Bird

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Elsie M Another great Andrea Arnold film. This definitely needs time to process after watching it. Rated 4/5 Stars •  Rated 4 out of 5 stars 11/19/24 Full Review James This is a remarkable movie. It ranges from a level of realism that will make you a little uncomfortable to outright magic, and the acting is uniformly superb. No summary could do it justice, just see it. Rated 5/5 Stars •  Rated 5 out of 5 stars 11/18/24 Full Review Edith Very boring. I walked out of the theater Rated 0.5/5 Stars •  Rated 0.5 out of 5 stars 11/17/24 Full Review Shannon P Gritty view of life, with some fantasy as well. Interesting film good job by actors Rated 4/5 Stars •  Rated 4 out of 5 stars 11/15/24 Full Review Joyce H All the performances were Grade A. Keoghan & Rogowski at their best. Rated 5/5 Stars •  Rated 5 out of 5 stars 11/08/24 Full Review Luanne A Following my recent streak of watching films because of specific actors, I sought out Bird because of Barry Keoghan, who had impressed me with a powerful performance in Bring Them Down. He has this ability to convey depth with minimal facial expression — a truly valuable quality in an actor. Bird was also part of the 2024 Rio Film Festival lineup and was already one of the titles I regretted not being able to see at the time. I aimed for Barry — and ended up being struck by Nykiya Adams, whose work I was completely unfamiliar with, understandably so, since Bird is her first feature film. From the very first minutes, the film captivated me. The poetic visual language reveals itself in the scene where Bailey observes birds from inside an overpass, whose structure makes her appear to be inside a cage. A simple and powerful image. Bailey carries in her eyes the sadness of someone who doesn’t see love around her — and at the same time, the depth and integrity of someone who still holds a great potential to love. This latent connection expresses itself especially in her relationship with nature. It's beautiful how the film introduces, in a subtle and delicate way, the "magical" exchange between Bailey and animals right from the first scene. It took me a moment to understand that Bug was Bailey’s father — the age difference between them seems small, and he behaves more like an older brother than a father figure. But the chaos Bailey lives in is quickly revealed: a squatted house where she lives with her father, her older brother, her soon-to-be stepmother, her stepmother’s daughter, and other people who sometimes seem like residents, sometimes like passersby. The environment is unstable, marked by parties, drugs, and a constant sense of transience. Bug doesn’t have a steady job and apparently lives off odd gigs. Bailey grew up without supervision, figuring everything out on her own — she’s rebellious, but mostly because no one has ever truly taken care of her. It’s a setting where neglect is more the rule than the exception. The moment when Bailey looks directly into the camera hits us hard — we feel like powerless witnesses, or maybe even accomplices. The direction and editing capture this chaotic, almost oppressive atmosphere very effectively, contrasting with the few moments of peace Bailey finds: among animals, in nature, or watching the videos she records in her room. The film can be seen as a coming of age — Bailey’s first period is perhaps the most visible marker of this transition. But not just hers: Bug, who had his first child at 14, is also maturing. The scene where, overcome by rage, he vents about how hard it was to be a father so young is one of the film’s most powerful. At times, he explicitly mentions the burden of being Bailey’s father, which makes the ending even more moving — not the wedding scene itself, but the moment when the three of them return from the train station, Bug listening to his “dad music.” There’s a sense of growth there that, if before came from survival, now seems to stem from affection and the power of time. The use of audiovisual language is effective. The insertion of video clips as if recorded on phones or shown on social media (split screens, interface effects) is used sparingly and works well. But the most interesting device is the use of brief memory flashes throughout the film: intimate moments that surface within scenes, as if we were seeing what Bailey is remembering internally while something else happens externally. Bird’s entrance, to me, is absolutely spot-on. There’s a tenderness and strangeness in the way he appears that seems like the only possible way to reach a heart as wounded as Bailey’s — someone who could only open up in the face of something unexpected, playful, and unlikely. I really appreciated how the magical element gradually intensifies: the interactions with animals evolve naturally, from the crow scene to Bird’s final transformation into a bird-man. His heroic gesture could easily have felt over-the-top or kitschy, but the film holds that moment with confidence — perhaps because it is so deeply grounded in the protagonist’s subjectivity. In the end, the film carries a beautiful message: that an unlikely friendship can change the course of a life. Bird speaks of pain and neglect with subtlety and finds, in fantasy and magical realism, a truthful — and profoundly human — way to tell a story of affection, healing, and hope. Rated 3.5/5 Stars •  Rated 3.5 out of 5 stars 05/14/25 Full Review Read all reviews

Bird

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