A fanboy’s dream wryly collides with reality in The Ballad Of Wallis Island

That’s a mixed blessing. While the constant nervous wordplay streaming out of superfan Charles, like water spewing from one of his home’s busted faucets, eventually wins one over, and while the bitterness of Herb’s pathetic sellout sets the stage for him to rediscover his passion, the strength of the central duo shoves the rest of the film out of the spotlight. Not that there’s much to shove. Aside from the bandmates and their patron, the rocky island only really has one resident: a shopkeeper (Sian Clifford) whose store is almost stocked with useful goods. She’s good for a gag or two, and becomes the shoehorned object of Charles’ affections after a bit of badgering from the band, but she and Michael are more naked narrative devices than characters. 

More disappointingly, this same malady afflicts Nell. Though Mulligan’s character—healthily moved on from her musical past compared to Herb—ribs her grumpy old flame and pals around more generously with her benefactor, her sad smiles and easy grace merely form an unflattering reflection of Herb rather than another full member of the story. This, the film argues, is how one should act after their 15 minutes of fame has lapsed. But even in The Ballad Of Wallis Island’s more inelegant script developments, there’s a refreshing maturity. Michael’s ridiculously abrupt exit from the film obviously opens up the question of the musicians’ past romance, but Nell and Herb navigate their bittersweet past realistically. Good memories bridge over old wounds, and that brief resurrection of feeling leads the more lonesome party astray. This kind of contained rekindling isn’t unfamiliar, but Mulligan and Basden play it well, balancing Key’s silly torrents of so-bad-it’s-good comedy with worn-out humanity. But even Key taps into tenderness, finally letting his elastic face settle into stillness when hearing the band play in front of him for the first time.

That earnestness extends to the music itself. Written by Basden, the folk songs toe the line between amusingly of-its-folk-rock-era and genuinely enjoyable. Basden and Mulligan’s harmonies are delicate and careful as they shake off the cobwebs, and the lyrics echo the likes of Johnny Flynn or Mumford & Sons without parodying them. This nostalgic charm, wistful with age, is such a key component of The Ballad Of Wallis Island that it’s shocking to remember that the film began as a short almost 20 years ago. The snappy sketch-like premise has weathered into a more contemplative and sentimental reckoning with artistry and identity; even Charles’ well-honed banter takes on a more desperate, relatable dimension coming from an older, sadder goofball.

But even in its age-mellowed form, The Ballad Of Wallis Island never fully gives into its worst impulses as a feel-good midlife crisis dramedy. This fable’s push to meet, then fix, your heroes can still sound as saccharine as a solo acoustic set, but it’s smart enough to undercut itself early and often. Basden and Key’s relentless comedy, which drapes its dense weave of verbal clunkers over some refreshingly simple slapstick, keeps things spry while the setting—a charming Welsh mansion and a craggy coastline—makes the film a far more pleasant trip than other indies of its ilk.

Director: James Griffiths
Writer: Tom Basden, Tim Key
Starring: Tim Key, Tom Basden, Carey Mulligan
Release Date: March 28, 2025