Or to put it another way, film editing is really quite important while essentially remaining invisible to an audience (the way we film editors like it). Credit for that particular contribution usually defaults to the director. As we’re on this subject, kudos to film editor Quin Williams. Only the filmmakers know who was responsible for what but as this film started as a short (The One and Only Herb McGwyer Plays Wallis Island), one that aggressively nudged relevant ribs to become a feature, its creative DNA was already divided equally between the writers Tom Basden and Tim Key and the director James Griffiths. Even more credit has to go to Basden and Key as the principal actors in this gentle, yearning work that never teeters into outright romantic sentiment. It’s less of a rom-com and more of a confectionary, a sweet tale, a ‘con-rom’ if you like. And I did, very much. And after a report in the press that this unlikeliest of box office champs is doing quite well, thank you, so do many others.

I had an early heads up from a recent house guest, a great friend from my old home town, who prompted me to write the title down and wait until it turned up locally. He was very taken with it and thought it a great fit with my own tastes and sensibilities. He wasn’t wrong. It’s a simple film to summarise; widowed millionaire Charles Heath lives on an isolated British island, plays tennis on his own (I know, how does that work?) so his serve has come along nicely, and listens to the golden age albums of a folk group known as McGwyer and Mortimer, huge in their time over a decade ago. Their music is and was profoundly important to Charles and his deceased wife. Given this, he decides to tempt singer Herb McGwyer over to the island to perform a concert. The lure is half a million pounds. What Herb doesn’t know is that Charles is good-natured but nervous and a little odd due to his solitary lifestyle and overwhelming love of the duo’s music. Nor does Herb realise that his ex-wife and singing partner, Nell Mortimer, is also on her way to the island with her new husband enticed by a significant sum… Needless to say – tempted not to finish this sentence – old flames flicker and new ones are gently encouraged to spark into life.

Charles’ idiosyncrasies, ‘dad-joke’ inspired turns of phrase and genial talent for annoyance are, on the whole, very entertaining. Actor Tim Key is to be given boat loads of credit for playing something of an irritant without irritating the audience. He shows us that the way he is, is borne of nervousness, his garrulous nature running away with him at the excitement of having his idol on his island. Playing against this surprise of a man is Herb, a once successful folk singer whose previous life at least allows him the expectation of a non-existent jetty on which to disembark (he ends up in the ocean on arrival from a motor-assisted rowing boat) and a decent hotel from which to make a base. Instead, he’s a guest of Charles and therefore is staying in Charles’ house. Tom Basden has the good looks, the voice and believable guitar craft to be a completely authentic, once-famous folk singer. His performance is driven by a continual let down in expectations. Clothed in Charles’ uncool garb including a McGwyer and Mortimer T-shirt as his own clothes are drying off, he bumbles from one surprise to another until he has to accept his circumstances. He has no choice but to work with Charles whom he unfairly labels as “a sap” and jokes that he may “…wake up with no ankles…” Now this last reference may catch a few people out but we must conclude that while Charles if Herb’s ‘greatest fan’, Herb is neither a fan of Stephen King’s book nor necessarily director Rob Reiner’s movie adaptation of Misery.** His remark cunningly merges the literary and cinematic fate of hero Paul Sheldon’s ankles and feet. Of course, over time Charles’ character grows on Herb but his patience is tested when he realises that his ex-wife is walking up the beach with her new American husband, Andrew an avid birdwatcher. The past is turning up to greet him anew and everything old may not necessarily be new again.

Charles could not have one without the other, the equivalent of inviting Cher and not Sonny. Ah, that may have worked out quite well, actually. As Nell settles in taking great amusement from Charles, Herb concentrates on his ex-wife and how they might mend their broken relationship. Nell is played by Carey Mulligan, a talented actress with a twinkle in her eye who began to shine in of all places David Tenant era’s Doctor Who. I’ve been a fan of hers since her 22 year-old star turn in Blink, one of the more successful and scary episodes of the revival of the show. She has made some interesting and dark choices in her career and it’s a real joy to see her – at last – having fun as a character who has obviously moved on a lot further than her ex, Herb. Despite the foreshadowing of her husband Andrew’s enthusiasm for birds, the film takes a risk engineering his absence for a whole day and night while Herb and Nell work on their set together. It signals one of two things; Andrew’s confidence in the love he shares with his wife and that the ex-famous singer’s charms will not be enough to tempt her back into his arms, or Andrew’s naivete that this could be an option. The screenplay is on his side though, despite him being elbowed out of the way so that the risk of flame re-ignition can be dallied with. Andrew is played by Akemnji Ndifornyen who brings a wide-eyed American enthusiasm and gusto to the role and in traditional rom-coms, he’d be the guy in the way. Not here which is refreshing. I’m happy to report that the film navigates deftly around a number of rom-com bear traps waiting to snare the unambitious writer. The petulant tit-for-tat argument the two get into at their first evening meal is very nicely judged as both McGwyer and Mortimer have valid points to make. There are many more metaphorical rocks to navigate but we’re allowed to see the effortless ease of their performing together. The fifth member of the small ensemble is shopkeeper Amanda played by Sian Clifford last seen by myself as Phoebe Waller Bridge’s sister in Fleabag. Charles has a yen for her but is still grieving for his wife, so he too needs a mighty push to move on.

The film looks like it’s been wholly shot – beautifully by cinematographer G. Magni Ágústsson – on a glorious island location which in truth turns out to be the Welsh coast and with a selected Welsh island standing in for Wallis in the isolated long shots. The magnificently moody skies over the sea in a few shots put me in mind of Davis Lean agonising over the position of the clouds for some shots in Ryan’s Daughter and waiting unreasonable hours to capture them but as principal photography was completed in a staggering 18 days, I assume no clouds were waited for. Having shot a similarly one hour and forty feature in 20 days, I know how hard that can be. Director James Griffiths opts correctly for simplicity in staging and knows how to stay well out of the way of his talented cast.

Finally, a very personal reflection. Charles’ love of word play and puns is mirrored with my own and I can just as irritating to friends and family because of it. But when he chivvied his guests to bed with the phrase “Climb the wooden hill,” I was six years old again with my father using the same words. I wonder if that phrase has a Welsh origin? No luck with ten seconds of research. The fact Charles added “to Bedfordshire,” was a silly pun my father never added, amusing as it was.

The Ballad of Wallis Island is a charming story about people stuck in their own history and how being open to kind, albeit idiosyncratic people, can help them move on and in turn mirror that help back to its source. Sentimental? Yes, of course but it doesn’t travel in an expected straight line and where the film deviates from traditional rom-com cliché is where most of its pleasures lie. Do you need a smile and a few laughs with a twinge of melancholy, then off you go to Wallis Island.

* https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/inside-making-ballad-wallis-island-223516544.html

** Paul Sheldon, the bedridden hero of Stephen King’s book Misery is at the mercy of ‘his greatest fan’, psychotic serial killer, Annie Wilkes. To stop him from going where he is not supposed to, she (ahem) axes and blowtorches one of his feet off at the ankle. The filmmakers were a mite concerned about this extraordinary brutality and feared it would kill the film, so they opted for sledgehammering both ankles! It’s an unforgettable scene and visually, the key shot lasts a mere 21 frames for ankle number one and you don’t see her take out number two. James Caan’s screams of pain do that job well enough.