The Outrun

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

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The torments of addiction and alcoholism are minutely handled in “The Outrun” a film by Nora Fingscheidt based on the memoirs of Amy Liptrot. The film is an organic portrayal of dependence. In no uncertain terms and not for the faint, human devils are illuminated within an unusual kelpie heart. This film is more spiritually truthful than “Leaving Las Vegas” precisely because not an ounce of added drama is added to this searing yet beautiful narrative.

Rona (Saoirse Ronan) is a young creative woman living in London. Her mother is Evangelical, and her father is schizophrenic. Rona is driven to go out and party, to escape her reflections. She is attracted to the calm and empathetic Daynin (Paapa Essiedu). But she is selfish and irresponsible in the relationship.

The pull to drink is quickly stronger than a magnet. After severely cutting herself after a fall, she reaches out to her mom (Saskia Reeves) who gives no support. Her father (Steven Dillane) is not dependable, stricken with a bipolar condition.

As a result, Rona goes into a tailspin and toxically blacks out. After losing her boyfriend, and enduring numerous trips to the hospital, Rona agrees to join AA. She goes to an island off Scotland as a respite to immerse herself in the natural world, specifically seaweed. The sea is her solace and her savior. Here Rona executes many exquisite drawings, notable for their accuracy and beauty.

Saoirse Ronan is an absolute wonder in her role. She is both a whirling dervish of cataclysmic energy and a delicate servant to the Orkney Islands.

The paganistic splendor of Papa Westray is juxtaposed against the amphetamine purgatory of a London nightclub and its Disco Hellscape. Both illustrate Edmund Burke’s Theory of the Sublime in showcasing a Hell within Heaven and a Heaven within Hell. Both environments are awe-inspiring, volcanic, and numinous, brimming with occult force.

Rona in the throes of addiction is sick and possessed, diseased in her selfishness. Then, healed by the sea, Rona transforms into a saline Joan of Arc, a crusader for the aquatic cause with seals as her disciples. The sea becomes Rona’s religion: wide, warm and all embracing.

Subversively, the sea of the Scottish Isles is the true lasting sacred and healing force, making no human judgments of sin or guilt.

The film is both a valentine to the realm of the seals and the sea as it is a searing diary of pain and temptation.

As an account of alcoholism, “The Outrun” is the most delicate record I have seen, world’s beyond “The Lost Weekend” or “Days of Wine and Roses.” Unfailingly honest, it is both sensitive and sensational.

 

Write Ian at ianfree11@yahoo.com