I have a soft spot for road movies, especially buddy road movies. Two people stuck in a car or on a train, bus, or plane, trying to reach their objective and making the time pass by just being friends. Of course, there’ll come a time when they’ll split for a little bit—maybe because someone’s getting on the other’s nerves, or they suddenly find something new on their journey that causes the division, or someone gets arrested (like Harold in Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle). More often than not, they’ll get back together and finish the journey in bold style. The buddy comedy usually has the most predictable plot contrivances, but they’re irresistible to me. I just love watching people taking the time to make time with their friends, no matter how normal, weird, or completely screwed up the film turns out.
This said, is it any surprise that I liked The Spin, a film about a pair of record shop co-owners who need to buy a trove of extremely valuable records to keep their store from closing? No surprise at all—I loved it. There’s an air of improv that gives this movie a breezy, unplanned feel, lending believability to the duo of Dermot (Brenock O’Connor) and Elvis (Owen Colgan). What I like about them the most is that they’re just regular guys with regular troubles. Dermot’s on the outs with his girlfriend Rose (Maura Higgins), his acoustic bar gigs aren’t going so well, and Elvis’ ex-wife doesn’t want him breaking their daughter’s heart by making promises he can’t keep. Never mind that their rent at the shop has gone unpaid for three (or is it four?) months, and their landlord Sadie (Tara Lynne O’Neill) is practically frothing at the mouth to sell the space.
Writer Colin Broderick (working from a short story by Mark McCausland) gives the film its greatest gift: zero outsize personalities. There’s no high drama, no backbiting (except for Sadie’s deception and greed), no hijinks-for-hijinks’-sake; this is an almost documentary-like look at two men trying to make the best of their situation. Hurting for money—even for so much as a pint at the pub—Dermot sees an online ad for someone selling a crate of extremely rare vinyl for the low price of £30. Some of these records are rumored to fetch tens of thousands of pounds sterling, thereby relieving them of their money woes and putting them in much better positions, both personally and professionally.
Dermot might be considered a little quicker off the mark than Elvis, but that’s not to say Elvis is the blundering type; he’s just more ruled by his heart than his head, and he’s a little more thoughtful. This slight difference in personality gives their friendship its kick, augmented by their fierce loyalty to each other and the collective sense of humor they share. Neither are argumentative, blowing off the little things (like Elvis losing his wallet in a chicken coop) and rather enjoying each other’s company on the picturesque trip from Omagh to Cork. Owing to their lack of funds, neither has a smartphone with a map app, so they’ve planned out a route that takes them a good couple of days to get down to Cork in their sturdy Vauxhall.
But it’s less the destination and more the journey that director Michael Head wants us to sink ourselves into. It’s not very harried or hurried; they’re having a leisurely drive west and south, comically looping back in a few places, but moving ever forward. Cinematographer Sebastian Cort must have had a hell of a time trying to make the most of the Irish cloudy days, but he captures the richness of the land in his frames, from forests to seashores, that imparts a subtle yearning and a solemnity of spirit that exists in the hills and roads by which Dermot and Elvis travel. Half of the movie’s pleasure is seeing their surroundings; it’s not like they can take the highways straight to Cork, and these rural roads provide so much color—literally and figuratively—that adds to the enveloping nature of their journey.
This drive is punctuated by the kind of conversations you have when you need to keep your buddy awake at the wheel, but they never devolve into anything untoward; they don’t glory in the prospect of the crate of records that’ll make them rich, and they don’t treat people as less-than. Dermot and Elvis are portrayed as the ultimate salt of the earth, good guys just trying to make their way, and it’s not hard to fall in line with them, especially with how endearing Brenock O’Connor and Owen Colgan make their characters. The only time they really take advantage of anyone is shown as a setup for laughs, and even then, the promise of repayment is spoken aloud, and we believe them.
Broderick’s script dots this duo’s journey with pleasant characters who come in and out of their lives as abruptly as they would in reality. Likewise, these characters aren’t out for any shenanigans, even though one might be written for titillating purposes; everyone in this film (save Sadie) has a good heart, and it’s an excellent change of pace from similarly-plotted movies that drop the worst of humanity on the main characters to fill their journey with more obstacles. Both run into kindred musical spirits, and although Dermot and Elvis’ friendship is solid, we see them in their respective elements with these folks that they encounter. Interestingly, it’s these two encounters that will define them for the rest of the movie, even unto the late mid-credits scene (it appears alongside the music credits). It’s not a totally spiteful redefinition; it’s more the chance to break out and to do something big, and the resulting difference between the two kicks off the aforementioned divide that must be included in these kinds of films.
However, Michael Head’s purpose is not to be stereotypical or worn. Even though The Spin—so named after the “Gone For a Wee Spin” sign Dermot and Elvis hang on their shuttered storefront (and alluding to, well, records!)—might have familiar constructs, they’re filled with lighthearted, airy friendship and well-positioned spots of humor and humanity. This is an easy movie to fall in love with, owing to its no-nonsense-yet-all-nonsense nature. It’s just two people driving toward a destination and meeting people on the way that will change their lives forever, and throughout, we’re reminded through both action and word that kindness is the beating heart of this film. It’s evident throughout, even in a bitter phone call Dermot makes; when ugliness does rear its head, it stands out as extreme, even though no specific act of violence is shown (it’s only comically heard). So rare is a movie completely shot through with levity and kindness like this, and The Spin is a wonderful respite from <<waves hands frenetically at ALL OF THIS>>, bearing such a large amount of goodwill that you won’t be able to stop smiling when you think about it.
