The Guy (Glen Hansard) is a working-class Irish dreamer, plugging away in his father's vacuum repair shop by day and hitting the streets to perform his songs at night. During one of his street corner concerts, Guy meets The Girl (Marketa Irglova), who is smitten with Guy's guitar playing and touched by his lyrics. After some flirtatious pushing and pulling, Guy asks Girl to form a makeshift band, fashioning a tentative bond between the two that skirts around love, but never seems to settle, much to Guy's frustrations and heartache.

What really sold me on "Once" were the intimate moments between the characters. It's a film created with little in the way of a budget or studio interference; the end product being a soft, trembling feature that believes in the magic of infatuation and silent hell of unrequited love. It's an open wound of stifled emotions, and I was quite taken with the interesting ways it attempts to portray the unstoppable connection between man and woman, here employing the rickety wood bridge of music.

Using new screen talent like Hansard (lead singer of the Irish band The Frames) and Irglova adds to the freedom of the piece. Director John Carney likes to rely on the freshness of the talent, trusting their unease with acting will bring out the kindly awkwardness between the characters. For the most part, this technique works; slowly sucking in the viewer as Guy and Girl grow comfortable around each other, especially when they create music. For the record, I can't say I'm a fan of Hansard's drippy songwriting treacle or bombastic vocal delivery, and a sizable portion of the picture's appeal is reliant on the allure of his music. Regardless of quality, the passion behind the tunes speaks volumes about the characters, and it's impossible to turn a cold shoulder to the romantic pining blossoming between Guy and Girl when they intertwine their voices, edging "Once" closer to the musical genre at times.

Of course, it feels unfair to call out the technical limitations of "Once" when the film is so sweet and humble. However, there's a limit to how much informal camerawork one can buy before it starts to resemble a bad clip from "America's Funniest Home Videos." Shot with a commercial DV camera, "Once" uses jittery long lenses and camouflaged camera placement to achieve that raw, unfettered look at two souls finding perfect sync. Admittedly, it keeps the film baggy; free from succumbing to the pressures of the meet cute and assorted romantic nonsense. However, Carney becomes a little too enamored of the cinematographic limitations, and loses some excruciatingly important scenes to darkness and lousy focus. Call me crazy, but I like to actually see cinematic moments of emotional longing and heartache, not try to squint them into view. "Once" lost me repeatedly with its disheveled DIY approach and inconsiderate lighting.

There's a moment shared between Guy and his father where they sit in a cramped kitchen and listen peacefully to Guy's demo. Film history has trained me to expect a parental reaction nearing hysteria, but "Once" offers a petite piece of subtle sweetness, and it sums up the movie beautifully. This is a warm picture intended for soft hearts who appreciate the ache of attraction. Even if you're like me, and just couldn't hurdle the presentation or the music, there's an exceptionally sincere, expressive quality to "Once" that's universally appealing.