It all feels very realistic, and that’s odd in itself since musicals are surely one of the most artificial forms of storytelling.
By: Elise Nakhnikian
I’ve never seen anything quite like Once. Even the robbery that opens the movie veers off in an unexpected direction, as the skittish robber that a street musician (Glen Hansard of The Frames) chases down the streets of Dublin turns out to be someone he knows. The musician recovers his cash-filled guitar case and then gives some of the money to the robber, along with a hug and an exasperated lecture.
It’s a clever introduction to this light-spirited love story, which takes place in a hardscrabble but benevolent world full of serendipitous meetings, generous gestures and unexpected plot twists.
Even the way the songs are worked in is refreshing. The lyrics, which were written by Hansard and his costar Markéta Irglová (a Czech musician who has recorded music with Hansard), are highly emotional and evocative. But they rarely spell out what the characters are feeling for each other, in that classic MGM-musical style that has become such a part of our genetic movie-watching code.
Instead, as the musician bonds with a young fan and fellow musician (Irglová) over the music they both love, we get to know them the same way they get to know each other mainly by watching and listening intently as they play and sing, he on a well-seasoned acoustic guitar and she on keyboards (when she can find some to play, that is, since she can’t afford any of her own).
The credits call our hero and heroine just Guy and Girl, and we never learn their names, presumably in an attempt to make them symbolize all lovers. That could be annoyingly coy, but instead it just feels irrelevant, since there’s nothing generic about these well-defined characters.
Her bright, girlish grin (Irglová was only 17 when the movie was shot) and unshakeable optimism and determination are utterly charming, balancing his moodiness nicely. Their voices are complementary too, her cool, subtle harmonies smoothing out the edges of his raw intensity. And their slow, steady courtship brings the exhilaration of falling in love vividly alive.
No wonder they keep winning over the people they encounter, from the music store clerk who lets her play his unsold pianos to her mother, his father, and the sound man who helps them record a CD. You don’t often see working-class communities onscreen that are neither pathologized nor patronized, so it’s refreshing just to hang out in this one, where people who don’t have much share what they have, treat each other with consideration and respect, and look for ways to enjoy life rather than dwelling on their hardships.
It all feels very realistic, and that’s odd in itself since musicals are surely one of the most artificial forms of storytelling invented by man. Telling a realistic story in this stylized format must be hard to pull off lord knows Dancer in the Dark tried, but it bogged down in bombast and artiness.
Writer-director John Carney makes it look easy, giving us a lovely little movie that’s deeply moving, sweetly funny and completely true on an emotional level. It probably helps that he has worked as a musician, playing bass with The Frames before going into movies and television (his show Bachelors Walk is a huge hit in his native Ireland).
Once sometimes verges on slapstick, like that initial robbery scene or another where the girl brings a broken vacuum cleaner for the guy to fix (vacuum cleaner repair is his day job) and winds up dragging it around by its cord like a robot pet. But for the most part, the humor like everything else about this elegantly made meditation on love and the healing power of art is subtle.
The first time the girl performs for the guy, she plays a melancholy, wordless piece on piano. When she’s done, he asks if she wrote it. No, she says, a bit shocked: It’s Mendelssohn. Ah, he answers. It’s good.
"Yes, it’s very good," she responds, flashing one of her broad, happy smiles.
She could say that again.
Rated R for language. 85 minutes.

