Hear My Song

Hear My Song is a likeable romantic comedy that gets away with most of its fussing, largely because Adrian Dunbar and Ned Beatty give it people worth watching. Peter Chelsom directs as though a search for a singer ought to be enough to restore anyone’s faith in human nature. There is something appealing about that confidence, even when it becomes a little wearing. The film’s pleasures are fairly modest, and it is strongest when it remembers to leave them that way.

Dunbar’s Micky O’Neill is a club owner looking for singer Josef Locke, a premise that leaves plenty of room for a performer to become tiresome. Dunbar avoids that by making Micky’s enthusiasm seem personal, with an awkwardness beneath the charm. Tara Fitzgerald, as Nancy Doyle, is a welcome presence because her appeal is less strenuous. Chelsom and Dunbar’s screenplay benefits from actors who can make the romance engaging without insisting that every exchange be adorable.

Beatty’s Josef Locke makes the search worth following. His expansive comic performance gives substance to a singer who might otherwise struggle to justify the attention being paid to him. We warmed to Beatty almost at once, because he seems to take such uncomplicated pleasure in being Locke. He makes the film’s affection for the character easy to share. When he is on screen, Chelsom can ease off and let an actor amuse us.

Sue Gibson’s cinematography makes the Irish passages inviting without letting the scenery become the whole attraction. The people still matter, and the film retains a sense of being interested in whoever might come into view next. Caroline Hanania’s production design gives the club enough character to matter alongside the people in it. These surroundings help make Micky’s working life worth caring about, rather than merely somewhere to begin the search.

Martin Walsh’s editing is good at letting a comic performance finish its business before moving on. There is a pleasing lack of panic about whether a joke has registered, and that gives the actors some freedom. John Altman’s music is more willing to encourage the romance, which usually suits Chelsom’s approach. When the sentiment grows heavier, though, the score offers too little restraint; we do not need quite so much encouragement to feel fond of these people.

The problem comes when Chelsom presses too hard for affection. The fanciful approach can excuse a fair amount, but some passages seem more concerned with ensuring our approval than letting these people surprise us. Dunbar and Fitzgerald have already made the romance appealing; further insistence only makes it feel less spontaneous. At 104 minutes, this is hardly a long film, yet its repeated bids for tenderness make parts of it feel overextended.

Small-scale romantic comedies need room for eccentric behaviour, and we would not want Chelsom to tidy this one into something sensible. His willingness to let the search grow fanciful belongs comfortably within the genre, even if a firmer hand would have helped with the sentiment. Save it for an evening when a cheerful comedy sounds welcome and nobody is likely to object to a little coaxing.