TIFF’s “Bird” Flies High But Doesn’t Exactly Find its Inner Flap – front mezz junkies, Theater News

The TIFF Film Review: Andrea Arnold’s Bird

By Ross

Seagulls fly overhead, captured on video for projection later on in the pseudo privacy of a curtained-off space where the young, smart, but achingly isolated lonely Bailey, played with a raw passion by a captivating newcomer Nykiya Adams, eeks out an existence against all odds. The symbolism in “Bird”, although pretty straightforward, is at the core of this dynamic imperfect film, directed and written with equal passion by Andrea Arnold (“American Honey“). With high-flying heart-pounding cinematography by Robbie Ryan (“Poor Things“), “Bird” dives into the caged landscape of the film’s central figure as she attempts to navigate the chaotic landscape she calls home under the watchful eye of her flawed but passionate father, Bug, played by a determined Barry Keoghan (“Saltburn“) with his body covered in random tatts that illicit both his name and his survival instinct. He’s a wild-eyed bloke, both caring and violent, with edges blurred by drug and alcohol use jammed up against a desire for love and to care. It’s a complicated scenario that forces our hand in all directions, yet we can’t help but place our hope in this determined intelligent pre-teen and jump on back for the ride. 

Trapped in survival mode with a manic parental figure, riding shirtless through the streets of their town, singing and screaming loud into the wind, the heart of this film lies in Bailey as she runs and tries to escape the inevitable, seeking revenge in dangerous situations with a gang of teens, including her sympathetic half-brother, who seem to be attacking injustice in their own violent manner. It’s social commentary on a fast dangerous but required scooter, with images of flights and travel giving way to a seemingly random encounter in a horse field with a Puck-like wanderer named Bird. Fascinatingly portrayed by Franz Rogowski (“Victoria“), this compelling creation draws the angry Bailey in, and she can’t help herself by following this oddball character through the streets of their shared neighborhood after asking her for directions and help. Bird, the outsider dressed in a non-tartan kilt and imprinted with an out-of-place accent, is searching for his family, but the parallels of need are not lost on any of us. It’s clear, right from the moment the wind blows him in, who this creature is and why they need each other in this moment, as they attempt to discover the feeling of family and a sense of belonging. 

Filled to overflowing with warmth and poetry, Bird stands tall looking over the land and our young heroine. We feel his care and understand his purpose, and in their interactions, especially around Bailey’s other family unit, centered on a problematic mother, her other younger children, and a horrific boyfriend who is somewhat overdone in that stereotypical kind of way. We see the brutal conflict approaching, as Bailey’s hand is forced in all directions to both accept one outcome, centered around life and family, and take action, around another which has violence and control jammed inside its garbage-laden core.

The layerings of identity and the value of family/community resonate, unpacking the trauma and frustration inherent in this world for a young person growing up into an adult, flapping hard against all the sexism and cruelty that this world can blow at them. The film is chaotic and relevant, eliciting strong emotional reactions within, as we flutter with fantasy and our inner yearnings for the lead character’s salvation. Even in its moments of stereotypical cliche and inner flap, the core isn’t as flighty as the premise, and we can’t help but finally embrace the soaring of Bird.