The Outrun
The Outrun
6.982%82%
After living life on the edge in London, Rona attempts to come to terms with her troubled past. She returns to the wild beauty of Scotland's Orkney Islands - where she grew up - hoping to heal. Adapted from the bestselling memoir by Amy Liptrot.
Kevin Ward reviewedJuly 1, 2025
The Outrun is a beautifully crafted adaptation of Amy Liptrot’s memoir, elevated by the remarkable performance of Saoirse Ronan. The film follows Rona, who returns to her childhood home on Orkney at thirty, still reeling from a period of self-destruction in London. Alcohol had become her anchor, pulling her deeper until she found herself back on the shores of the remote islands she had once longed to escape.
I was initially leery of the film's non-linear structure. It’s a narrative structure that is often used purely to withhold a dramatic twist—a sudden revelation from the past that recontextualizes everything that precedes it. Fortunately, that isn't the case here. Instead, the fragmented storytelling mirrors the reflective style of a memoir, with memories drifting in and out as Rona slowly reconciles her troubled past with her present efforts to heal.
We follow her through a daily rhythm of cold morning plunges into the North Sea, where the frigid water jolts her awake, and long days spent volunteering with the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, observing Orkney’s unique wildlife and surveying the endangered corncrake intercut with flashbacks of her blackout drunken nights at the London clubs, always returning back to the powerful serenity of Orkney. It’s a contemplative portrait of the long road to recovery.
Aesthetically, the coastal landscapes are stunning and reflective of the peaceful, meditative tone. There's no rush toward a destination, just Rona coming to grips with her addiction and discovering how to live in recovery. Saoirse Ronan is revelatory…again. Her performance subtly shifts depending on where we are in Rona’s journey, with minor changes in her posture and expressions conveying the ebb and flow of addiction. The film invites the audience to sit with Rona’s moments of pain, healing, and clarity as if standing with her at the cliff's edge, gazing out at the sea stacks.
It’s a mood piece, for sure. But if the mood strikes you, you might just be swept away by Ronan’s performance and the raw beauty of the Scottish Isles.