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Indie Film Review “Sunshine Ukulele”

  

WATCH THE TRAILER AND FILM HERE

First, the Recap:

To feel you are in a state of relevance. Upon coming across certain roads in our lives, we oft might find ourselves striving to feel a part of something, especially when introduced to factors outside our normal scope of influence. While open to seek out ways to learn about anything new we might encounter, there can also be times where our search for the application of it to our lives becomes burdensome, even tedious, to the point of frustration and failure. For one little Irish boy named Philip (Aidan Jones), his days of relaxing with “Star Wars” and other activities in life is suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a package from his uncle–a ukulele.

Perplexed by this unexpected gift, Philip initially treats his new instrument with that same sense of bewildered wonder, simply plucking randomly on it in his room, engaged yet not. After a wholeheartedly vain search via phone calls to locate anyplace that teaches lessons for it, Philip has no choice but to turn to the one primary source for everything in the world–the internet.  What transpires is a kaleidoscopic expedition featuring a myriad of both old and new videos highlighting what now appears to be a highly popular instrument, played in a mass number of musical stylings. But, even when seeing contemporary artists playing live, amateur and professional, it all leads to one inexorable, dominant conclusion for Aidan.

Next, my Mind:

For this newest adventure amidst the ever-changing, ever-expanding, ever-experimenting world that is independent cinema, avant-garde Irish writer/director Graham Jones once again flexes his unconventional, innovative, left-field filmmaking skills in delivering this exposé about the loss of identity, the search for meaning, and the impact on childhood this modern, internet-connected society has on young people, neatly wrapped in something which creates an amalgamation that is part dramatic feature, part music video, part documentary film, and all darkly whimsical eccentricity. Accompanied by a very soothing and joyful ukulele-centric music score throughout, the study of this one young boy’s wrestling with a simple gift and what significance it does, or really does not, have on his daily life is quite affecting and sad in that it’s such a struggle to incorporate what seems like such an antiquated object and really have it apply to anything he’s actually interested in or engaged by. The efforts to find this takes the narrative everywhere yet nowhere, as it all leads to a surprisingly–impactful–finale.

Aidan Jones is quite honestly amazing here in his role as Philip, your average young boy who lives for the facets of life any child would tend to gravitate towards, doing so with that sense of carefree, relaxed, and ideally fun-filled innocence. But, when this strange new object (aka: a ukulele) gets introduced to this status quo, it truly throws Philip off his game, and he is slowly but surely drawn into a sweeping escapade to discover its place in his world, filled with a wild mix of the comedic, the somber, and perhaps even the surreal. However, even after this has all been investigated, it is Philip’s exasperation that wins out. All of this is so interestingly enacted but in such an understated way by Jones, yet it just speaks volumes to the film’s greater themes. As to supporting roles, there is John Wright as JB, host of an online “tutorial” on how to play the uke, which turns out to be more farce than facts, and otherwise many playing themselves here, including Ian Cox, Hugo Monks, Greg Petersen, and Aidan Sharpe among others.

So, in total, with its inherent quirkiness firmly in tow and its messages many but needing to be pondered upon viewing the film, “Sunshine Ukulele” shall rise as one of the further prime examples of the nature of independent cinema and proof positive that there are no limits to the creative genius behind filmmakers who aren’t afraid to challenge audience perception.

As always, this is all for your consideration and comment.  Until next time, thank you for reading!

 

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