I remember falling in love with “Once,” once. It was the little Irish indie that could, a handmade love story and musical with non-actors, a budget that just barely exceeded $100k, shot with two handi-cams and in only 17 days. With hardly a story and already established music that was more folky and soothing than Top 40 radio friendly, it made it across the pond from Ireland on sheer pluck and warmth.
Since then, I became a big fan of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, The Swell Season and now Hansard’s solo work (I’ll get around to Spotifying The Frames, I promise). The “Once” soundtrack became a staple of my listening rotation, and in subsequent viewings of the film I found myself in love with both the songs and the presences.
I also remember thinking how easily something like this could be turned into a play: very small cast, no elaborate sets and a surefire collection of songs. Thankfully Broadway has done that adaptation tactfully instead of blowing it out of proportion as they usually do, and it’s not only won the Tony for Best Musical but also made a steady profit in no time at all.
In fact, everything about “Once” has made it larger than the movie itself. The film will be remembered for its Oscar and for introducing the world to Glen Hansard. But I wondered if it still held up as a movie.
John Carney’s direction and Tim Fleming’s shaky-cam cinematography is so intimately economical. The famous “Falling Slowly” scene inside the music store is wonderful for more reasons than the song. A common sin of movie musicals is watching two people spontaneously burst out into perfectly choreographed song and dance, even if they’ve just met. “Once” alleviates this problem by selecting “Falling Slowly,” a particularly simple pop song in 4/4 and C Major that one could teach to a casual acquaintance and performer. The music they make together is beautiful, but it never loses its charm that these are two poor individuals, not accomplished musicians. The camera too holds on their surprise and growing passion during the song, holding out as long as possible before making the obligatory cut to the impressed store manager.
But just before that as Irglova performs a classical piece, Carney in one shot frames the pair of them to achieve her performance expressions and Hansard’s pitch perfect reaction shot. It slowly approaches his face, and we see his eyes fill with wonder. They don’t say, “I love you,” but “I understand your music, and I could understand you. We can learn to help each other.”
Because more so than a love story, “Once” is a movie of mutual understanding and friendship. It breaks the mold of a classic love story by not ending the way you might expect, but it does it more so through montages, vignettes and metaphorical suggestions of love and chemistry. The editing itself is musical in this way. It provides background and beauty during Hansard’s performance of “Lies,” it grounds us with the native Irish folk of Hansard’s family around a table cluttered with beer bottles, and it shows wounded emotion during Irglova’s tearful performance of “The Hill.”
I also remember “Falling Slowly” winning the Oscar for Best Original Song. The pair got to perform after three garish, Disney-fied songs from “Enchanted” and a big, cliche tearjerker from “August Rush,” and there was no question which song should win. But what was so perfect was when an absolutely humbled Hansard stumbled onstage in his rugged sport jacket and begged the world to just make art. Jon Stewart jokingly called him arrogant. I realized then how quaint and perfect the mood and personality of the film is.
When it comes to film, it’s not the songs that make the emotions, but the people who make the songs.
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