The springtime indie movie is a unique creation. These smaller-scale movies, usually aimed at older audiences, launch in March and April as light counterprogramming to the big blockbusters and kid's movies dropping at this time of year. Hello, My Name is Doris, Salmon Fishing in the Yemen, Table 19, The Man Who Knew Infinity, Gloria Bell, they’re all part of this cinematic canon. Now, nobody in the world of indie cinema is sitting behind a camera, watching a scene play out, and going “this will be a perfect late March movie!” Release date decisions come down to distributors, not artists. It’s really a coincidence these features share similar springtime release dates.
Still, there’s clearly a type of movie indie labels like Bleecker Street, Focus Features, or IFC Films try to pencil into March or April. Something undemanding that you’re the 60+ crowd can get some joy out of is optimal for this corner of the calendar. Continuing this tradition is The Ballad of Wallis Island. The feature comes courtesy of screenwriters and leading men Tom Basden and Tim Key, a duo who've constantly worked together in the past. Their exploits including projects like Ballad’s short film source material, The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island.
This feature-length expansion of that production sees Basden playing has-been singer Herb McGwyer. Once part of the major folk duo group McGwyer Mortimer with Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan), McGwyer split the band up in pursuit of a solo career. Years later, he's all washed up and comes to perform on the isolated domicile Wallis Island for some desperately needed cash. It turns out, though, that McGwyer won't be performing for countless Wallis Island patrons. Long-time resident and McGwyer Mortimer superfan Charles (Key) hired this man to perform solely for him for £500,000. Oh, and it turns out Charles has also asked Nell (whom McGwyer hasn’t spoken to in nine years) to join the performance as well.
The Ballad of Wallis Island could’ve used a dash of heightened reality. The emphasis on an isolated village and an important phone booth kept reminding me of Bill Forsyth's Local Hero, which juggled very real human emotions with deeply pronounced flourishes like Felix Happer's (Burt Lancaster) obsession with the stars. A willingness to embrace slightly more far-fetched sensibilities, especially visually, could’ve made certain aspects of Wallis Island a tad more digestible.
In its final form, director James Griffiths opts for a grounded execution evoking John Carney films (though maybe I made that association simply because of all the guitar strumming). The McGwyer’s most abrasive qualities and the clingiest Charles moments don’t quite work in these confines. Griffiths and cinematographer G. Magni Ágústsson incorporate grounded visual tendencies that make every awkward pause or cruel declaration hit a bit too hard. Considering Basden and Key's script aims for consistent sentimentality (not a bad goal at all inherently), these characters demand a more fable-esque aesthetic. Instead, Wallis Island’s fanciful script and naturalistic filmmaking are at direct odds with each other.
Charles especially suffers from this problem. He’s meant to be a lovable goof with a penchant for puns and a kind heart. Instead, a visual scheme that keeps everyone’s feet firmly planted in reality exacerbates the unnerving undercurrent of his social slip-ups and controlling nature. He sometimes come across like he’s two seconds away from becoming the villain of a The Menu/Don’t Worry Darling/Blink Twice/Opus pastiche! That’s a pity because Key’s quite good in his performance. He especially excels in a handful of dialogue-free moments where the camera focuses on close-ups of Charles as his face reacts to stirring musical performances. In these intimate segments, Key works wonders communicating this man’s rich internal emotions. You can see worlds of pain, gratitude, and other feelings lurking in those pupils.
Key’s amiable performance mirrors the low-key vibes he and Basden bring to the script. Wallis Island’s chillaxed atmosphere sometimes bordering on a hangout movie is one of its greatest assets. This is a feature incredibly interested in nonchalant tennis matches or strolls to the only convenience store in the area. These subdued matters never quite fulfill their coziest potential, but they are pleasant experiences. Nighttime brings out the best in both the script and Griffiths’ direction. Setting off lanterns in the evening or crooning tunes at the dinner table while it’s dark outside see the proceedings hitting their most moving stride.
Speaking of songs, the various tunes from these fictional musicians are a fine crop of ditties. They’re not super catchy nor reach the pinnacle of That Thing You Do! in movies creating their own in-universe pop sensations. However, they still ache with just enough emotion to fit right into Wallis Island’s intimate gaze. It doesn’t hurt that Basden and Mulligan also have lovely voices that are incredibly enjoyable to listen to. Are these simple pleasures? Perhaps. But there’s nothing wrong with nailing the little things. Yummy corners of a stripped-down meal are still delectable, after all.
I wish The Ballad of Wallis Island committed to more distinctive visuals and aesthetics that could’ve really let its characters hit those creative high points. The movie's harmonies are often pleasant, but unfortunately hit sour notes when the restrictions of its grounded execution become apparent. Still, lovely island scenery and some great vocals do help compensate for the shortcomings. Pleasures here include a lovely emotional beat in Wallis Island’s final scene that, despite my criticisms of the preceding film, still inspired a lump in my throat. It’s also a microcosm of the fleeting but moving virtues often found in a typical springtime indie movie.