There's nothing so frustrating as a small movie, made by a clearly gifted filmmaker, that flies close to magic only to be sternly jerked back to earth. Kisses, by the Irish filmmaker Lance Daly, is that kind of picture, one that struggles to find its tone and ends on an uncertain, unsettling note, though one thing's for sure: Daly's missteps don't derail the performances of the two open-faced young actors who give the movie its heartbeat.
In Kisses, two kids just on the cusp of adulthood run away from their desolate neighborhood on the outskirts of Dublin. They're next-door neighbors and friends, and both face enormous problems at home: Dylan (Shane Curry) is perpetually ground down by his abusive father -- he finds refuge by tuning out and focusing on his video games, but that's hardly a permanent fix. The enormously self-possessed Kylie (Kelly O'Neill) appears to have things easier -- her mother just scowls at her and nags her about taking her younger sibling (or possibly her niece -- the family relationships aren't quite clear) out in the pram. It turns out, though, that her rakish young uncle has sexually abused her.
Dylan is a quiet kid, given to lots of gloomy rumination. Kylie has much more hope, and she's open about it: She absent-mindedly practices twirling a baton -- sending it flying into the air and landing right on his noggin -- as the two chat outside Dylan's house (though it's she who does most of the chatting). She reminds Dylan that one day they'll be old enough to leave their crappy environs. "I'm not marrying you if we have to live in a kip like this," she says with utter deadpan conviction.
And so when Dylan manages to narrowly escape one of his father's serious rages -- it's Kylie who helps him scamper away -- the two run off to Dublin with a wad of money Kylie has found hidden in her house. And it's in this early section of Kisses that Daly shows the best he's got to offer: The two scramble aboard a dredger that's on its way into the city -- the captain is reluctant to take them on, but Kylie's charming persistence wins him over. The dredger (he's played by David Bendito) treats them as temporary assistants, and when he learns Dylan's name, his face brightens. "Like Bob Dylan!" he says. Realizing that the young Irish Dylan has no idea who the old, weird American Dylan is, he sings, a capella and in an accent that may be Spanish but is in no way Irish, a snippet of "Shelter from the Storm" -- a song that holds a particularly potent meaning, considering Kylie's protectiveness of her shy, troubled almost-boyfriend.
The dredge sequence is lovely, a respite of romance and escape that carries echoes of Jean Vigo's L'Atalante. When Kylie and Dylan reach Dublin (their hope is to find Dylan's runaway brother), they blow Kylie's money on a haircut for Dylan, on new hoodie jackets (Kylie's is pink fur), on candy and wheeled sneakers. The shopping scene is joyous, a modern urban fairytale -- consumerism can, for a time at least, buy happiness.
Everyone Dylan and Kylie encounter -- the dredger, a busker, a kind and beautiful young woman who appears to be dabbling in prostitution -- appears to be from somewhere else. Daly (who also wrote the script) seems to be offering some sense of hope for these two troubled kids: The idea is that people can leave home, and while doing so is sometimes hard, it can also be a marvelous adventure. Daly -- his earlier films are The Halo Effect and Last Days in Dublin -- flirts with the idea that art and beauty can offer us respite from the world's cruelty. The Bob Dylan motif, in particular, recurs in some marvelous and surprising ways (one of which involves a sly little cameo from Stephen Rea).
But midway through the picture Daly loses his way, and he's more lost than Kylie and Dylan are. The movie's early, bleak sequences are shot in black-and-white; color bleeds in gradually as the two runaways get farther from home. But their relief is short-lived: The story takes some dark turns, as if Daly needed to reinforce the idea that running away from home is dangerous for young people. Intentionally or otherwise, he's sending out a "Kids, don't try this at home!" message.
As if in defiance of that pessimism, Kylie and Dylan tentatively explore the idea of adult love; they also learn that they'll turn out OK if they stick together. O'Neill and Curry are a joy to watch in these roles: In the early scenes, Curry's Dylan wears his worry and woe so openly that, even with his bright, youthful face, he seems old and stooped beyond his years. O'Neill's Kylie, with her sunny, take-charge demeanor, is his fountain of youth. As the two of them make their way through the streets of Dublin, she restores to him what's rightfully his -- she gives him permission to have fun. That's why the dour, ambiguous ending Daly gives the movie feels so unsatisfying: He wants to reinforce the idea that there's no easy escape for these kids. But by that point, we're so in love with them that we need to have more hope for them. Just like Daly's young characters, moviegoers sometimes need shelter from the storm, too.