On A Clear Day

On paper, On A Clear Day sounds like a sure-fire bet for dreariest movie of the year. Set in Glasgow (here we go) against a backdrop of mourning, shipyard closure and barfly depression, Gaby Dellal’s debut feature charts Peter Mullan’s quest for post-redundancy dignity by swimming the English Channel.
Haunted by the drowning of his child decades earlier and estranged from his surviving son, Mullan’s foolhardy aquatic ambitions are cheered on by a Full Monty gang of similarly unlucky blokes; Billy Boyd’s cheeky young pup, a scowling Sean McGinley and the much put-upon owner of the local greaseball Chinese takeaway.
Meanwhile, as if to emphasise the ordinariness of those depicted, Mullan’s wife (Blethyn, bouncy as ever) has lofty dreams of being a bus driver.
Like I said, it sounds thoroughly miserable, but Dellal strikes a happy note between saccharine working-class fairytale and urban banality; the beer-based male bonding is genuinely affecting, the characters are decent company and Glasgow has never looked less oppressive.
Still, I found myself getting very annoyed with On A Clear Day’s very effective schmaltz when the resulting snivelling put mascara stains on my skirt.