Ondine (2010)

Some European cultures have included in their myths a creature known as an Ondine, a water nymph with a mellifluous singing voice who can gain her soul by marrying a land-dwelling man and bearing him a child. Writer-director Neil Jordan brings a variation of the legend to the coast of Ireland with this subtly enchanting drama about two young women who capture the heart of an Irish treasure.

That treasure is Colin Farrell. He’s growing to become one of the better actors of our time, building himself an impressive résumé from period films both past (American Outlaws) and future (Minority Report), to contemporary thriller (Phone Booth), fantasy (The Imaginarium Of Dr. Parnassus), and even dark comedy–his Golden Globe-winning performance from In Bruges sold me on his solid, thoughtful work regardless of the genre. In Ondine, this Dublin-born star comes together with one of the best directors of the Emerald Isle to tell a realistic Irish story dusted with just a touch of fantasy.

Farrell plays a divorced fisherman named Syracuse, though many in the coastal village derisively corrupt his name into “Circus”–“because I used to be a clown,” he says, though he doesn’t mean it literally. He used be a notorious drunk, but eventually realized that someone in the family needed to be sober. So he has taken to the sea and his trawler and lobster pots, living mainly for chances to see his adoring daughter, Annie (Alison Barry), a sickly yet sharp-minded girl in the custody of Syracuse’s surly, alcoholic ex, Maura (Dervla Kirwan).

The screenplay doesn’t waste time with up-front exposition; those background details emerge later, but the movie kicks off with Syracuse finding a surprising catch while reeling in his fishing net: a mysterious woman (Alicja Bachleda), barely alive. She doesn’t want to be seen by anyone else or go to a hospital, so Syracuse brings her on land to his late mother’s house. She says her name is Ondine–“she came from the water,” as she explains its meaning to him. He gets her some dry clothes and helps her settle in, and, in return, she accompanies him on his boat and increases the size of his catch by singing in a strange language. He thinks she brings him luck, but when he alludes to her in a fairy tale he tells his doting daughter, the plucky little girl does her own research and pays Ondine a visit in her motorized wheelchair. Annie suspects that Ondine is actually a “selkie,” a legendary seal creature that can shed its “seal coat” and live on the land for seven years if she buries the coat and weds a “landsman.”

The legend of the selkie will be familiar to those who’ve seen John Sayles’ 1995 film The Secret Of Roan Inish, but Neil Jordan takes a different path, skillfully veering his story away from overt fantasy. There are no special effects, and though details of the legend are introduced thanks to Annie’s curiosity, much is only implied. In the latter half of the film, certain plot developments seem jarring and awkward, almost in violation of the intellectual and emotional core of the story; in retrospect, these developments are logical and keep the film grounded in a relatable reality. Jordan knows exactly what he’s doing, presenting a touching, honest character study beneath a thin veneer of magic.

Polish actress Bachleda is lovely and talented, with the right amount of exotic mystique to embody Ondine. Also noteworthy is Stephen Rea, star of Jordan’s The Crying Game, as the priest who tries to counsel Syracuse both within and without the confessional. Alison Barry is endearing as sweet little Annie; she holds her own opposite Colin Farrell, and that’s quite an accomplishment at her age.

Ultimately, this is Farrell’s movie to carry, and he does so beautifully thanks in part to Neil Jordan’s direction. Though he’s a relatively young man, with his unshorn hair and downcast expression, he seems to carry the weight of a misspent past and a gloomy future. Jordan reflects Farrell’s character with cinematography that captures predominantly grey, overcast weather instead of emerald green picture-postcard vistas; it’s more realistic, and enchanting in its own way. That also applies to several fascinating scenes between father and daughter, and in the confessional with the priest, in which Jordan puts his camera in extremely tight close-ups for a remarkable sense of intimacy. Farrell bares his character’s soul in these nakedly emotional moments, and his acting prowess proves worthy of such scrutiny.

Ondine is a rare find: a romantic fantasy in a remote setting with a Hollywood heartthrob leading man, a lovely young starlet, and an adorable kid–and despite all that, manages to avoid being another cloying, forgettable chick flick. You may have to cast your net far and wide to find this one, but it’s well worth reeling in.