'The Outrun' Review

You’re midway through your standard musician biopic. The lead singer, who was doing so well for themselves, has now been introduced to drugs. “I just need to take the edge off,” they say repeatedly, all while their friends and family plead for them to return to how they used to be. They crash out, literally and figuratively, lying in a puddle of their stench and failure. But that low valley eventually leads them to the highest mountain, with sobriety presenting an opportunity to return to their roots and refind their passion for life.

Chances are that it didn’t take much mental strain for you to think of at least a half dozen films that fit that exact description. It’s not hard when the path has been trekked so often that there’s nothing left to admire about it. Now, let’s take that 15-30 minute sequence from all those movies and laboriously stretch it out to 120 minutes. By doing that, you’ve created The Outrun, an addiction drama in which I could have used a couple of drinks to help numb the boredom.

Granted, there is a ceiling to how much a biography can be railed for being formulaic, as they all retell the events in a person’s life, something I have no right as an (uninformed) viewer to criticize as fact or fiction. Who am I to tell someone that their personal journey doesn't ring true, or isn’t unique enough to be worth adaptation? The novel that The Outrun bases itself on serves as a memoir for author Amy Liptrot, tracing her alcohol-fueled days in London to her rehabilitation back in her native Scotland.

Liptrot, Daisy Lewis, and director Nora Fingscheidt adapt the story for the screen, crafting a nonlinear structure that leverages the grip that the past will always have on Liptrot’s stand-in, Rona (Saoirse Ronan). Weeks into her recovery period, she will face a sudden and almost unquenchable urge to drink, coupled with a flashback to the allure that alcohol had in her boozier days. Those crashes of the past and present serve as the biggest flourishes within Fingscheidt’s directorial arsenal, although the past never illuminates more than the simple fact that Rona was a volatile alcoholic who alienated her friends and family. It’s all a bit generic, from the early party days when everything was great, to the later years when she’s stumbling down the street and everyone pleads with her to get help.

Ronan dives headfirst into the material in the same way as someone like Gena Rowlands, grabbing the screen with their magnetic presence and never letting go for a second. She is the pulse that keeps this heart beating, albeit quite slowly for most of the runtime. One would have hoped that a stronger story would have supported her, as her performance, however strong it is, leaves little impression when compared to her previous work and the work of her genre contemporaries.

Repetitive and labored are the traits most commonly found on the road to sobriety, although the authentic notion of translating them to the screen doesn’t favor the viewer. An addiction drama will be born, people will halfheartedly care about it, the performance will gain awards attention, and the world will move on. It’s the circle of life, and we’re just living in between stages of it.