As someone born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, I appreciate a gray, blustery ocean with a stark rocky beach and a wind that can take your breath away. The sensory and physical experience of such a place is truly mind-emptying. So I could understand how a character like Rona (Saoirse Ronan), a young woman struggling with alcoholism, finds herself retreating to a remote spot in Scotland’s Orkney Islands in order to try to empty her body and her mind of her addiction. Nature, in all of its power and beauty, can, as we all know, heal… but for Rona, she learns that her recovery will never be that simple.
The Outrun introduces us to Rona in a non-linear fashion. At rock bottom, with a black eye and (for once) a not-blacked-out memory, Rona finally asks for help and is enrolled at a London clinic to dry her out from her drinking problem. Through time jumps, we know she makes it over three months, and we know she moves home to Orkney to get away from influences and temptations in the city. But recovery and sobriety is not going to be easy for her. Rona finds her hometown stifling, with her concerned mother (Saskia Reeves) encouraging her to find God, and her kind father (Stephen Dillane), living in a caravan out in a field, periodically spiraling with his own untreated mental illness.
Rona finds herself needing to retreat even further, to a remote island in the archipelago called Papa Westray, or “Papay” to the locals. She’s dropped off at a small cabin. It’ll be just her, the birds, the seals, the wind, and the water… with occasional visits with the villagers for supplies and social contact. If you are going to wrestle your demons, may as well do it out of sight of everyone else.
As Rona, Saoirse Ronan is fantastic as usual. A heartbreaker of a flashback shows her groggily waking up to her dejected boyfriend (Paapa Essiedu) sitting on the edge of the bed after yet another humiliating, drunken evening. Tearfully, she apologizes to him profusely, begging forgiveness. But she admits that she doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for, which makes his broken expression unbearable not just to her, but to us as the viewer. When she is physically at her worst with a black eye, you see the emptiness in her eyes colored by a tinge of desperation. And when you see her later with a clear head and resigned determination, you can also tell without a word.
The Outrun is a lovely film that actually gets better. The first half or so has a confusing editing style, I’m guessing as a storytelling trick to show the chaos in Rona’s unruly life. You have to guess where she is in her timeline literally by the color of her hair (blue? blue-tipped? blonde? or red?), which puts extra burden on the viewer, in my mind.
But the second half has a quiet grace, perhaps because it is more linear and cohesive as Rona herself is slowly trying to get her life together. The locals are protective toward her like a warm, accepting hug, and the scenery of the remote, jaggedy, stormy island is gorgeous and invigorating. Can’t blame Rona for finding a sort of safe haven, where she can delve into the ice-cold water howl with the curious and kindred seals.
