Sing Street (2016)

I liked Sing Street so much, after liking Once so much nearly 10 years ago, that I'm actually sitting here kicking myself for missing writer and director John Carney's picture from 2013, Begin Again (disinclined to believe lightning could strike twice, though honestly I think I didn't notice it going through). So, right, Netflix queue ho! Like Once, Sing Street is set in an Ireland everybody wants to get away from, and, also like Once, the means of escape is music. Carney creates an old-fashioned kind of musical, where the songs draw from and propel the events and characters. They live their lives and transmute the experience into music before our very eyes. As with all musicals, Sing Street flirts dangerously with hokum. And it is not without its awkward and/or dead patches (and never mind the narrative holes, that's privilege of musicals). Here the time frame is the mid-'80s, and the key touchstones are Duran Duran and an older brother who is passionate about music and the authentic creative life (being himself a bit of a loser since graduating high school). The family finances, well into the Margaret Thatcher economic depression, are constricting. Connor (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), the younger brother, must transfer to a rougher, harder Catholic school. Unfair oppression begins immediately—bullies, and a sadistic authoritarian principal priest who enforces senseless rules. Of course there's a beautiful girl involved too—Raphina (Lucy Boynton), who exudes a glamourous '80s beauty. To impress her, Connor starts a band, so he can invite her to be a model on video shoots. By way of fast cuts and movie magic, a band is formed and songwriting begins. And here we arrive at the wonderful part of the movie, which happily makes up most of it—writing songs. A comparable movie is Grace of My Heart, a period piece with new songs in period style. We see Connor strike on a germ of a lyrical idea, usually with an obvious influence. Besides the aforementioned Duran Duran, there are also key songs by the Cure, Hall & Oates, Joe Jackson, the Jam, Wham!, and other stone pure winners. Connor sits down with his songwriting partner, an introverted musical savant, and then eventually the whole band, as the fragments fall into place and they turn out to be some pretty good songs. "Drive It Like You Stole It" is the marquee play, an absolute delight, credited to Carney with Gary Clark. Other Sing Street songs—that's the name of the band, after the school they attend, Synge Street—are not credited, but are various degrees of high moments, perhaps suggested by their titles (do yourself a favor, and see for yourself): "The Riddle of the Model," "Up," "Girls," and the revenge song "Brown Shoes." There's a lot of talk in this movie, usually from that older brother, Brendan (Jack Reynor), about finding yourself and finding out what's real. That's what happens here. At the very least, Sing Street is another nearly perfect musical from Carney.

Once (2006)

#44: Once (John Carney, 2006)

I was pleased to see last night that ongoing experiments rolling out advance word of my picks via the medium of powerful psychic vibrations have finally led to an instance of success. I salute Dave MacIntosh, who appears to be an authentic sensitive whether he knew it or not.

I have three movies on my list from the past 10 years, and am only entirely certain about one of them. This is not that one, but I sure like it a lot. It seems to get classified most often as a musical, but it's a musical in about the same way that the double-album Tommy is an opera. Set in Dublin, featuring a street busker with a recently broken heart who meets a Czech émigré barely getting by, it's steeped in a kind of rock culture that traces back to an era of nascent '60s exhaustion, as when Bob Dylan and the Band were down in a basement woodshedding. It's far more Richard Thompson than The Commitments, try it that way. But that's not right either because these songwriters and musicians are more plugged into all the lilting beauties of a romance, so keep that in mind too.

Once (2006)

USA, 85 minutes

Director/writer: John Carney
Photography: Tim Fleming
Music: Glen Hansard, Markéta Irglová
Cast: Glen Hansard, Markéta Irglová

This is a musical in approximately exactly the same way that Tommy is an opera (it has songs the way Tommy has an overture and underture). Whatever you want to call it it's a beautiful and tremendously moving love story, which I suspect benefits in no small measure from the somewhat unsettling fact that the actors playing the principals were actually falling in love during the filming. These things happen, as they say, and if I have my misgivings about the players (the age difference, see) I don't about the characters, which has to do with the story, but I'm not going to give things away. Another key point in its favor: the music is terrific, a kind of woodshedding Band circa Big Pink by way of Irish busking sort of thing (but much more romantic)—think Richard Thompson infinitely more raw rather than Bono, please (let alone The Commitments)—a fresh and invigorating sound that harks clearly enough to the late '60s/early '70s, which also fits the characters, who are lovely and charming in every way that matters. Oh, and some of the songs are guaranteed to stick your heart. Which, I guess, must make it a musical after all—at least to the extent that it's such a perfectly delicious fantasy, all those gritty street trappings notwithstanding.