When an actor reaches a certain level of fame, their recognisability can sometimes prevent an audience from being truly immersed in a story. It may be the blinding artificiality of veneers in a period piece or even a pervasive perfume ad that's anchored an actor in your memory as a hired body. This is not the case for Saoirse Ronan. It's been 21 years since her acting debut, becoming a household name and a four-time Oscar nominee, yet in The Outrun she completely submerges herself in the struggling Rona. The only remnant is four letters of her name.
Based on Amy Liptrot's 2016 memoir, Nora Fingscheidt's third feature is an addiction drama that distinguishes itself through its emphasis on the therapeutic power of nature. Fresh out of rehab, biologist Rona returns home to the Orkney Islands, an archipelago off the north coast of Scotland. She uses the roaring waves and pounding techno beats to drown out painful echoes of the past. But her time in London continues to haunt her.
Memories resurface of taking secret slugs from bottles hidden beneath the sink and arriving home soaking wet after riding her bike into a canal. Feelings of shame and regret crash into her consciousness cyclically in quiet moments, while helping her bipolar father (Stephen Dillane) during the lambing season or when listening for the endangered corn crake's distinctive call. She craves isolation. Orkney's 70 islands, of which only 20 are inhabited, provide the respite she desires.
Ronan's emotionally colossal performance is both endearing and distressing to watch. Overstaying her welcome in a pub, Rona swings from slurring persuasion to volatile fury, the camera stumbling around her empathetically as she claws at her belongings strewn on the pavement. It's as if we are there with her, accomplices to her undoing.
Through flashbacks that are effectively signalled by vivid hair colours, Ronan convincingly portrays the conflicting need for community and the self-sabotaging desire to push people away. We squirm as she berates her mum (Saskia Reeves), whose support comes in a useless currency to Rona (prayers), and well-meaning friends whose concern is an unbearable intrusion.
Interspersed throughout the drama are excerpts of animation and archival clips soberly narrated by Rona. She recites Scottish folklore about Selkies (shapeshifting seals) and explains the science behind alcoholism. The contrast between these eloquent musings and her drunken debauchery heightens the tragedy of her struggle. We grieve her past self, the one unburdened by addiction, alongside her.
Cinematographer Yunus Roy Imer lavishly captures Orkney's landscapes, using these images to emphasise how crucial the connection to nature is for Rona's recovery. These shots are breathtaking, from aerial views of the grand formations of the coastline to the warmth of a torch brushing over sheep and field, a linear glow cutting through the night. The serene underwater sequences with the seals, as well as the scenes with Rona and her boyfriend (Paapa Essiedu), are particular visual highlights.
Roy's cinematography gives body to the internal. During a panic attack, the camera circles a frantic 360° around Rona's head, creating a physical and emotional intimacy with her. For 118 minutes, we are observers of her struggle, placed in the shoes of Rona's loved ones who try their best but are ultimately powerless. Staying sober is solely up to her.
That's why the ending of The Outrun feels so triumphant. Fingscheidt perfectly balances honesty with hope, drawing fresh connections between the clichéd truths of both addiction and the natural world. We've all heard the ‘one day at a time' mantra and been advised to get a ‘bit of air'. Yet the overuse of these phrases doesn't sour their validity. “It never gets easy, it just gets less hard”.
The Outrun will be released in cinemas across the UK and Ireland on September 27.
