mother, but spends most of her time on the farm, where her father lives in a van, having been forced to sell the family home. There she helps with the sheep, delivers lambs, looks after the feed and tries to reconnect with Andrew, who is constantly in danger of experiencing another episode. The muted but palpable grief of Rhona’s parents proves to be a potential source of the young woman’s wounds, but none of the three seem able to articulate their own sorrows.
However, not everything is so gloomy. As flawed as Annie and Andrew are, they love their daughter passionately and want the best for her. The complex relationship between Rona and her ancestors may provide the emotional support that will help her get back to life, wherever she may be. It’s inspiring to see this Outran doesn’t fall prey to a completely toxic family dynamic, which is an (o)easy way for a lot of these types of works to score sympathy points. There are honest, suffering people here who want peace for themselves and their families and live day by day as best they can.
OutranA fable of acceptance and healing would not be complete without a third overarching theme: nature. An avid animist, raised in a remote environment and dependent on agriculture and folkloric ideas for subsistence, Rona studied biology in London, maintaining her fascination with the Earth and its many creatures. In Orkney, she takes a job exploring the islands in search of endangered corncrakes. Mostly tedious, the undertaking becomes a revelation for Rhona, who contemplatively reflects on her intended goal of mapping small pieces of the universe, and with them, her own psyche.
Her many playful, almost frantic musings about the dragon that gave birth to the islands, or her body merging symbiotically with selkies and blades of grass, becoming a force for herself, providing comfort and continuity on both sides of the screen. Liminal constant anime world both grounding and transformative for the Rhone, who grows outward and inward with the help of nature.
In one of the first great performances of 2024, Saoirse Ronan (who had been offered the role by Lowden) imbues the young Orcadian with such raw, raw emotion that at times you forget you’re watching a feature film. Known for the breadth and nuance of her work, the Irishwoman weaves this story through pure instinct, elevating her anti-heroine—flaws and all—above the status of “character.” Reckless and hurt, but yearning for love and acceptance (of herself), Rona remains deeply entertaining even in her most unfathomably cruel moments.
By making the protagonist definitively human, Saoirse Ronan, supported by Fingscheidt’s nervous, semi-documentary cinematography, relentlessly tugs at the audience’s most visceral feelings. The disparate vignettes work because in each one you see a microcosm within the grand scheme of life. No matter your circumstances or even your personality, chances are you’ll see pieces of yourself in the pathetic drunk who gets kicked out of the bar, the unstable girl hitting on her partner, or the dejected daughter who refuses her mother’s outdated methods of comforting her. The bond you form with Rona is a result of Ronan’s immense talent and the insightful, unsentimental material of Lipton and Fingscheidt (co-writers), who effectively wring universality out of personal plight.
Despite avoiding numerous trappings of the genre, Outran Not everyone will like it. Much of Rona’s circling of the drain is repetitive and familiar, and does not lead to an epiphany. Her transformation, although hard-earned, may remain conceptually out of reach for some. The outstanding work of the creative team and the wonderful thematization of man’s connection to the natural world cannot deny that we inevitably end up with a voyeuristic look at a private fall from grace, meaningful or not.
One might rightly ask oneself, then, what purpose addiction dramas serve other than to evoke shock or pity. When done correctly, the answer is simple: they tell everyone who needs to see that even the biggest challenges can be overcome and that life can go on and thrive despite trauma. Outran This is a rare and effective film about addiction with a powerful, yet simple message: if you continue to approach the world with curiosity and awe, you will open the door to loving yourself as part of it all.