The stage origins are obvious from the small, tight-knit cast to some inevitable across-the-farm-kitchen-table conversations, though that’s no bad thing in itself. Wild Mountain Thyme is based on Shanley’s own play Outside Mullingar, its characters based on his Irish relatives. Marry him, Rosemary! Rosemary (Emily Blunt) and Adam (Jon Hamm) Naturally Adam arrives for a visit, a blast of smooth American moneyed sophistication, flirting uncomfortably with Rosemary and making Anthony feel even worse. It doesn’t seem the worst issue that can arise between neighbours, though when Tony tries to buy it back Rosemary is in no mood to sell.Īnthony’s discomfort with his life doesn’t stop his devastation when Tony (Christopher Walken) announces he’s selling the family farm to Adam rather than leaving it to Anthony. It cuts across Tony’s own right of way, so anyone visiting the Reillys must get out, open two gates, drive through then get out to close them again, come rain or shine, I mean rain or drizzle. That small strip of land creates an ongoing scratchiness between the two farming families. Rosemary’s frustrations over Anthony’s refusal to actually see her anew seem less about true love and more that he’s conveniently local and a known quantity. Anthony comes across as someone always slightly out of place, existing in a cloud of permanent slight bafflement, not unlike me watching this.ĭornan is rather touching as the socially awkward young farmer, though he has zero chemistry with Blunt, which is probably why I was rooting for her to run off with Jon Hamm, who plays Anthony’s suave American cousin Adam. She is more frustrated than he, stuck as he is with an enduring sense that he doesn’t belong: as a farmer, and on the farm. The (five) bar to true love: Anthony (Jamie Dornan) and Rosemary (Emily Blunt)įarmers Anthony Reilly (Jamie Dornan) and Rosemary Muldoon (Emily Blunt), separated by some lush green fields and a seemingly unbridgeable emotional gulf, spend decades not getting together obstacles in their way including but not limited to a mild-sounding dispute over a strip of land once sold by Anthony’s dad Tony to Rosemary’s father Chris.

It’s set now, sort of, though it’s also old-fashioned. In fact the whole film is overly timid, a shrinking violet that doesn’t really know what to do with its quirks: it’s not funny enough, romantic enough, or indeed odd enough.

Its main problem is not its whimsy, but that there simply isn’t enough of it. This is a weird love story, and gossamer-thin. The film is now finally out in the UK, but is it mint or a load of old borage? A reason to be chervil or one to be kept at bay? Did I, dear reader, lovage or hate it? (Sorrel not sorrel.) The Irish accents came in for a lot of stick too, with Variety reporting writer-director John Patrick Shanley defending his actors, saying “You have to make the accent more accessible to a global audience”. When the leprechaun stans think you’re overdoing it, you should probably listen. Even The National Leprechaun Museum complained on Twitter that it was all too much. The Wild Mountain Thyme trailer came out last year to general merriment (which to be fair we needed) at the grimly-determined, overegged Irishness of it. Two young farmers in Ireland argue over a small strip of land and fail to realise they are meant for each other…

Thyme movie