There are certain filmmakers whose work creates a strange kind of nervous excitement before the movie even begins. John Carney is absolutely one of them. I will be honest here. I feel anxious and nervous every single time I walk into one of his films because the expectations are so ridiculously high. After Once, Begin Again, and Sing Street, the bar is not just high. It feels almost impossible to clear.
Ten minutes into Flora and Son, I could already feel my brain racing ahead toward the final musical number that might arrive eighty minutes later. There is pressure. So much pressure. You sit there wondering whether the emotional crescendo will land, whether the music will stick with you, whether Carney will once again find that perfect harmony between story and song.
Thankfully, the musical gods were clearly smiling on this one because John Carney does not disappoint. I genuinely hope he never does.
Flora and Son is another feel good winner from Carney. It is messy, warm, funny, and deeply sincere in the way only his films tend to be. At its core, the story is wonderfully simple. Flora, played with infectious chaos by Eve Hewson, is a struggling single mother in Dublin who is trying to figure out how to connect with her rebellious teenage son Max. In an attempt to steer him away from trouble, she brings home a battered acoustic guitar. Ironically, Max has no interest in it, which leads Flora to pick it up herself. Soon she finds herself taking online guitar lessons from a laid back musician in Los Angeles played by Joseph Gordon Levitt.
From there the film becomes exactly what you might expect from a John Carney movie. It is full of guitar notes, heartwarming cuddles, and genuine love. Music becomes the language that slowly rebuilds a broken family dynamic. It becomes the bridge between people who feel emotionally distant. And perhaps most importantly, it becomes the thing that allows these characters to rediscover parts of themselves they had quietly buried.
One of the joys of the film is watching the creative process unfold in small moments. Flora fumbling through chords. Lyrics forming awkwardly at first before suddenly clicking into place. There is something deeply charming about the way Carney captures these creative sparks. He understands that songwriting can often feel clumsy and uncertain before it becomes something meaningful.
Eve Hewson carries the film with remarkable ease. Flora is loud, impulsive, flawed, and often completely chaotic, yet Hewson finds a warmth beneath the rough edges that makes the character impossible not to root for. There is a raw authenticity to her performance that grounds the film even when the narrative occasionally drifts into familiar territory.
Joseph Gordon Levitt provides a relaxed and charming counterbalance as the long distance guitar teacher. Much of their relationship unfolds through screens and video calls, yet Carney manages to create a surprisingly convincing sense of emotional intimacy between them. It helps that both actors lean into the sincerity of the story rather than playing it for irony.
The real emotional backbone of the film, however, lies in the relationship between Flora and her son. Their dynamic feels messy and honest in a way that avoids easy sentimentality. They argue, misunderstand each other, and stumble through moments of frustration, but beneath all of that chaos there is an undeniable love that keeps pulling them back together.
Musically, the film delivers plenty of soulful and catchy numbers. While there may not be a single track that immediately burrows into your brain the way some songs from Carney’s earlier films did, the music still carries a heartfelt energy that feels true to the story being told. It serves the characters rather than trying to overpower them.
What continues to make Carney’s films special is his unwavering belief in the power of creativity. For him, music is not just a soundtrack element. It is a lifeline. It is the thing that allows people to connect across emotional distance, across generations, and even across continents.
Watching this film also comes with a small sense of frustration that has nothing to do with the story itself. It is honestly a shame that Flora and Son never received a proper theatrical run in the United States. Apple gave the film a brief one week release in a handful of theaters. Here in Los Angeles it amounted to just two theaters with a limited number of screenings. That feels incredibly disappointing for a film that thrives on the communal joy of music and laughter.
And yet, even within the confines of streaming, the film still manages to work its quiet magic.
There were moments while watching this where I found myself unexpectedly tearing up. Not out of sadness, but out of genuine affection for the characters and the music they create together. There is something deeply comforting about the world Carney builds in his films. They remind us that art does not have to be perfect to matter. Sometimes it just needs to be honest.
By the time the credits rolled, I had a huge smile on my face.
Flora and Son may not reach the soaring heights of Sing Street or Once, but it still stands as a lovely, heartfelt addition to John Carney’s growing catalogue of music driven storytelling. It is warm, sincere, and quietly uplifting.
Sometimes that is exactly the kind of film we need.
Comments