Nora Fingscheidt’s third feature film, THE OUTRUN, offers a raw and honest look into the life of an addict in the Orkney Islands of Northern Scotland. Based on Amy Liptrot’s critically acclaimed memoir of the same name, this film proves to be a faithful adaptation of a source that is part journal and part nature textbook.

Saoirse Ronan is our protagonist, Rona, and is unquestionably the standout element of this poignant film; whilst Rona isn’t inherently a sympathetic character, Ronan plays her with such emotional depth, baring the more misguided parts of her character with empathy and sensitivity. Her circumstances and her sheer willingness to turn her life around make Rona the tragic hero of our story, falling prey to the claws of addiction but finding resilience within herself nonetheless.

Rona’s voiceovers narrate the film with a reliably honest and educational tone, offering Scottish folk tales and brief biology lessons that relate to the islands. These interludes of natural scenery, fairytales and fables are integral to the story, as Rona often finds solace in these brief escapes from the chaos of her own life. Fingscheidt seamlessly incorporates these episodes in the style of animated cutaways, which embellish the film with mythical undertones and equip the audience with an understanding of how the Islands play an active part in Rona’s life, addiction and recovery.

Told as a non-linear narrative, THE OUTRUN documents Rona’s life from childhood to adulthood. Through glimpses, we discern that her alcohol dependence is likely due to her tumultuous upbringing, acting as a carer for her father (Stephen Dillane), who has Bipolar disorder and is prone to episodes of mania that prove both frightening and overwhelming to young Rona and her mother (Saskia Reeves). As she matures and moves to London, we follow her fondness for alcohol develop into a dependence, which in turn grows deeper and more serious: an addiction. After meeting Daynin (Paapa Essiedu) at a club, they embark on a loving, yet somewhat dysfunctional, relationship together. But despite their compatibility, their lifestyles do not coincide, and their partnership proves unsustainable in the ugly face of addiction.

“Saoirse Ronan is our protagonist, Rona, and is unquestionably the standout element of this poignant film; whilst Rona isn’t inherently a sympathetic character, Ronan plays her with such emotional depth, baring the more misguided parts of her character with empathy and sensitivity.”

At the height of her addiction, an inebriated Rona is sexually assaulted by a man who offers her a lift at the end of a night out. It is a sobering reality that no woman is safe from this harrowing crime, and Fingscheidt honours Liptrot’s account through Rona’s vulnerable and affecting story. Female addicts are frequently victims of sexual assault, although this aspect of their lives is rarely seen in cinematic depictions. THE OUTRUN challenges the audience’s preconceptions of what an addict’s life may entail.

Daynin picks Rona up from the police station, and together Ronan and Essiedu deliver some of the most heartbreakingly painful dialogue between two lovers torn apart by dependence and emotional exhaustion. Fingscheidt doesn’t sanitise or edit Rona’s story to make it more palatable to an audience, nor does she glorify the lifestyle that can come with addiction. Comparable to the 2018 film BEAUTIFUL BOY (which was also based on a memoir), THE OUTRUN succeeds in showing the grittier and darker sides of substance abuse, and how quickly a life can change in substance-fuelled states of reckless abandon.

The work of cinematographer Yunus Roy Imer stands out amongst the technical aspects of the film. He creates a visually addictive film, centring Rona both on the screen and in our minds. He brings the Islands to life with vivid blues and greens, wide, sweeping shots of the Scottish landscape, and quiet yet powerful depictions of life on a remote island. In contrast, the ever-luminescent bright-haired Rona is juxtaposed against her surroundings, subconsciously singling her out from the world and the sense of normality around her. Ronan handles this intense scrutiny from the camera with the skill and emotional nuance required of such a demanding role.

There have been countless films produced on the topic of addiction and recovery, and what makes this adaptation successful is simple, yet so effective: Fingscheidt does not demand sympathy or pity from her audience. She does not exaggerate or emphasise any parts of Rona’s life for the sake of glamorising her trauma. Instead, she asks us just to lend an ear to Rona’s story; a beautifully uncomplicated position for any audience to find themselves in.