Back in 2014, I had one of those great Januaries that every aspiring film critic seeks to have. Like most people, I found myself in Park City, UT ready to participate in The Sundance Film Festival. While I was so much of a beginner that I ended up having to commute from Salt Lake City at the bottom of the mountain every day, I got to experience the year that brought us Whiplash (2014) and Boyhood (2014). It was the indie boom that would later dominate The Academy Awards, and while I didn’t see either of those films until much later, I did enjoy flying by the seat of my pants seeing everything from Blind (2014) and The Sleepwalker (2014) to Camp X-Ray (2014), Life is Strange (2014), and Dear White People (2014). At the end of the day, I could’ve planned better, but I loved the experience.
And one of the greatest parts was standing in line under a heated tent. It wasn’t so much the anticipation of discovering the next darling, but to hear what everyone else was talking about. Some people argued the merits of Space Jam (1996) while others were closer to a professional opinion, like what was bound to be picked up. Among the funnier moments that I experienced was finding two guys talking about how they were going to see God Help the Girl (2014), but figured that it would be much too twee.
Sure, it’s a common joke you get when dealing with a Belle & Sebastian musical. If you haven’t had the pleasure of listening to director Stuart Murdoch’s band who contributed the entire soundtrack, then I have trouble determining if you’re missing out. He’s one of those songwriters who has such a tender heart that it’s almost too easy to parody. Is his abrupt lyric shift for comedic effect, or is he lacking a deeper self-awareness? Whatever the case may be, the music has grown on me, and by the point that I saw God Help the Girl months later, I realized how much better it was than just about any contemporary musical.
That may be facetious. I am aware that if you go through Letterboxd at this moment, there is an alarming amount of negative reviews. On the one hand, I understand where they’re getting at. It definitely is a twee musical designed like several dazzling music videos stapled together over a paper-thin plot. Also, the songs are an acquired taste. Still, you’re talking to someone who watched Juno (2007) and thought “I want to be like Diablo Cody!” I am used to unleashing your inner joy, even if it comes out in ways that will find the crowd judging you, finding it absurd that you’re just enough against the grain to rub some people the wrong way. Still, how do you argue with those harmonies? They’re just so beautiful.
To better clarify my statement, I tend to be very nitpicky about movie musicals. Even if I eventually like them for what they convey, there is something disappointing about them compared to the classics. It’s in how the songs are used, the choreography composed in the shot. I frankly feel like the early 2010s was a dead time for quality musicals, and Murdoch’s take works because it’s a fully realized version of what a Belle & Sebastian musical could be. As much as it dips much too often into fantasy, it’s all done in a way to show how music is used as escapism, finding something deep inside your soul that needs to be expressed.
What makes it especially interesting is that amid a tale as old as time, there is a compelling twist in protagonist Eve (Emily Browning). Eve is hospitalized following her struggles with anorexia and feelings of hopelessness. Her only solace comes from writing music that expresses her inner struggles. Still, she is alone in the world listening to radio DJ’s talking about classic rock, such as in the opening when they discuss the value of Nick Drake. Even if these characters are rarely central to the narrative, they’re the motivation for Eve to make music. She wants to get on the radio, but first, she needs a band.
There’s idealist James (Olly Alexander) who has his own theories on how to make a hit song. He believes that it only takes one hit to be God-tier, and he dreams of getting there. However, he also feels like settling for a record that he likes is better, especially after facing gigs where he’s in fistfights. Whereas Eve may just large aspirations, it feels like James may be closer to Murdoch’s world view, especially in how he has a quaint approach to making art. Anyone who has listened to the soundtrack will know how intricate every note is, even featuring Cassie (Hannah Murray, a.k.a. Gilly of Game of Thrones) at one point breaking melody to comically say “Ouch!” in response to a lyric about pricking her finger. James is so fragile that he constantly jokes about getting into fights and you know, quite frankly, he’d be murdered on the first punch.
Again, there’s not a lot of story from here. It’s mostly about three friends over the course of one summer trying to make a band that’s more than themselves. James is the stargazer, strumming an acoustic guitar and believing that there’s a blueprint to make everything happen – but not necessarily to make it successful. He is a contradiction of himself, and he finds something cathartic in Eve, his muse. She is the one who writes the lyrics and Murdoch does an impressive job of making every line actually work.
