From the start, “Wild Rose” has an unexpected premise: It’s about a young Scottish woman who aspires to be a country singer. (In an amusing running bit, she rolls her eyes and exasperatedly corrects anyone who refers to the genre as “Country & Western.”) Rose was raised in a working-class section of Glasgow, the only child of a longtime bakery attendant (a subtly no-nonsense Julie Walters, providing tough love). But she believes she should have been born in America, and that she belongs in Nashville.
When we first see Rose, she’s getting out of prison after a year behind bars on a drug charge, strutting away in a white-fringed leather jacket and matching cowboy boots that provide a stark contrast amid the gray Scottish skies and reflect her isolation. It’s telling that the first stop she makes is for a quick romp with her boyfriend (to whom she sings Patsy Cline’s “Walkin’ After Midnight” instead of ringing the doorbell) rather than to her mother’s house, where her two young children await. They carry the country legend names of Wynonna (Daisy Littlefield) and Lyle (Adam Mitchell). They are 8 and 5. They barely know her -- and she has no clue how to get to know them. As compelling as the flashy musical numbers can be in “Wild Rose,” seeing Rose struggle awkwardly to connect with her children during more intimate moments packs an even greater punch.
Despite being a single mother of two in her early 20s, Rose is still totally selfish at this point. A brash loner who says whatever’s on her mind -- usually in the most profane way possible, which is both shocking and adorable -- she has a tendency to undermine whatever progress she makes toward becoming responsible and reliable. She’s got swagger for days, but she can’t help getting in her own way. The great tension of “Wild Rose” comes not from wondering whether she’ll ever make it to Nashville to live her Grand Ole Opry dreams but rather whether she and her children will ever share a hug.
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