If nothing else, Andrea Arnold is not afraid of depicting reality. Her movies often sit in uncomfortable settings – either something bad is currently happening, or something bad will happen. Sometimes both. Adults are temperamental volcanoes and children stumble over their mistakes in the pursuit of coming-of-age revelation. Her films hold a mirror to sectors of the working class (similar to Arnold’s upbringing) and very much feel like the same vibe — yes, even the thankless job of the dairy cow.
Bird, the latest installment of Arnold’s underbelly of adolescence and unofficial Animal-Title cinematic universe, is more or less the expected Arnold movie, reset with fresh faces. Newcomer Nykiya Adams is our young adventurer as Bailey, an unhappy 12-year-old who becomes unhappier when her dad Bug (Barry Keoghan) announces that he plans to wed his girlfriend of three months at the end of the week. With her half-brother Hunter (Jason Buda), she trails behind him and his friends’ horseplay, which includes robbing houses. In solitude, she takes pictures with her phone, which we’ll sometimes see in her perspective when the frame slims to portrait-mode.
Then, the slightest rip in Arnold’s world occurs: Bailey meets a man named Bird (Franz Rogowski), who is looking for his mother. Within the ten minutes of his screen time, it’s pretty clear that Bird is a bird man. That is, in the sense of a man with birdlike features rather than a man pretending to be a bird or an avid fan of nature’s aviator. Arguments can be made on whether Bird exists outside of Bailey’s perspective (he interacts with other characters, but the tin hat feels heavier once you start thinking about the purpose of the interactions or which character Bird is not in the same scene with).
Sometimes Arnold indulges in fantasies that are as dreamlike as they can be: moments of fleeting solace in an environment full of wrong. In Bird, the fantasy is fuller and present. While it doesn’t come close to the escapism featured in Bridge to Terabithia or Pan’s Labyrinth, Arnold uses it as a vehicle to permit Bailey’s warmth to radiate. Happiness is fragile, but it’s not far from reach. The gossamer of kindness between Bird and Bailey as they help each other is enough to lift us up and soar along.
Franz Rogowski, in no shortcoming of the task, is magnificent in his supporting role. In the cognitive hurdles of figuring him metaphorically or physically, there was always the chance that any actor placed in the wings of this role could hack it. Playing Bird is a fine line between honesty and performance, and Rogowski steps up to the plate to subtly imitate a seagull’s neck mechanics while offering the window of innocence befitting to this world. He might be a bizarre character to watch, but with Bailey’s heart of hidden gold, acceptance is easier done than said.
Bird vibrates in its South London location, from the splashes of indoor graffiti to the groveling switches between Burial’s drilling electronic score, grime rap, and Coldplay’s “Yellow.” The character designs blend in (while I fear that bad tattoo placement doesn’t work as a substantial criticism if it fits the bill, I can say that Keoghan’s seems distracting). Even if I could complain that Arnold movies feel like they are fished from the same pond, Bird can be commended for feeling like its own species from Fish Tank or American Honey.
Bird
2024
dir. Andrea Arnold
119 min.
