"Begin Again"

John Carney tries to make lightning strike twice, but his new urban musical romance fails to recapture the simple authenticity that made Once such a charming experience. Considering how much the film purports to promote independence vis-à-vis of commercial labels and popular appeal, authenticity was where Begin Again had the strongest imperative to succeed, particularly in the musical department, and its responses to that imperative are inconsistent. Take the protagonists’ idea to make an outdoors album in different parts of New York to compensate for their lack of offices: This could have been a terrific tribute to the city’s vibrant diversity of people and places, the sounds of which could be integrated into the music. Carney teases the possibility but ultimately opts to revert to more trivial matters, like showing Mark Ruffalo winning his daughter’s respect and affection by making her play the electric guitar for one of their songs in spite of her mother’s reservations. The idea is never truly exploited and becomes instead just a simple string for the plot to follow, illustrated mostly by montages and two musical performance scenes.

More subtly problematic is the fact that, although the songs are recorded outdoors in-universe, the performances we hear on the soundtrack appear to have been recorded in-studio, which both contradicts the film’s repeated denunciations of overproduced pop music and moots the artistic concept behind the protagonists’ idea. Keira Knightley has received well-earned praise for both her acting performance and her previously-unsuspected singing skills, and one pivotal scene gives her the opportunity to combine both for what should be a potent, cathartic moment for her character: After getting drunk with her presumably straight male platonic friend (how rare is that in movies?), she pens a song about her cheating popstar ex-boyfriend and – in another brilliant setup idea – chooses to record it on the spot in a voice message to him, complete with guitar and piano. The song itself, “Like A Fool”, has the simple heartfelt power of Once’s best numbers, helped by Carney’s gentle, attentive close shots on Knightley’s face.

Unfortunately, as if in doubt of Knightley’s capacity to stand on her own two feet or of the audience’s responsiveness to her, he and editor Andrew Marcus choose to intercut the scene with shots of the ex in question (Adam Levine) receiving, listening and reacting to the song. This excessive underlining muffles the scene’s impact and its emotional weight. It sums up Begin Again in a nutshell: For every step John Carney takes towards the implementation of a good idea, he takes another one back.