Review: Sing Street

Ireland/UK 2016 106 mins Dir: John Carney Cast: Ferdia Walsh-Peelo, Lucy Boynton, Jack Reynor, Aidan Gillen, Maria Doyle Kennedy

Redemption through music is a recurring theme of director John Carney, from the delightfully wistful, micro-budget Once to the glossier, although no less enjoyable, A-list drama of Begin Again starring Mark Ruffalo and Keira Knightley. It’s a theme that again provides the spine of his latest movie, Sing Street, but far from proving stale it’s an approach that remains as joyous and uplifting as ever, goosed by a more overtly autobiographical context and a pitch-perfect observation of 1980s Dublin. Soft-centred and pat though it may be, it’s hard not to fall in love with Sing Street’s joie de vivre and big heart.

Impressively top lined by 16-year-old Irish musical star Ferdia Walsh-Peelo, the movie is many things: a coming-of-age story filtered through a musical odyssey, a portrait of a Dublin on the verge of economic collapse and, perhaps most wondrously, a reminder of how sibling love can often prove to be more of a powerful guiding light than parental influence. Walsh-Peelo plays Conor, a teenager navigating the big-haired, pop-infused miasma of 1985 musical culture with a little help from his shaggy-haired, older stoner brother Brendan (an utterly terrific Jack Reynor), who claims the school of record collecting is the most vital education one can experience.

Unfortunately for Conor, his parents (an effective, though sadly underused, duo of Aidan Gillen and Maria Doyle Kennedy) are in dire financial straits and on the verge of splitting up, their situation mirrored in the dilemma of other Dubliners making the exodus to the wealthier climes of London. With that, Conor is moved from his elite private school to a more down-heel Christian Brothers school, where he immediately falls foul of the dictatorial Brother Baxter (Don Wycherley) on account of his brown shoes, and also intimidating bully Barry (Ian Kenny).

However his fortunes appear to be on the up when, from afar, he spots alluring Raphina (Lucy Boynton); falling head over heels in hormonal amour, he offers to cast her as a model in his music video. The rub is that he doesn’t in fact have a band, meaning it’s time to put one together starting with aspiring producer Darren (Ben Carolan) and all-round instrumentalist Eamon (Mark McKenna). Dubbing themselves ‘Sing Street’ (after the road on which their school is located), it’s time to make sweet music although, as Brendan pointedly observes, their role is not to act as yet another tiresome covers band (amusingly, Conor’s first instinct) but to craft toe-tapping hits of their own.

What Carney does brilliantly with Sing Street is pull us into the singularly idealistic and optimistic mindset of its young protagonist; it’s as warm-hearted and funny a depiction of adolescent self-assuredness and invincibility as has been seen in years, aided by Walsh-Peelo’s superb lead performance. Especially terrific are the initial band-forming sessions, the incongruous mishmash of costumes and make-up utilised in their home-made, grainy music videos (shot by Darren) beautifully and hilariously encapsulating a sense of teenage freedom. Perhaps this accounts for the somewhat jarringly smooth sound that the band hit on from an early stage; a little more of Once’s rawness, not to mention the odd bum-note, would have added grittier authenticity although it could be argued Conor’s wide-eyed point of view accounts for the band’s somewhat implausibly overproduced sound.

And as for the music itself it’s pretty hard to resist, the band’s original numbers (composed by Carney and Danny Wilson front man Gary Clark; energetically performed by Walsh-Peelo) guaranteed to go down as ear-worming classics. They also mesh brilliantly with the requisite hits from the likes of The Cure, Duran Duran and Hall & Oates. Yet the great triumph of the movie is how it gets beneath the glossy New Romantic surface: Conor’s poignant musical development, progressing from a wannabe musician looking to impress girls to genuinely talented front man drawing on the complexities of his own life, is quite sensitively and wonderfully wrought.

Although several of the players are disappointingly underwritten, namely Conor’s band mates other than Darren and Eamon, the more substantial creations are tangy and vibrant, demonstrating Carney’s impressive ability to craft characters who continually take us by surprise. In particular the show is stolen by Boynton as Raphina, transcending the vapid love-interest to communicate genuine heartache, and, especially, Reynor as Brendan whose own melancholy back-story forms the basis of possibly the movie’s most emotional scene. Likewise, the intelligent writing of the bullying Barry goes far beyond the usual school bully stereotype. Thinly scripted and marshmallowy though the movie is on occasion, it’s also got the director’s characteristic human touch that expertly punctures through the aura of hazy nostalgia. With its blend of laughs, tears and irresistible music, Sing Street hits the high notes.