That is a major difference between God Help the Girl and, to be more specific, jukebox musicals. I generally do not like this subgenre because it’s more designed to be mindless entertainment. Murdoch at least tries to make these songs work within the fabric of his universe with a band that may be a fictional interpretation of Belle & Sebastian. They’re young and full of hope, and there is a joy to watching them perform. Every moment is a chance to break out into song and just enjoy life. There is no doubt that Murdoch loves music to the point of escapism. He even features a rather impressive Maria von Trappe reference within a scene clearly ripping off A Hard Day’s Night (1964).
He’s shameless in how much he loves culture and expression. The wardrobe in this film alone may have a thrift shop chic to everything, but it’s definitely a fun throwback to 60s fashion amid this Scottish landscape. They’re characters already designed to be out of place, and together they feel whole, able to be something more. Even scenes where they’re trying on clothes have this jubilance to them that you can’t help but enjoy. This film is such a visually distinct musical from beginning to end, and it’s definitely a bright spot in the genre.
Again, I accept that most of the song scenes are closer to music videos than plot progression, but I think it still informs the characters very well. When Eve and James sing “The Psychiatrist Is In,” there’s a cleverness to the simple choreography, finding James strumming a guitar while Eva dances in unison. While it’s not a big number, it’s one that conveys the two accepting Eve's psychiatric problems through dance. The choreography is practical, finding limited space not being a factor in how characters express themselves. Later on in “Eve in the Tub,” James spends the entire time pleading with Eve from outside a bathroom door. Murdoch fills the frame with a row of men, towering over him to reflect his meekness.
Also, this film is a masterful example of crossfades, constantly finding Eva performing straight-on before soft-cutting to a side profile. Midway through the song, Murdoch will cut to nature, or even feature intertitle writing. During the highlight of the whole film “I’ll Have to Dance to Cassie,” Eve is playing in a dancehall while a dog tracks down Cassie, who proceeds to hold a conversation with them before tossing her ice cream away to follow the dog. Never mind that this is followed by the biggest spectacle of the whole film, finding Cassie “dancing like a boxing kangaroo” before fun dance moves thrown in.
More than anything, Murdoch captures the pleasure that music can give us. When these three characters are together, there is hope and optimism that everything can work out. Thankfully, Murdoch’s songbook has enough going for it that it manages to pivot from delightful to something more contemplative. During “Musician, Please Take the Lead,” Eve is in the middle of personal conflict, tortured by Cassie’s talent overshadowing hers. As a result, Murray follows around Browning, creating this visual sense of overbearing stress.
Many may argue about the film’s depiction of anorexia. I will confess that I have no experience with it, though I would argue that Murdoch gives it enough seriousness. It’s difficult to say because the soundtrack is so subversive, finding even the sad songs sounding upbeat and kitschy. This means that establishing songs like “Pretty When the Wind Blows” may sound too happy for the moment. I think it reflects how music can give meaning and purpose to life. Given that James’ struggles of overcoming his own ego, it makes sense that Murdoch settles for using music as an umbrella cure for everything in the film.
Still, I look at God Help the Girl and see how I want musicals to be. There is something organic and personal about this approach, where the dancing and shot compositions actually dazzle, transitioning the viewer through these visual stimuli in such a way that you’re overwhelmed with joy. It’s artful in a simple way, and most of all commit to making the music sequences as purposeful as possible. The story of forming a band may be far from original, but the enthusiasm and naivety definitely carry the film to the finish line. So long as you like Belle & Sebastian, you can appreciate this quite a lot.
I’m not saying that it is the only great musical of the past decade, but it’s definitely one that reminds you about the value of craft and merit. Whereas certain movies like Begin Again (2014) and Sing Street (2016) blow their load on one major number, God Help the Girl ingrains the ethos and makes a lighthearted musical about mental health and how artists can use music to cope with their struggles. It’s maybe too nice and anticlimactic, but not every show needs to be earth-shattering. Here, it’s just a matter of being the geeky kid and feeling like you belong. To watch Murray perform with a smile on her face is to see the magic that Murdoch saw in this project.
For now, God Help the Girl feels like it will be relegated to be an obscure musical in world cinema. I doubt there will be enough of a universal appeal to change its reputation comes its 10th anniversary. However, it fits into a box like Starstruck (1982) and Golden Eighties (1986) of being these offbeat titles just waiting to be discovered. Those who find it may be even more surprised than I was in 2014, but hopefully it’s not just because they realize how great Browning and Murray have always been as actresses. If nothing else, it sets a decent bar for how jukebox musicals should be – complementary and not directive – and I can only hope it inspires a more creative generation to go even further.
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