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Sunshine on Leith

The back catalogue of Scottish outfit The Proclaimers takes prime position in this assemblage of three intertwined love stories.
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The difficulty with jukebox musicals, that subset of sing-alongs set around already popular songs, is all there in the description: too often, the need to work particular tunes into the mix takes precedence over any subtleties in the narrative. That’s not always a detraction, but it is often a distraction. In Sunshine on Leith, the back catalogue of Scottish outfit The Proclaimers takes prime position in the assemblage of three intertwined love stories.

Returning from service in Afghanistan, best pals Davy (George McKay, How I Live Now) and Ally (Kevin Guthrie, Trash Humpers) have romance on their minds. Ally rekindles his relationship with Liz (Freya Mavor, TV’s Skins), Davy’s sister, while Davy finds a new girlfriend in Yvonne (Antonia Thomas, Misfits), Liz’s workmate. Their halcyon days of double dating soon hit a series of troubles, with Liz seeking greener pastures overseas, and Davy unwilling to commit. Davy’s parents, Rab (Peter Mullan, Top of the Lake) and Jean (Jane Horrocks, Absolutely Fabulous), watch on, battling their own issues as they approach their 25th wedding anniversary.

The latest stage-to-screen adaptation following in the footsteps of Mamma Mia! and Rock of Ages, Sunshine on Leith springs from the Stephen Greenhorn-written hit first performed in 2007. With the scribe taking on scripting duties for his movie debut, the feature’s structure remains simple as befitting the style, ordering thirteen tracks into the slightest semblance of a predictable story. The former carries the sentiment and spirit, from a barroom rendition of Over and Done With that relishes the vibrant mood, to the tender crooning of Oh Jean that gives Mullan his best moment. The latter fills in the gaps in the most cursory manner possible, with dialogue just barely connecting the tunes together.

What keeps the film humming is its joyous embrace of the warmest and most well-meaning elements of the genre, as standard as it all may be. Though the opening sequence, establishing Davy and Ally’s military service as strikingly set to Sky Takes the Soul, shows the promise of surprise, the remainder paints by the musical numbers – albeit with infectious affection for its concept and forebears. The lack of depth is never in doubt, but it is dressed up in smile-worthy homages. A glorious strut down the street to the upbeat I’m on My Way recalls Singin’ in the Rain sans the stormy weather. A cathartic lovers’ clash in a communal space while belting out I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) bears more than a passing resemblance to the famous Grease bleachers scene, emotional crescendo and all.

As the many musical moments work their modest magic, the cast proves equally enthusiastic. None are stretched in any areas other than their vocal talents, but many show strength in playing against type. As he proved in last year’s much more sombre For Those in Peril, McKay boasts a commanding screen presence put here to lighter work, as perfectly contrasted against Guthrie’s brooding and Thomas’ yearning. Similarly known for darker fare, Mullan is moving with the meatiest storyline, prowling softly through the problems of life-long love with the always-enjoyable Horrocks.

In his second directorial effort after 2011’s Wild Boys, Press Gang and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels actor turned filmmaker Dexter Fletcher also openly enjoys the merriment, stitching the songs together with the glowing aesthetic of the film’s Proclaimer’s-track title, and surveying the eponymous setting in a manner akin to a Scottish tourism commercial. Basking in the brightness he conjures is easy and undemanding, but the fun isn’t thoroughly fulfilling. Tapping the toes may tide everything over in typical jukebox musical fashion; however the rousing revelry can’t hide a flimsy plot and obvious formula.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Sunshine on Leith
Director: Dexter Fletcher
UK, 2013, 100 minutes

Release date: May 22, 2014
Distributor: eOne
Rating:  PG

Sarah Ward
About the Author
Sarah Ward is a freelance film critic, arts and culture writer, and film festival organiser. She is the Australia-based critic for Screen International, a film reviewer and writer for ArtsHub, the weekend editor and a senior writer for Concrete Playground, a writer for the Goethe-Institut Australien’s Kino in Oz, and a contributor to SBS, SBS Movies and Flicks Australia. Her work has been published by the Australian Centre for the Moving Image, Junkee, FilmInk, Birth.Movies.Death, Lumina, Senses of Cinema, Broadsheet, Televised Revolution, Metro Magazine, Screen Education and the World Film Locations book series. She is also the editor of Trespass Magazine, a film and TV critic for ABC radio Brisbane, Gold Coast and Sunshine Coast, and has worked with the Brisbane International Film Festival, Queensland Film Festival, Sydney Underground Film Festival and Melbourne International Film Festival. Follow her on Twitter: @swardplay