Sing Street

John Carny recovers from his first awkward dip into mainstream filmmaking, the affable but criminally overwritten Begin Again, with this delightful tale about a teenage band in mid-'80s Dublin. Unlike the older characters in Once and Begin Again, who carry the weight of disillusionment and a life of setbacks, Sing Street is populated entirely with young characters to whom everything is a discovery. They may have their frustrations and obstacles, but all they hear in the music they consume and create are endless possibilities. Thus, this coming-of-age story, while perhaps a little too shiny and simplistic, rings true. It recreates a specific time and place with lived-in detail, and captures the timeless feelings of youthful exuberance and carpe diem. These young characters create art as a means of self-expression, living the dream, escaping a dull or fraught existence, giving voice to unexpressed feelings, and resolving issues that can only be worked through rather than worked out.

The semi-autobiographical story centers on a 15-year-old Dubliner named Conor, dealing with his parents' divorce, a struggling economy, being the youngest boy in the family, being the newest kid at his school, and being shy around girls. Conor escapes all this by writing music, and his story arc feels a little less than realistic. Perhaps because of the story's personal nature, Carny doesn't seem to feel the need to show us how the introverted Conor transforms into a hyper-confident lad. It's the magic of music, I guess, and that works well enough if you are willing to suspend disbelief a bit and revel in the non-narrative joys of this picture, which are plentiful.