Every once in a while, it’s a
pleasure to go to a cozy neighborhood theatre and watch an unheralded indie
from somewhere far away. It helps, of course, if the actors are spot-on, the
scenery is beautiful, and the message is life-affirming, though not corny.
That’s how I felt after seeing The Ballad of Wallis Island, filmed on
the rugged coast of Wales by a British director I know nothing about. (His name is James Griffiths.) The story is an
expanded version of a BAFTA-nominated short from way back in 2007: "The
One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island" I don’t know that film at
all, but it obviously got enough attention that the talented Carey Mulligan
signed on as female lead in the expanded film. But the real key figures are two
friends who both wrote and starred in the original short version, and now fill
the same roles in The Ballad of Wallis Island.
When an actor writes a leading role for himself or herself, there’s always the danger that the film will come off as a vanity project. Such is not the case here: while watching the film I had no notion that two men I’d never heard of were behind the creation of the characters they played. I only sensed that both Tom Basden and Tim Key were perfectly cast. Basden, who nicely sings and plays guitar, has the role of Herb McGwyer, a once-popular folk singer who has never gotten past the loss of his performing partner, Nell Mortimer (Mulligan). (Think of them as the Ian and Sylvia of their day.) Herb may have once been a star, but now he’s something of a sad sack, hurting for money and feeling that the world has passed him by. He’s been invited to Wallis Island by an enthusiastic fan, Charles Heath (Key), whose adoration for the old McGwyer and Mortimer duo has no bounds. Charles—a big lottery winner—lives in solitary splendor, indulging in whims like bringing Herb to his island home for a private concert. What Herb doesn’t know right away is that Charles has also invited Nell, who arrives with her new husband in tow. Uh oh! Everyone is mostly polite in a veddy British way, but the tension has suddenly ratcheted up to eleven.
Basden and Key, in particular, are experts at playing off one another. The tall, lanky Basden endures all sorts of bad luck. Upon arrival at the island he falls into the ocean, drenching his luggage. His iPhone gets accidentally immersed more than once, necessitating a bowlful of rice that ends up contributing to the plot in surprising ways. And he never quite manages to take a bath without his host popping in to see how he’s doing. We never laugh at Basden’s woes, because he seems like a man who’s suffered deep disappointments. But Key, as his opposite number, is hilarious. He loves playing the cheery host to his celebrity guests, and—probably from years of living alone—has developed a stream of puns and other babble that he inflicts on anyone within earshot. (Watching him try to play a solo game of tennis is worth the price of admission.) He’s funny and lovable and extremely aggravating, all at the same time. But it takes a while for us to appreciate how lonely he must be.
There are a few other important characters, notably the always welcome Mulligan, who beautifully duets with Basden in a key scene. But basically The Ballad of Wallis Island is two for the show, And I wouldn’t want it any other way.