There is something bodaciously brash about Rose-Lynn (Jessie Buckley). The centerpiece of Wild Rose is fresh out of prison and fresh full of ideas about how she’s going to go from her native Glasgow, Scotland to Nashville, Tennessee and make it as a country star. Only problem is, well … there are a slew of them and how Rose tackles them lies at the heart of this hauntingly heartwarming film.

Director Tom Harper has crafted a touching and yes, melodic, story that will resonate with audiences across spectrums. After all, this is a tale with country music at its heart and those who utterly adore it with every ounce of their soul will find something utterly compelling about it. To quote Rose, when asked why she adores the musical genre that is uniquely American, she simply replies, “it’s three chords and the truth.” It’s that sentiment that has made the music milieu transcendent across geographical lines.

Also, one does not have to enjoy that kind of music to embrace and be enamored of Wild Rose.

When Rose-Lynn arrives at her mother Marion’s (Julie Walters) house, fresh from prison, she is not given a hero’s welcome. Her two children, a little boy and slightly older girl, barely know their mother. Sure, she was only gone for a year. Marion didn’t bring the kiddos by the prison, because she didn’t want them to see their mother in such a place. Immediately, Rose’s son warms up to her. Her daughter … not so much and it will take a whole lot of work for mom to earn the love of her only little girl.

Marion is tough on her child and it’s a relationship that is as central to the dynamics of Wild Rose as Rose’s budding familial bond with her kin. It appears that Marion had high hopes for her child, but a few terrible decisions (such as getting pregnant at 16 or that whole thing that got her sent away for a year in prison) and—worse still—the immature manner in which she is known to respond to those who have challenged her decision making, will not win any points with her mum.

In the opening act of Wild Rose, Nicole Taylor’s screenplay astoundingly gives us a mountain of regret and missed opportunities coupled with a pretty bad attitude. It’s hard to root for Rose. As much as she has to win over her mother, children, the parole judge (she has a tracker around her ankle and has to be home by 7 p.m. every evening—something that makes pursuing a country music singing career a tad impossible), the wild woman-child has to sweep us off of our feet. Rose-Lynn is the most fascinating of protagonists. It’s never a given, even through the second act, that this soul will be one that warrants our inspiration instead of our ire. As Taylor’s script, whose spirit is stunningly captured by Harper, provides little morsels of hope for the title character, we too see the signs of greatness that could arise from the single mum whose voice is like a lightning bolt of brilliance.

Among the first people onscreen to see potential where the system, society and even her mother and own daughter see a grab bag of disappointment, is her boss, Susannah (Sophie Okonedo). This wealthy Glasgow resident took a chance on her when she hired an ex-con to clean her house (what with two small children herself). Rose never tells her about her kids, but Susannah’s kiddos cannot stop talking about her. They heard her belting out tracks one day while working and inform their mum that the cleaning lady has priceless pipes. Upon hearing her first-hand, she could not be more supportive and even orchestrates a way for her to meet the King of Country Music in London at BBC Radio. That relationship, and what it promises for Rose, does not play out as one would expect it would—as dozens of movies have wandered down that worn road.

Upon reflection, it makes perfect sense that country music would find an audience in Scotland (and the greater United Kingdom, all over the globe, really). As Rose states to Susannah, when asked why she likes country music, all you need is “three chords and the truth.” She even has that quote tattooed on her arm. The lyrics of country music encompass many elements that easily find kindred spirits, specifically here with Rose. These subjects range from troubles or triumph with love, the complexity of the inner challenges of the working man and woman, issues with the law and the feeling that all of society is against you, to the bond of family and how it can be everything from an asset to a hindrance. When the camera gives us an establishing shot of the music club that Rose played and plays at, we see “Glasgow’s Grand Ole Opry” in big neon lights. After taking all this in, it all makes perfect sense.

Walters is sensational. Her role is demanding on so many levels. She has to be a mother to her daughter’s kids while she’s in prison and then suddenly shift role to grandma when mom gets out of the slammer. Once Rose is free, Marion must straddle a line between wholehearted support and keeping her daughter’s feet to the fire. She lets her know, in no uncertain terms, when she makes one of those bad decisions. Mom calls her on it. There is even one moment that found me covering my eyes because I just couldn’t watch Marion lecture Rose. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved it. Still … see, the titular character has to earn her adoration—from everyone onscreen and each one of us witnessing her cinematic journey.

Buckley’s vocal presence is sonically seismic. It’s completely unique and befits a rocking country girl whose influences run the gamut from Bonnie Raitt to Reba McEntire, with a smattering of Janis Joplin and Nancy Wilson tossed in for good measure. I could listen to her belt out songs all day long—from guitar-wailing country rock to the best romance-centric tracks that will ring your heart out like a wet washcloth.

Wild Rose is a movie moment expertly crafted for dreamers and for anyone who has loved someone who dreams. Infinitely inspiring, the film also grounds itself in a reality that works wonders for enrapturing its audience in that first act and a half where we didn’t know if Rose would ever pull it all together. By its conclusion, you have been on a journey that is rocky, littered with stumbles and a soul who has worked her tail off to ensure that her children are proud of her. In the end, that is the only approval that matters. As such, Wild Rose rivets and had this writer reaching for that tissue box—all while smiling profusely.

Grade: A