THE OUTRUN - Mark Reviews Movies

The Outrun, Sony Pictures Classics

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | October 3, 2024

The story of The Outrun, an adaptation of Amy Liptrot's memoir, is a simple one: A woman returns home to her family farm after years of life in the big city. Co-writer/director Nora Fingscheidt, though, presents that tale as a winding and weaving narrative of seemingly random thoughts and more pertinent memories, as Rona (Saoirse Ronan) grapples with alcoholism, recovery, her regrets, and her sometimes-trying relationships with her parents. The movie jumps back and forth in time, from one focal point to another, and across a span of ideas. At a certain point, it feels as if the movie loses its main character in the process.

To be clear, Rona is always at the center of this movie, but the screenplay by Liptrot and Fingscheidt juggles so much that she seems a blur amidst the multiple threads, characters, and themes of this narrative. At times, that's appropriate, since Rona's time in London has become something of a blur for her, but this definitely seems to be a case in which a more straightforward approach might have resulted in a stronger story and sense of character.

We're introduced to Rona in the middle of a night of drunken partying, as she dances in a club without a care in the world, that descends into an after-hours of desperation and peril. Wandering the streets after dancing, Rona finds herself in a bar at closing time, and since she can't order anything, she just starts drinking from stray, unfinished glasses throughout the pub. When she's physically removed from the establishment, Rona accepts a ride from a complete stranger, and the next day, she's in the hospital with a massive bruise on her face.

From there, the story jumps forward in time, finding Rona living on the farm on the Orkney Islands where she grew up and where her father Andrew (Stephen Dillane) still tends sheep. Time passes against the stillness of the camper where Rona's staying, and an on-screen title shows days moving forward—days of sobriety for the woman. Whatever happened that night was a wake-up call for Rona, and away from the city and with the support of her divorced parents, she might be able to go another day without a drink—and another and another.

That's the basic outline of at least the movie's present-tense narrative, which also reveals that Rona's mother Annie (Saskia Reeves) is a born-again Christian and Andrew struggles with bipolar disorder. Both of the parents want what's best for their daughter, but Annie has a tendency to bring religion into it and to gossip with friends in her church group, while Andrew has episodes of depression that keep him in bed for days at a time.

These details, perhaps, help to explain Rona's past and, potentially, future escapes by way of alcohol, which she explains, during one of many sidenotes in the form of narration, had become a form of self-medication for her. Life with her parents could be difficult, with some memories still haunting her. In London, she might have had friends and a loving boyfriend in Daynin (Paapa Essiedu), but she also had a post-graduate degree that only led to an unsatisfying job in a lab.

That part of the story unfolds in flashbacks, showing us Rona becoming dependent on alcohol, going out every night and hiding a bottle behind the toilet, and her relationship with Daynin collapsing on account of repeated, broken promises that the previous regret-filled night would be the last. Does this structure reflect Rona's current state of mind, as the temptation to drink continues on the farm on those islands off the coast of Scotland, or is it simply for our benefit, in order to see how far she has come and why giving into the temptation could be so disastrous for Rona?

It's never entirely clear, and maybe that's part of the reason Rona feels more like a figure in a story than a character driving her own. As is usual for the actor, Ronan is very good in the role, playing those scenes from the past without inhibitions, as well as a false sense of joy, and those in the present with a degree of serenity that's always prone to frustration, boredom, and a random desire to drink again. Rona tries to keep herself—her mind and body—occupied by working the farm, spending time with her mother, and volunteering for the conservation efforts of a rare bird in the middle of the night. Her efforts work for the most part, but the feeling of the need for a drink pops up without warning.

We know because of Ronan's performance and because Rona's narration tells as much—as well as a lot of other things. We get history lessons about the Orkneys, details of local folklore, trivia about how wind was once practically measured, and other information that feels more like a distraction from the simplicity of the narrative than anything about Rona.

Those interludes are informative, although it's difficult to say they tell us much about Rona's struggles or anything pertinent to her story. They also add to the sense that The Outrun keeps this character, her reasons for drinking, her battle with addiction, and what she wants from sobriety and, in general, life at a distance. This is a fine, comprehensible, and sympathetic story. It's just not a particularly compelling one.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products

Buy the Book

Buy the Book (Kindle Edition)