In the wild and untamed cinematic landscape, few directors dare to venture as fearlessly as Andrea Arnold. Her latest offering, Bird, is a testament to her uncompromising vision – a chaotic, flawed, but ultimately captivating social-realist adventure that meditates on the universal yearning for identity and belonging.
At the heart of Bird’s chaotic world is Bug, a larger-than-life character brought to vivid life by Barry Keoghan. Bug is a man with a plan – a surefire scheme to strike it rich by harvesting hallucinogenic toad slime. It’s a wild premise, but in Keoghan’s capable hands, Bug’s manic energy and unwavering optimism become the film’s driving force.
Yet for all of Bug’s bravado, it’s his 12-year-old daughter Bailey who emerges as the story’s true protagonist. Played with raw vulnerability by newcomer Nykiya Adams, Bailey navigates a world of alienation and upheaval. Caught between her father’s impending remarriage and her mother’s abusive new partner, Bailey finds solace in an unlikely friendship with the enigmatic Bird.
A Flawed but Fearless Adventure
Bird, portrayed with delightful eccentricity by Franz Rogowski, is a character who defies easy categorization. A German in a kilt, a poetic soul adrift in a harsh world, Bird becomes Bailey’s guide and confidant. Their relationship forms the emotional core of the film, even as the plot takes increasingly absurd turns.
And absurd it certainly is. Arnold’s narrative is a pick’n’mix of social-realist tropes, sudden bursts of violence, and moments of pure fantasy. At times, the tonal shifts can be jarring, the coincidences and contrivances straining credibility. Yet there’s an undeniable energy to Arnold’s storytelling, a sense of urgency and honesty that keeps the film compelling even in its most implausible moments.
The Power of Imperfection
In many ways, Bird feels like a spiritual successor to Ken Loach’s classic Kes. Both films center on disadvantaged youths finding meaning through their connection to winged creatures. But where Kes was a masterpiece of social realism, Bird is a more unruly beast – a film that embraces its own imperfections and inconsistencies.
Perhaps that’s the point. In a world that so often devalues and overlooks the marginalized, Bird argues for the power of imperfection. Its characters are messy, its plot threads tangled, but there’s a raw beauty in its refusal to conform to expectations.
Bird screened at the Cannes film festival, and is in UK and Irish cinemas from 8 November.
– Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian
Ultimately, Bird is a film that will divide audiences. Some will embrace its untamed spirit, its big, chancy performances and sudden tonal shifts. Others will find it frustratingly uneven, a curate’s egg of a movie that never quite coheres.
But in a cinematic landscape increasingly dominated by safe bets and formulaic fare, there’s something refreshing about Bird’s willingness to take risks. It may not always soar, but when it does, it’s a sight to behold. In Andrea Arnold’s world, even the flaws have a certain grace.
And absurd it certainly is. Arnold’s narrative is a pick’n’mix of social-realist tropes, sudden bursts of violence, and moments of pure fantasy. At times, the tonal shifts can be jarring, the coincidences and contrivances straining credibility. Yet there’s an undeniable energy to Arnold’s storytelling, a sense of urgency and honesty that keeps the film compelling even in its most implausible moments.
The Power of Imperfection
In many ways, Bird feels like a spiritual successor to Ken Loach’s classic Kes. Both films center on disadvantaged youths finding meaning through their connection to winged creatures. But where Kes was a masterpiece of social realism, Bird is a more unruly beast – a film that embraces its own imperfections and inconsistencies.
Perhaps that’s the point. In a world that so often devalues and overlooks the marginalized, Bird argues for the power of imperfection. Its characters are messy, its plot threads tangled, but there’s a raw beauty in its refusal to conform to expectations.
Bird screened at the Cannes film festival, and is in UK and Irish cinemas from 8 November.
– Peter Bradshaw, The Guardian
Ultimately, Bird is a film that will divide audiences. Some will embrace its untamed spirit, its big, chancy performances and sudden tonal shifts. Others will find it frustratingly uneven, a curate’s egg of a movie that never quite coheres.
But in a cinematic landscape increasingly dominated by safe bets and formulaic fare, there’s something refreshing about Bird’s willingness to take risks. It may not always soar, but when it does, it’s a sight to behold. In Andrea Arnold’s world, even the flaws have a certain grace.
