Dir. John Carney, 2006
There are approximately two varieties of guys who seem perennially attached to scrappy acoustic guitars, writing and singing their songs to whomever will listen. The first kind of guy is a schmaltzy faker. He breaths calculated whines and pompous odes while taking sly glances out from under effortlessly mussed bangs, checking to make sure he’s impressing mush-headed teenagers and other simpletons. The second kind of guy, though, combines humility, enthusiasm, and faith in the spare means of his craft and ability to move us in unexpected ways. If the second kind of guy were a movie-musical, he would be Once.
Once avoids becoming a pretentious clunker (read: most modern musicals) thanks to the narrowness of its scope. Once is the story of a guy, a girl, and a guitar, and it does well to never stray from their small, simple drama. Meanwhile, its music is not the flash and glitz of Hollywood productions, but the graceful soundtrack of its characters’ lives.
The film’s leads (who are never named, but listed in the credits as simply “Guy” and “Girl”) are played by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. The two meet on the Dublin streets. Here, Hansard, an amateur musician-cum-vacuum repairman, performs his brand of folky and earnest pop songs, and Czech immigrant Irglova sells flowers to support her daughter and mother. The two unite around a love of music and a shared sense of loneliness. They form a relationship, which Carney is careful to keep from devolving into simple romance, but which is full of tender empathy tempered by bitter-sweet impermanence.
The ability of modern musicals to either fly or fall flat often hinges on the question of how they incorporate their songs into the non-musical life of the film. Once’s modest and efficient style of realism is never compromised by concessions to artificial spontaneity of song or dance. Instead, the music develops naturally out of the movie’s narrative and through the effort and love of its characters, growing from a sweet, escapist balm for melancholy to the harmony of the chance concurrence of two souls.
I have to believe that, in part, the tone of intimacy Once achieves comes from the deep level of trust and collaboration that must have gone into its production. Carney chose to cast musicians, and not professional actors for his leads. By yielding a degree of directorial control, and allowing Hansard and Irglova to perform their own compositions, Carney adds immensely to the authenticity of the film. These are real people whose partnership and sincerity are palpable in their performances. My one and only problem with the pair is that Hansard’s fierce Celtic features threaten to efface Irglova’s spry but slight screen presence; however, Carney works with this effect to imbue her character with a sense of poignant transience.
All too many films exploit music as a cheap tool to add texture or garner an easy emotional response.Quite the opposite, Once richens its songs with its subtle reserve of images and moods. This is a movie to be seen, heard, and felt, probably much more than once.
There are approximately two varieties of guys who seem perennially attached to scrappy acoustic guitars, writing and singing their songs to whomever will listen. The first kind of guy is a schmaltzy faker. He breaths calculated whines and pompous odes while taking sly glances out from under effortlessly mussed bangs, checking to make sure he’s impressing mush-headed teenagers and other simpletons. The second kind of guy, though, combines humility, enthusiasm, and faith in the spare means of his craft and ability to move us in unexpected ways. If the second kind of guy were a movie-musical, he would be Once.
Once avoids becoming a pretentious clunker (read: most modern musicals) thanks to the narrowness of its scope. Once is the story of a guy, a girl, and a guitar, and it does well to never stray from their small, simple drama. Meanwhile, its music is not the flash and glitz of Hollywood productions, but the graceful soundtrack of its characters’ lives.
The film’s leads (who are never named, but listed in the credits as simply “Guy” and “Girl”) are played by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. The two meet on the Dublin streets. Here, Hansard, an amateur musician-cum-vacuum repairman, performs his brand of folky and earnest pop songs, and Czech immigrant Irglova sells flowers to support her daughter and mother. The two unite around a love of music and a shared sense of loneliness. They form a relationship, which Carney is careful to keep from devolving into simple romance, but which is full of tender empathy tempered by bitter-sweet impermanence.
The ability of modern musicals to either fly or fall flat often hinges on the question of how they incorporate their songs into the non-musical life of the film. Once’s modest and efficient style of realism is never compromised by concessions to artificial spontaneity of song or dance. Instead, the music develops naturally out of the movie’s narrative and through the effort and love of its characters, growing from a sweet, escapist balm for melancholy to the harmony of the chance concurrence of two souls.
I have to believe that, in part, the tone of intimacy Once achieves comes from the deep level of trust and collaboration that must have gone into its production. Carney chose to cast musicians, and not professional actors for his leads. By yielding a degree of directorial control, and allowing Hansard and Irglova to perform their own compositions, Carney adds immensely to the authenticity of the film. These are real people whose partnership and sincerity are palpable in their performances. My one and only problem with the pair is that Hansard’s fierce Celtic features threaten to efface Irglova’s spry but slight screen presence; however, Carney works with this effect to imbue her character with a sense of poignant transience.
All too many films exploit music as a cheap tool to add texture or garner an easy emotional response.Quite the opposite, Once richens its songs with its subtle reserve of images and moods. This is a movie to be seen, heard, and felt, probably much more than once.
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