Rona, 29, is at a crossroads. Festive during his studies, his drunken nights became dangerous alcoholic excesses. So here she is leaving London for an isolated archipelago off the coast of Scotland, on the island where she grew up, a place from which she once left without intending to return. In island destitution, far from urban chaos, Rona hopes to rebuild her life. She still has to manage to stay. Directed by Nora Fingscheidt, who adapted the latter’s autobiographical story with Amy Liptrot, The Outrun (The gap) features an exceptional performance by Saoirse Ronan, awarded at the Telluride Festival.
The film immediately adopts a non-linear narrative structure, where past and present intertwine and echo each other. Sudden ellipses destabilize here and there, on purpose. Indeed, like the fragmented temporality, these moments of stumbling are in phase with the heroine’s state of mind. A deeply tormented heroine behind the mask of impassivity that she willingly presents to the world.
In this regard, and as usual, Saoirse Ronan (Lady Bird, Amonite) expresses a lot without saying a word: an almost imperceptible clenching of the jaw, a distant look… A subtle expressiveness that Nora Fingscheidt captures by multiplying the close-ups of the so telling face of her star (and co-producer).
This explains this, the voice-over narration sometimes appears superfluous, with its excess information. Although these interior monologues are delivered by Saoirse Ronan in a hushed voice, like a caress.
Austere poetry
In the image, an austere but evocative poetry emanates on many occasions. This is apparent from the opening sequence. After following a child Rona wandering on the shore, we explore the underwater life that unfolds before her. Then we discover an adult Rona, dancing in a nightclub: filmed in slow motion, the scene has the appearance of an aquatic ballet, between transition and continuation.
Shortly after, we witness Rona’s daily life on the island, when she reconnects, under the sign of a dull unease, with her divorced parents. While his mother found God, his father continued to drink, which exacerbated his bipolar disorder. The evolution of the relationship between Rona and her father, but especially the late, balm-like one between the young woman and her mother, is magnificently modulated.
On the island beaten by the wind, at the mercy of violent tides, but calming in their constancy, Rona journeys within herself. Will she go through with it, or will she run away again? The question is very simple, but the portrait that results from it is infinitely complex and moving.