There’s a story inside this well-crafted vehicle, but what you’ll take with you is just one image: that face! Director John Crowley, along with his cinematographer and editor, obviously took great care and expense in making that image the single most important part of the narrative.

And I can’t blame them. Saoirse Ronan has a sublime cinema-face, one that audiences – especially females – can gaze upon intently for extended periods. Still, I don’t think Louis Mayer would have given the young Joan Crawford so many close-ups, even though the story itself might seem a lot like the one told in Brooklyn. But Mayer would probably have told screenwriter Nick Hornby, who adapted the novel by Colm Toibin, to make it a little shorter.

Ronan plays Eilis, a young shopgirl in the no-chance economy in County Wexford, Ireland, 1952. She and her sister Rose live with their adoring widowed mother, to whom they are equally devoted. But through the efforts of Rose, and a Catholic priest in New York, Eilis is given a chance for a better life in America. After a miserable ocean voyage, Eilis is placed in a cramped boarding house for girls in Brooklyn. She struggles, but eventually finds that people really appreciate her for her sweetness and generosity, but especially for her disarmingly wise, no-nonsense candor. She studies bookkeeping, and finds an American boyfriend – an Italian! – who is as devoted as can be.

But the familiar, reliably uplifting story of a newcomer’s life in America suddenly shifts after a family tragedy in her homeland. She knows that she must return, and is heartbroken. But Tony, her boyfriend, fearing he’ll never see her again, convinces her to marry him before she leaves.

It is the last third of the film that moves into less familiar territory. The unexpected happens: suddenly, the girl that nobody used to have any use for is a desirable commodity. Big offers are made for her to stay, and one in particular – from a handsome, sensitive young man from a wealthy family – causes the most distress.

Fear not! Nobody who has been seduced thus far is going to leave in disappointment. The film ends happily, of course, with that warm glow of satisfaction at seeing good people being rewarded for their virtue under siege.

Unfortunately, the filmmakers were less sure-footed in resolution than in setting up the crisis. Ronan slips out of her dilemma a little too easily. The final scene with her mother is particularly insipid.

In spite of this, the superior acting throughout make it a pleasure to sit through. I’m less inclined to credit Crowley, who directed as if this were a Jane Austen story. Nothing looked spontaneous. The actors were always placed or moved into frozen set-ups, whether seated at dinner tables, standing at store counters or walking outdoors. Everybody always looked straight into the eyes of the person they spoke to. The extras looked fitted into well-pressed costumes, and seemed to be waiting for their cues. Only Emory Cohen, as Tony, gave the impression of acting with his entire body. He has a natural grace.

But, ah, that face! It floats through the film like a Macy’s balloon, but one that can act. Ronan is a likely Oscar nominee, especially since the film’s success was so dependent on her performance.