Reviewed on January 27th at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival – Premieres Section. 100 Mins
Cast: Tim Key, Tom Basden, Carey Mulligan, Sian Clifford, Akemnji Ndifornyen
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Music, Romance
Director: James Griffiths
In Irish Cinemas: 30th May 2025
In James Griffiths’ whimsically offbeat comedy The Ballad of Wallis Island, we meet Charles (Tim Key), a character so inherently kind-hearted and generous that you find yourself rooting for him from the moment he appears on screen. He’s the kind of person whose joy becomes infectious — the sort of individual whose double lottery win (despite not being in dire financial straits) somehow feels not just acceptable, but entirely deserved. It’s hard to begrudge him anything. After all, this man greets the world with warmth, whimsy, and a pun at the ready — the kind of person who once travelled the world and summed up Kathmandu as “Kathman-did.”
Key and his frequent collaborator Tom Basden (who also stars) co-wrote the film, which expands on their 2007 short The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island. The film spins it into a gently eccentric, sea breeze-soaked feature that manages to be both melancholic and mirthful. With the tone of a modern fable and the cinematic soul of a vintage mixtape, Wallis Island channels the heartfelt simplicity of John Carney’s music-driven stories and the romantic melancholy of Jesse Peretz’s Juliet, Naked.
Key is the soul of the film. As Charles, he delivers a quietly radiant performance — a man so guileless and generous that even the most sceptical viewer would have difficulty judging his indulgences. Now living in semi-retirement on the fictional and windswept Wallis Island (a gorgeously desolate Welsh isle), Charles has one heartfelt wish: to reunite his favourite folk duo, McGwyer-Mortimer, long estranged both musically and romantically. His plan is unusual, extravagant, and deeply personal — he’s willing to pay handsomely for a private concert performed for an audience of one: himself.
Basden plays Herb McGwyer with a crusty charm, presenting him as a faded folk hero who’s slightly broke, artistically stifled, and bemused by Charles’s eccentric offer. Initially suspicious, Herb accepts the invitation and finds himself knee-deep in island waters — literally — as he stumbles ashore and immediately soaks his phone in the sea. The island’s quirks quickly become evident: Charles’s cosy but peculiar home (complete with a perpetually running tap Charles deems “just a little overenthusiastic”), a lack of phone reception, and bemused locals add a surreal texture to the film’s already off-kilter world.
But the real curveball arrives with Nell Mortimer, played with soulful restraint by Carey Mulligan, and her husband Michael (Akemnji Ndifornyen), who come to the island at Charles’s invitation — much to Herb’s astonishment. The reunion between Nell and Herb is awkward, tender, and emotionally charged, dredging up unresolved tension and lingering affection. Mulligan and Basden have an aching musical chemistry; when they sing together, the film slips into a higher emotional register, with original songs (many penned by Basden) that evoke the poetic intimacy of real-life folk legends like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan.
There’s magic in their music — not just technically, but emotionally. It’s spiritual, deeply felt, and piercingly honest. Through Charles’s eyes, watching them perform is akin to witnessing something sacred. His joy is palpable, anchoring the film’s thematic heartbeat: that art, connection, and beauty are worth striving for, even if they can’t heal everything.
Around this emotional triangle swirl other delights. Sian Clifford brings a sprightly energy to her role as a sardonic local shopkeeper who might be Charles’s romantic match. She provides comic relief and a grounded presence, bridging the fantastical with the familiar. Director James Griffiths, along with cinematographer G. Magni Ágústsson, makes exquisite use of the island’s dramatic scenery — sweeping coastlines, jagged cliffs, and skies that stretch into the infinite — creating a setting that feels both isolated and enchanted, like something out of a storybook for adults.
Production designer Alexandra Toomey and costume designer Gabriela Yiaxis contribute enormously to the film’s immersive charm. Every detail in Charles’s home, from the eclectic knick-knacks to the rustic textures, reflects his idiosyncratic soul. Mulligan’s geometric-patterned dress, meanwhile, captures Nell’s bittersweet complexity—stylish yet emotionally weathered.
While Michael, Nell’s husband, occasionally fades into the background — a narrative necessity to allow the emotional focus to remain on Herb and Nell — the script by Key and Basden skillfully avoids mawkish sentimentality. Their writing balances gentle humour and emotional honesty, handling the rekindled relationship with nuance. There’s a mature understanding here: sometimes, even the most potent creative chemistry can’t mend broken hearts. Sometimes, connection and closure don’t go hand in hand.
Still, the film’s tone remains buoyant and humane throughout. The humour is laced with classic British understatement — droll, dry, and delightful — while the emotional arcs remain tender without becoming cloying. With its emotional catharsis and cinematic beauty, the climactic musical performance doesn’t feel earned through narrative manipulation, but through carefully cultivated character work and genuine feeling.
Ultimately, The Ballad of Wallis Island is that rare kind of film: whimsical yet weighty, emotionally resonant while never losing its lightness. It’s a gentle crowd-pleaser — not in a broad, boisterous way, but with quiet confidence and charm. Full of music, laughter, longing, and affection for its flawed, lovable characters, this Sundance gem doesn’t just strike the right notes — it plays them gracefully.
Overall: 8/10
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