Sentimentality is much harder to get right than one might think. Some films try so hard to tug at the heartstrings that they become more cringeworthy than emotive, while others overplay the subtlety card to produce an understated result.

Brooklyn could have fallen in either camp; telling the story of an immigrant in the 1950s who has ‘spirited away’ to America, leaving her mother and sister back in Ireland. In the wrong hands Brooklyn could have been a painful disaster. Luckily for us, the film is handled almost to perfection by Irish theatre and film director John Crowley.

Our protagonist, Éilis Lacey, is played by the brilliant Saoirse Ronan, and it is the performance of the Irish-American actress that lingers with the viewer on leaving the cinema and re-entering reality. Since bursting onto the scene with her Oscar-nominated role in Atonement, Ronan hasn’t put a foot wrong, being technically brilliant in all her roles. It is in Brooklyn, however, that Ronan takes it to a new level, giving the best performance of her career. It is apparent from the start that is she such a physical performer. Despite having wonderful control over her dialogue, it is when Crowley’s camera focuses on Ronan’s face that the true purpose of the director’s creative objectives is fully illustrated. Her ability to convey her character’s emotions without saying a word is remarkable, rendering it a performance that harks back to the glory days of silent cinema more than anything else.

What is essential to Ronan’s performance is that she makes her character completely believable. Éilis, while undoubtedly a likeable character whose company is more than entertaining, does make some illogical and frustrating decisions during the film, testing the audience’s initial warmth towards her. Nevertheless, Ronan, with Crowley’s careful direction, maintains a sympathetic edge to her potentially tricky character. Although Éilis may make some mistakes along the way, Ronan is able to convincingly suspend our disbelief and give the impression of a figure whose decisions are not mere plot contrivances but character developments.

It’s been a great shame for Ronan that while her performances in recent years have been fantastic, the films themselves (Hanna, The Lovely Bones, How I Live Now) haven’t quite matched her excellence. Yet Brooklyn more than steps up to Ronan’s mark; the screenplay, written by novelist Nick Hornby, is airtight, never once dipping into thespian self-indulgence, but lingering on the moments that need that extra focus.

While being undoubtedly sad and melancholic, the script is also extremely funny, with Julie Walters delivering the script’s wittiest lines like the acting great she is. All of this is held under the reign of director John Crowley, whose contribution to the film is probably the most unnoticeable yet the most vital. His discreet direction allows the screenplay and his actors to breathe, yet he maintains a firm hand on proceedings, never letting the story stray, and as a result tells it almost perfectly.

At the end of the day all you can say about Brooklyn is that it’s a simply wonderful film. It’s so well told, acted and directed that it seems to make this cinematic feat appear the height of simplicity; but on the contrary Brooklyn is almost flawless in its subtle sophistication. Oscar season is officially upon us, and despite Brooklyn’s modest intentions, it has started with a bang.