Bird

CinemaSerf7/10

Nov 10, 2024

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There are two lovely performances to enjoy in this story of the twelve year old "Bailey" (Nykiya Adams). She lives in a squat with her dad "Bug" (Barry Keoghan), brother "Hunter" (Jason Buda) and her soon-to-be stepmum "Kayleigh" (Frankie Box). It's that impending wedding, and the wearing of a pretty garish pink cat-suit, that puts her at odds with her well-meaning dad and sees her left to amuse herself amidst the fields of Kent. It's there that she encounters the rather enigmatic "Bird" (Franz Rogowski) who is looking for his parents who lived in a Gravesend tower block near her home. She decides to try and help this rather quirky chap and quickly their lives become curiously linked as we discover that her mother (Jasmine Jobson) is struggling through an abusive relationship with boyfriend "Skate" (James Nelson-Joyce) whilst also trying to bring up three youngsters. With the quest for her new friend's parents, her desire to help her mum and siblings and her dad's pressure to engage with his own hopes for happiness, the young "Bailey" hasn't her challenges to seek. Keoghan features energetically as he zips around the housing estates on his e-scooter, and his character serves well to help keep the main characterisations going - and it's on that front there's a charmingly understated chemistry developed between Adams and Rogowski that mixes their respective back-stories with a soupçon of the mystic and plenty of allegorical imagery to introduce quite elusive themes of freedom, family and quite frequently fun, too. There are also some fairly violent undertones, and we are left in no doubt that her life and that of her family has been and will remain fairly turbulent - but those points are not brought to us via a sledge-hammer, more by gentle observation and development of engaging personalities that evolve gently but potently over a couple of hours. It's a slow burn, but it works.

FULL SPOILER-FREE REVIEW @ https://movieswetextedabout.com/bird-review-a-thoughtful-study-of-the-fragile-line-between-innocence-and-adolescence/ "Bird is a raw, honest portrayal that, despite some pacing issues and a challenging blend of fantasy and reality, offers a deeply human experience elevated by Nykiya Adams' impressively genuine performance. Andrea Arnold controls her original narrative with an intimate, sensitive lens on the struggles and inner conflicts of a young girl in transition, highlighting both the complexities of adolescence and the fragile beauty of childhood innocence. For those who find themselves captivated by Bailey's introspection and vulnerability, Bird will undoubtedly be a poignant, lasting story." Rating: B-

Andrea Arnold's return to fiction filmmaking with Bird is nothing short of magical. I'm admittedly biased — give me a dash of magic surrealism and I'm already halfway to being won over. But Bird soars well beyond mere genre appeal. At its heart, this is a coming-of-age story centered on Bailey, portrayed by newcomer Nykiya Adams in what can only be described as a revelation of a performance. It's not just me gushing here — Adams has already collected five Breakthrough Performance awards, and rightfully so. There's something raw and undeniable in her presence that makes me certain we'll be seeing much more of her. The film follows Arnold's characteristic focus on young women living on society's margins, but this time through a lens that feels both fresh and familiar. Franz Rogowski (honestly, is there a thoughtful European indie he's not in?) brings his trademark subtlety to his role as Bailey's counterpart. The rest of the supporting cast holds their own admirably, creating a world that feels lived-in and authentic. But it's Arnold's underlying optimism that really gets me. Throughout the film, she weaves this beautiful thread about the nature of love — how we all love differently, imperfectly, sometimes messily. And that's okay. More than okay, actually. It's a profound truth that some of us spend decades trying to understand: that love, in whatever form it takes, doesn't need to meet some arbitrary standard to be valid. The way Arnold brings this message home — through her distinctive visual style and moments of subtle magic — well, it just works. Really works. Though I should mention the somewhat dizzying handheld camerawork in the opening scenes nearly threw me off. But perhaps that's fitting for a film about imperfect love — even its minor flaws feel purposeful, like they're part of the larger truth Arnold is sharing with us. By the time the credits rolled, I found myself sitting there, a bit misty-eyed, thinking about all the different ways people manage to love each other in this complicated world of ours. Not perfect? Sure. That's rather the point, isn't it?