Directing: A
Acting: A
Writing: A-
Cinematography: A-
Editing: A-

How The Outrun hits may depend largely on your relationship to alcoholism: if you are or have been close to an alcoholic, or perhaps if you are one yourself. I don’t have a lot of direct exposure to the worst effects of the disease of this particular addiction, and still there are lines that feel a bit obvious when taken out of context, but are deeply heartbreaking when uttered in this film. It will be some time before I forget Rona (Saoirse Ronan) saying, “I can’t be happy sober.”

Rona is a woman in her late twenties, to whom we are introduced as a pretty sloppy drunk, downing the leftover booze in other people’s glasses at closing time in a London pub. After she’s thrown out onto the sidewalk, a man in a car pulls up and offers her a ride. We know this is ominous, but don’t know exactly how until we return to flashback later.

This is a big part of what makes The Outrun work, how it stands as an exceptional film even among countless others about alcoholism. The narrative jumps back and forth in time, to seemingly random points in Rona’s life—a lot of them flashbacks during her extended stay in rehab. That opening scene notwithstanding, it is well into the runtime of the film before we get a truly clear picture of the depths Rona’s life sinks to. It’s the kind of thing that suggests “rock bottom” has its own set of tiered levels.

Rona is from the Orkney Islands, a deeply remote archipelago off the northern tip of Scotland. Her long-divorced parents still live there: Andrew (Stephen Dillane), whose long history of mental illness still has him vacillating between manic and depressive episodes; and Annie (Saskia Reeves), who has found solace in religion. Rona helps Andrew on his sheep farm, but still faces temptations, which she runs from by moving to ever-more remote islands in the region. She seems to be trying, in vain, to find a place to settle where there is no alcohol near her. She finds a job on a further-out island, and when she visits the local grocer, the wall behind the checkout counter is fully stocked with wine and liquor.

This environment provides a uniquely beautiful backdrop to the story: rocky shores and cliffs, hilly fields of green grass, islands seen through fog and rain and wind. It also has a personal connection for Rona, as this is her home, and does not offer the same smorgasbord of temptations that London did. Or so it seems at first, anyway. We also witness the rise and fall of her relationship with boyfriend Daynin (Paapa Essiedu), in snippets, entirely in flashbacks.

Eventually Rona meets an older man who recognizes in her a fellow sober person. He’s got over twelve years. She asks him, “Does it ever get easier?” He replies: “Yes. But it doesn’t ever get easy. It just gets less hard.” It may seem on the surface like small comfort, but it’s something for her to hold onto. This is the essence of The Outrun, really.

This is the kind of movie where it’s impossible to predict whether Rona, a deeply messy young woman we can’t help but root for thanks to Saoirse Ronan’s stupendous performance, will find happiness, or indeed even stay sober. Director and co-writer Nora Fingscheidt brings us to a conclusion that is a bit more ambiguous than it seems, until you think about it. Hope itself is not a promise, but it’s a great note to end on.

The more I think about The Outrun, the more impressed I am with it. Fingscheidt has created a nonlinear narrative that is easy to surrender to. Only once or twice did I find it hard to decipher where in time it was, but it also occurred to me that someone like Rona can easily get lost in time. I quickly cared deeply for her, to such an extent that when she was tempted by a forgotten wine glass in her dad’s home, it was like watching a horror movie: Don’t do it! But if The Outrun demonstrates anything, it is that sobriety is a process, more often than not with fits and starts. Rona learns in rehab that only ten percent of them make it through.

The Outrun also features some narrative flourishes that elevate its storytelling, not least of which is occasional voiceover narration by Rona, telling us about the myths and folklore of the islands, from how the land is formed to how the local seals (of which we see many) fit into the culture. There is also the subplot of a job Rona takes in which she recruits local farmers to participate in research on an endangered local bird. She spends a lot of time hoping to hear its specific bird call, which leaves us hoping to hear it eventually as well. There’s a connection to be made there, among many in this elegantly intricate story.

*An iconic performer of human imperfection.*

Overall: A-