The Ballad of Wallis Island
★★★★
It’s the kind of setup you’d expect from a horror film: a socially awkward fan invites his favorite folk musician to a remote island under murky pretenses. But instead of descending into dread, The Ballad of Wallis Island blooms into something far more tender and human—a story about music, memory and the quiet ways strangers can change each other’s lives.
Tim Key plays Charles, a well-meaning but off-kilter superfan who arranges what he calls a “private concert” with reclusive musician Herb McGwyer (played by Tom Basden). What Herb doesn’t know: this isn’t just a gig—it’s a reunion. On the island awaits Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan), Herb’s former bandmate and long-lost love.
At first, you’re right there with Herb, unsettled and unsure. Charles is hard to read. But as the layers peel back, so does the emotion. What starts as a slightly manipulative fan fantasy turns into a heartfelt attempt to heal old wounds. The film gradually widens its circle, introducing a few additional characters who help shift the tone from eerie to elegiac.
This is a film that lives in its quiet moments. Every scene feels lived in, the dialogue grounded in real emotion—funny, wistful and occasionally devastating. The setting—isolated, timeless Wallis Island—mirrors the characters’ emotional states: beautiful, haunted and holding on to the past.
And the music? Stunning. McGwyer & Mortimer may be fictional, but their songs feel like the kind of folk ballads passed down through generations. The soundtrack is deeply woven into the narrative and earns every emotional beat it’s asked to carry. It’s one of those treasured moments in film when a fictional band sounds as good as the characters say they are.
The comparisons to Once and Sing Street are inevitable, and earned. But Wallis Island has a slower, more reflective pace. It’s about people reckoning with the versions of themselves they left behind and wondering if it’s too late to start again.
Basden and Key’s script is intimate and layered, and as performers, their familiarity with the material shines through. Mulligan, as always, brings a depth and elegance that ties everything together—her presence is magnetic, even in stillness.
The ending is one of the most emotionally satisfying conclusions because it feels true. Bittersweet, generous, earned.
The Ballad of Wallis Island is a small film with a big heart. I hope people find it—because if you do, it just might find a place in your heart, too.
