Brooklyn is sweet—very, very sweet. And, for once, surprising even myself, I don’t mean that in any sort of disparaging way: this period film by director John Crowley (Boy A, Closed Circuit) is the kind of sincere, moving feel-gooder that is capable of resonating across demographics. Basically a coming-of-age tale about a young woman off to start a new life in an unfamiliar world, leaving behind everything she’s ever known, and the many ways in which she is transformed by the journey, Brooklyn—adapted for the screen by Nick Hornby from Colm Tóibín’s 2009 novel of the same name—might not have too much going on in terms of the sort of high-stakes drama that we’re generally used to seeing in immigrant stories, but it’s so intimate in scope, and so well-crafted, that you’re drawn in all the same. And there’s no question that a huge chunk of the credit for the film’s effectiveness really must go to its young lead, Saoirse Ronan; the actress absolutely hits all the right notes, a strong and beautifully-restrained performance that gives the film a believable emotional core and prevents it from drifting into unpalatable saccharinity the way it could very well have if someone lesser had been cast.

It’s the early 50s, and we’re in the town of Enniscorthy in County Wexford, southeast Ireland, where Eilis Lacey (Ronan) is trying to get to grips with the trip she must soon take to the United States, one that will very likely be one-way. You see, life in Enniscorthy might have been decent enough thus far for her and her little family—comprising mother Mary (Jane Brennan) and elder sister Rose (Fiona Glascott)—but there’s a distinct lack of prospects here in terms of employment, and Rose is determined that Eilis get a chance to do something more than mind the cash register at the grumpy local trader’s like she does now. And so it is that she’s booked her sister passage to New York, where a kindly old family acquaintance, Father Flood (Jim Broadbent), has promised to help Eilis find work and a place to stay.

So it’s off across the Atlantic for our pale-eyed heroine, whose awful initial bout with seasickness on the boat soon turns into one of homesickness as she finally docks at Ellis Island, and takes in her new, alien surrounds. Even though Brooklyn might be packed with Irish immigrants—her landlady (Julie Walters) among them—and her job at a department store under a hawk-eyed supervisor (Mad Men’s Jessica Paré, characteristically wooden) isn’t all that bad, Eilis can’t help be miserable and lonely, yearning all the time to be back home. But, as Father Flood reminds her, “Homesickness is like most sicknesses. It will pass.” And sure enough, she begins to settle in, helped in no small part by the night-time bookkeeping classes she’s enrolled in, not to mention her budding romance with a nice young Italian fella, Tony (Emory Cohen). But just as Eilis has started feeling like she’s found some semblance of purpose and belonging in Brooklyn, she is suddenly called back to Ireland, and must now make a choice: whether to continue trying to find her place in a foreign land, or to succumb to the seductive embrace of all that is familiar and safe.

Brooklyn has been gorgeously shot. And there’s a fun interplay between the plot and the visual style, where you’ll notice subtle changes in palette as the story progresses—paralleling Eilis’ gradual gaining of self-assurance, no doubt—going from a subdued, desaturated tone early on to warmer, happier, richer hues in later parts. The production design well succeeds in evoking the look and feel of the era and context in which in the film is set, and the costumes are spot on, an array of bright-hued poufy dresses, cat-eye sunglasses and chest-high pants.

Unlike a lot of period dramas, however, the film doesn’t let an obsession with aesthetic detailing overpower the substance of the story, which, despite being set in such a specific time and place, is ultimately very universal.

The act of leaving home, whatever the reason for such a move, is always bittersweet—something most of us can relate to. On one hand, there’s the pain that comes of severing ties with an old life, one that—as bad as it might’ve been—is usually the only one you’ve known. Then there’s the anxiety of trying to fit in elsewhere, of having to learn new things and unlearn others, reinvent yourself. But even when you do adapt, and even start to become excited about new possibilities, there’s often a nagging sense of guilt and loss associated with moving on. Crowley’s film captures poignantly that dance between going forward and being tugged back, and the feeling that whatever you do, you can never truly cut yourself off from where you’ve come from.

What is also great about Brooklyn is that it avoids most of the clichés films on displacement and migration tend to latch onto: Eilis is not your typical tragic figure, and the push and pull factors acting upon her decisions aren’t typical either: she isn’t running from war or poverty, she’s just looking for better opportunities. In refusing to overly sensationalise both her triumphs and her challenges, and in its willingness to focus on the mundane, the film manages to feel a lot more real than you’d expect. Our heroine might be walking the tightrope between childhood and adulthood, but instead of reverting to the expected dramatic ‘milestones’, it proceeds with refreshing looseness. Not to imply that there is no drama here; the last third of the film, with Eilis wavering over her decision, is particular tense, for instance.

Brooklyn does, however, threaten to trip over into sappiness every now and then, and would probably have grated a bit with its sometimes too-cheery, life-affirming outlook if not for the cast, primarily its lead star. Ronan is the heart and soul of the film, using those guileless, transparent blue eyes to scale such expressive heights as to absolute mesmerise. The actress has consistently impressed in most roles we’ve seen her in over the years, remarkably controlled—whether it was as the vindictive young girl in Atonement, an otherworldly watcher in The Lovely Bones, or even in that short stint in 2014’s The Grand Budapest Hotel. In possession of such delicate features capable of registering a wide range of emotions, she wholly comes into her own in Brooklyn, dominating the screen. Complementing hers is a sincere performance by Cohen as her awkwardly-charming beau, along with a talented group of supporting acts like Broadbent, Walters and Domhnall Gleeson, among others.  

I’ll be honest with you: there isn’t much going on in Brooklyn at any given time, and it’s not the sort of film that offers all that much food for thought. But straightforward and simple though it may seem, and lacking in the sort of epic, sweeping moments that you expect of a film on subject like this, it manages to be moving and affective thanks to great visuals, a script that relies heavily on emotional nuance, and an actress who more than delivers.