Review: Wild Rose

Wild Rose
Cert: 15 / 100 mins / Dir. Tom Harper / Trailer



Well that's a trailer for a much stronger movie, right there. I wish Wild Rose was less pedestrian. I freely admit that I know little-to-nothing about Country*¹, but the music in Wild Rose - the glue which is supposed to hold the whole thing together - feels processed and sanitised to the point of utter blandness. It's admittedly a pretty good fit for the rest of the film.

DAMNEDEST

Now I don't mind 'crowd-pleasing', but director Tom Harper has tried his damnedest to strip any emotional drama out of Nicole Taylor's screenplay and in that respect has succeeded admirably. Harper can't seem to focus on the inner character of Rose, getting caught up instead in the cycle of bad decisions and her abrasive exterior. The feeling seeps through that for a story written by a woman and about the dynamics between three women, the film feels an awful lot like it's directed by a man, somehow. The whole thing just comes off like an ITV drama which bills itself as 'grim' when it's actually just humourless.

In the 'up' beats of the first two acts, the edge is taken off somewhat by the overwhelming certainty that some third-act tears are in the post. But when these arrive, they're neither as heartfelt, harrowing or meaningful as the story really needs*². The only character who feels real in all of this is Rose herself; desperately flawed and unmistakably human. Unfortunately, she's not enough to carry the rest of the film. Jessie Buckley is magnificent in the title role of course (although this is probably because Jessie Buckley would be magnificent reading a takeaway menu), at once both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Again.

CLASHEDEST

But Wild Rose isn't as edgy as it would like you to think, and although the story can barely conceal its fairytale roots, it's not as inspirational either. Despite the desaturated suburban backdrop, this isn't Twin Town and it certainly isn't Trainspotting. At best, it's Billy Elliot without the joy*³. Buckley is so much better than the rest of this film it's not true*⁴. At least the week's other musical outing tells you upfront how cloyingly smug it's going to be.

Wild Rose is fine if you like that sort of thing, although I do think that sort of thing has been done much better elsewhere.

And mate, Rose is not going to be allowed into the USA on some unaccompanied, non-committal sightseeing holiday when she's just got out of prison for narcotics distribution, for actual fuck's sake...

Think of The Commitments, without the iconic soundtrack or the self-indulgent moping.



If you like beige music on a big screen, sure.



Sunday night DVD, tops.



No.



Yes.



No.



Level 1: That Private Basteren is in this.





*¹ It's notable that every mention of "Country and Western" in the script receives a petulant tut and eye-roll from the central character, yet when her prison friends shout "yer goin'a be the next Dolly Parton!" (the most clunkingly civilian of Country references next to Willie Nelson, and made by people she's known on a daily basis for two years), Rose doesn't tell them to fuck the fuck off. The fucking hypocrite. ^{[ BACK ]}

*² Spoilers, but: Rose goes to That London (a trip paid for by someone else) with no real plan and returns after achieving nothing. Then Rose goes to Nashville (a trip paid for by someone else) with no real plan and returns after achieving nothing. Rose then decides that the best thing to do is just come back home and not get ideas above her station. Because Rose realises the moment she sets foot outside of Glasgow, she's no longer special. Now, a more focused film would have relayed the message that Rose working her way up from the clubs in suburban Scotland holds more artistic integrity than just bursting into a room, starting singing and hoping to instantly get signed to a label like the lazy winner of some horrific talent show eager for adulation without effort. And that seed is there in Wild Rose, but it's implied more than stated. Which is a shame because almost everything else here is bellowed at the audience without even a hint of subtext. The craft is buried beneath the attention-seeking noise. Again, a pretty good fit all things considered. ^{[ BACK ]}

*³ Up to and including, of course, the presence of National Treasure™ Julie Walters, doing her very best here to act like National Treasure™ Julie Walters, in a film which benefits in absolutely no way from featuring National Treasure™ Julie Walters doing a Scottish accent that seems to move about 30 miles between each scene. ^{[ BACK ]}

*⁴ Oh, and Whispering Bob Harris is in this. True story, Bob lives in one of the villages round my way and I saw him in my local Sainsbury's one night about six years ago. Bob asked a staff member where the tonic water was when he was standing in front of the tonic water. Bob then placed the contents of his basket onto the conveyor and then just left the empty basket on the conveyor. Bob left his card in the card machine after entering his PIN and went to walk off with his shopping. And as batshit crazy as all that sounds, at least it was a performance I could believe in. Bob plays 'himself' in Wild Rose and it's absolutely, toe-curlingly atrocious. I like Bob, but what the hell is he doing here? ^{[ BACK ]}


DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
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