Once

I know “Once” technically gets labeled as a musical, but if you’re expecting show-stopping choreography and splashy production numbers, you’ll be pretty disappointed. What you get instead is something subtle and a little raw: a stripped-back Irish love story wrapped around an acoustic indie soundtrack. The movie came out in 2007 and, to this day, I think its biggest strength is how completely unself-conscious it feels. There’s almost a documentary vibe - low budget, hand-held camera, and actors who actually seem like real people you could run into on the street in Dublin.

The story is incredibly basic on paper: “Guy” (Glen Hansard) is a heartbroken busker who meets “Girl” (Markéta Irglová), a Czech immigrant who’s got her own complicated past. What follows is less a romance in the traditional sense and more a deep, fleeting connection forged by making music together. “Falling Slowly” is the obvious highlight, and hearing it performed in the music shop scene absolutely wrecks me every time. It’s earnest without being cheesy, and it kind of hits on that thing where music can shortcut almost all the awkwardness between two strangers.

But what makes “Once” really work is its honesty. There’s a quiet messiness to all the interactions - the stilted conversations, awkward pauses, missed opportunities. These two people are kind to each other, but they’re also both weighed down by real baggage. Watching them navigate their own hopes and disappointments feels strangely cathartic. It helps that Hansard and Irglová aren't really professional actors, and it shows in the best way. They're tentative, slightly awkward, and their chemistry feels like something that grew organically, not out of an audition room.

Pacing-wise, I’ll admit it’s a slow burn. The film lingers a lot: long walks down dimly lit Dublin streets, scenes that just soak in atmosphere or let a song stretch out for the full three or four minutes. You have to be willing to hang out in its quiet spaces. For some people, that’ll come off as meandering or self-indulgent, but for me, it’s kind of the point. It feels like a meandering Saturday afternoon with someone you’re maybe falling for.

The cinematography is nothing flashy, but that’s by design. It’s all muted colors and streetlights, giving Dublin this grounded, almost underdog beauty. There’s no attempt to romanticize poverty or the grind of working-class life. One shot that stuck with me is Girl pushing a broken vacuum cleaner down the street at night, headphones on, just lost in her own world. It’s such a small, specific moment, but it tells you everything about her.

In terms of flaws, the movie risks being a little too slight for its own good. If you peel back the songs, there isn’t much to the actual plot. The characters don’t get big, melodramatic arcs; they kind of stay in their own lanes, gently influencing each other for a few days before drifting apart again. If you’re someone who wants clear resolutions, you might walk away frustrated. The ending is as understated as the rest of the film, and it won’t please everyone.

Still, “Once” hits an emotional vein that a lot of glossier musicals completely miss. There’s joy here, but it’s fleeting and bittersweet. The film handles loneliness in such a gentle, humane way, never veering into self-pity. You get the sense the director (John Carney) loves these characters, flaws and all, and just wants to give them a few days in the sun before real life moves on. The low-fi sound, the street busking, and the language gaps all add up to something unique - it’s a story about connection without the usual Hollywood shortcuts.

All in all, “Once” is a tiny movie with a big emotional punch. If you’re in the mood for something soft and sincerely felt, it’s worth tracking down. It won’t bowl you over with spectacle, but if you’ve ever had a fleeting connection with someone through music, it’ll land in your chest, quietly and precisely.