“Where words fail, music speaks.” So said famed fairy-tale writer Hans Christian Andersen, and nowhere is the power of music more persuasive than in Once.
Made for next to nothing on the streets of Dublin, Once follows a lone Irish busker known simply as ‘Guy’ (Glen Hansard of band The Frames) whose chance encounter with a young Czech pianist – ‘Girl’ (Markéta Irglová) – ignites a relationship that, on the surface, is based on their mutual love of music, but in reality cuts much deeper.
A visual ‘album’ of sorts, Once is punctuated with the kind of songs that tell the story of the pair more eloquently, and with a greater sense of depth and pain, than any exposition could express.
The music, a kind of folksy Damian Rice infused with eastern European guitars, was written and performed by Hansard and Irglová, and while it may not be to all tastes, its simple sentiment is powerful enough to hit even the hardest of hearts. It’s augmented by director John Carney’s faux-guerrilla style, all shaking cameras and natural lighting. Though this grates at times, it fuels the feeling of rawness and spontaneity that the songs provoke.
As trite as the couple’s troubles initially sound – he is attempting to forget a past love, she is caring for her struggling family – Once is both whimsical and amicable, buoyed enormously by newcomer Markéta Irglová’s performance. Her innocent and playful air – with her penchant for wearing men’s jackets and her quirky attempts at swearing in English – is irresistible.
Lovingly composed, Once rarely hits a bum note. At times, the fanciful narrative can be a little excessive, but Carney’s light touch is forgiving enough to let the irregularities slide. With a pared down approach to filmmaking, and a desire to let the songs do the talking, Once should strike a resounding chord with audiences.
