Directed by James Griffiths | Written by Tom Basden and Tim Key | 99 min | ▲▲1/2
Basden and Key are British comedy writers who’ve been developing this material for years, adapting their own short film going back to 2007. The years of chemistry is clear in their performances, which aids this modest, if predictable comedy-drama from director Griffiths, perhaps best known for directing episodes of the series Bad Sisters.
Key is Charles Heath, a lottery winner who lives on a remote, barely inhabited island. Basden is Herb McGwyer, a folk singer whose career has seen better days. Herb has agreed to a suitcase full of cash from Charles, his biggest fan, to play a gig on the island. Herb assumes it’ll be an intimate show, but what he doesn’t realize is Herb’s estranged musical and romantic partner, Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan), is also on the bill — it’s to be a reunion gig. Herb clues in when she arrives on the same beach he’d previously clambered up, with her husband, Michael (Akemnji Ndifornyen), an American, in tow.
This is a terrific concept. What was it that split this pair apart, and is it something that manifested in the music they made together, or that Herb made after? What was their union like back in the day, and their lives together? Unfortunately, none of that is what this movie is about. You may end up wishing it was a French flick and the more passionate, intense storytelling opportunities this premise suggests might be explored with some continental wit and sex.
Also, this movie, like so many, could use more of Carey Mulligan. She offers a hugely illuminating sparkle, lighting up every scene she’s in. But what the movie is actually about is Herb finding faith in his talent and craft with Charles’ inadvertent help — this is an unlikely bromance between a gloomy, self-piteous clod and a Golden Retriever puppy transformed into a human being.
The comedy Ricky Gervais popularized, where cringe is king, has its paws all over this material. Tim Key’s Charles walks a razor-thin line between that recognizably awkward, self-conscious humour of someone who can’t help but stick his foot in his mouth and simply being an irritating schmuck, frequently crossing into the latter. Griffiths having come from television doesn’t do much to curb Key’s knack for inane buffoonery, which might work well in a sitcom but almost capsizes this delicate affair. And Basden’s Herb never quite convinces as the gifted musician who would inspire such idolatry as he’s so busy moping.
Helpfully, the script provides the requisite light chuckles, and we can enjoy the welcome supporting presence of Sian Clifford, formerly Fleabag’s uptight sister, as a local shopkeep. As The Ballad of Wallis Island locates a few moments of drama and reveals Charles’ true motivations for bringing these musicians together, it does a better job of balancing light humour, sentiment, and themes of creativity and knowing when to let go.
