"Three chords and the truth" reads the tattoo on the right forearm of Rose-Lynn Harlan. That fundamental recipe was coined by another Harlan, American songwriter Harlan Howard providing his abiding definition of country music in the 1950's. This is the sort of thing Rose Harlan would know, country music historian and aspirant that she is.
Unlike many a music enthusiast from the United Kingdom, Rose has a deeper knowledge of and feeling for American roots music than most Americans. One of the strengths of Wild Rose is that we are dealing in a fairly genuine country music here (not "Country & Western;" Rose bristles whenever anyone attaches that common old term to her singing), as opposed to the sort of bathetic sludge that tends to clog "country" radio these days in America. Wild Rose is like a deeply felt old country song, a bit careworn and certainly predictable. But thanks to Jessie Buckley, playing Rose with a bone-deep consistency, the film is as transporting as a reliable, familiar tune.
Unlike many a music enthusiast from the United Kingdom, Rose has a deeper knowledge of and feeling for American roots music than most Americans. One of the strengths of Wild Rose is that we are dealing in a fairly genuine country music here (not "Country & Western;" Rose bristles whenever anyone attaches that common old term to her singing), as opposed to the sort of bathetic sludge that tends to clog "country" radio these days in America. Wild Rose is like a deeply felt old country song, a bit careworn and certainly predictable. But thanks to Jessie Buckley, playing Rose with a bone-deep consistency, the film is as transporting as a reliable, familiar tune.
Yes, we all probably know where this is going before we settle into our theater seats. We first find Rose gathering her possessions - most notably some CD's and a wall map of Nashville, Tennessee - into a clear plastic bag as she prepares to leave a Stirling prison, after a one-year sentence for delivering heroin. There's a bit of fist pumping and well wishing from a couple of Rose's fellow inmates as she leaves her confinement, burdened as she is with an ankle bracelet. The young woman directs her considerable energy into freedom and towards her Mecca of Music City. As it turns out, the fairly predictable destination of Wild Rose, the "where," is a place of emotion and not geography. Where Rose Harlan physically comes to rest, much as the emphatic woman can ever rest, and the circuitous route to get there helps the film build a very difficult to resist payoff.
Predictable as the redemption may be, Rose Harlan comes out prison a single-minded and self-involved young woman. Not exactly music, country or otherwise, to the ears of her mother and two young children. Rose returns to Glasgow, enjoys a quick shag with a boyfriend in a public park and then walks her white cowboy boots to the public housing estate where her mother has been taking care of the kids during her confinement. The long-suffering mother has very little patience remaining for her daughter and her fanciful country music dreams. For their part, Rose's children are predictably troubled by her absence and return, the wee Wynonna (Daisy Littlefield) almost silent, the younger Lyle (Adam Mitchell) sometimes loudly acting out.
Burrowing deeply into a Scottish burr and playing the long put upon mother is none other than Julie Walters. If you've been watching Ms. Walters since her film debut in Educating Rita, lo those several decades ago (1983), you're quite aware of the authority and feeling she brings to these roles of English (or Scottish) working class women, rock solid, but often yearning for more than their circumscribed worlds allow. Such has been the case from her debut opposite Michael Caine, to the ballet teacher of Billy Elliott (2000), to Wild Rose, as well as several other roles along the way. Here Walters is strong and emotionally appealing as ever, as much a presiding spirit as a member of the film's ensemble.
As her ankle bracelet won't allow night work and her country music club replaced her while she was in prison (at which news we get another blast of just how charmless can our heroine be when thwarted), Rose is forced to get a day job. Swept by the fairy dust of feel-good movie scripts, Rose lands at the posh suburban home of Susannah. Typical of Rose's thoroughly unchastened attitude post-release, she responds to this good fortune by slightly running amok in the mansion the first time Susannah leaves her alone, kicking back on one of the beds and guzzling from several bottles of pricey hooch.Rose doesn't get fired for her unique approach to housekeeping and liberties with the liquor cabinet. Instead, Susannah and both of her children are quite taken with the brash newcomer to their lives. Just this side of fairy godmother perfection is this Susannah, thorougly admiring of her housekeeper's singing ability and encouraging of Rose's dreams. Susannah convinces Rose to record a song online and is well enough connected to make sure that BBC2 radio legend Bob Harris (one of several cameos in the film) hears it. "Whispering Bob" is also impressed with Rose and an invitation to London is proffered.
There are occasionally reminders that Susannah is of this Earth, as when we see her sitting on the steps outside her mansion smoking a joint. This near-perfect presence in Rose's life, appearing at just the right time is one of Wild Rose's greater stretches. At the same time, this does allow one to spend some time in the company of the fairly luminous Sophie Okonedo. So, there's that.To it's credit, Wild Rose doesn't quite offer instant clarity and maturity on the part of the young woman and mother anymore than her journey to dream fulfillment is a straight line. Much as she seems to grow a bit into her role as a mother, Rose still leaves a hospitalized son behind to attend a birthday concert arranged by Susannah (for her 50th), an occasion that's to double as a kind of crowd-sourcing fundraiser for Rose.
The redemption comes, as it must, but with a couple of not entirely predictable bends in that dusty old road. These include the manner in which Rose finally gets to Nashville and how things transpire while she's there among the throngs trying to break into the country music business. Typical of Wild Rose, the trip to Music City doesn't go in either of the typical directions. At the same time, there's a rather calculated moment of emotional payoff that's pretty difficult to resist. Rose breaks away from a tour group at the Ryman Auditorium (the home of the Grand Ole Opry from 1943 - 1974) and steps onto the the largely vacant stage to sing Wynonna Judd's "When I Reach The Place I'm Going," a agreeable fiddler offering subtle accompaniment.
As with Rose's early recording before Sophie and her children that would eventually get her that appointment with Bob Harris (another Wynonna Judd gem, "Peace In This House"), we see the main reason that Wild Rose delivers - it's scrappy, very talented star, Jessie Buckley. Both of those vocal performances echo the greater performance of Ms. Buckley throughout the film. There's ample power and brass, but also a gentleness and grace of both interpretation and expression that makes the whole soar. So she does, leading us gently into "When I Reach the Place I'm Going" before her voice fills the empty Ryman, a lovely rear perspective showing the building's stained glass (the Ryman was first built as a tabernacle) glowing in the distance.
Wild Rose is a film with both its heart and soundtrack in the right place. You might well know where it's going before it begins, but the rendering is so good you're likely not to care. Julie Walters and the rest of the able cast are like a sure backing band for the lead performance of Jessie Buckley. Her Rose is such a lived-in performance that one is carried right along to its very satisfying coda. Like any indelible tune that rises from the blood and bone of lived experience.
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