Film of the Week: ‘Bird’ – The fantastical tale we need right now

Andrea Arnold’s new film manages to fuse social and magical realism, in a harsh yet uplifting tale that will leave you ready to take flight.

After the week we’ve had, some escapism is needed – nay, desperately required.
Some will choose to reacquaint themselves with the bleak futures depicted in works by Margaret Atwood and George Orwell, as dystopian books have been flying off the shelves since Donald Trump was re-elected.
Others will seek refuge in films, hoping that a brief window of cinematic reverie can temporarily dispel reminders of catastrophic floods, ongoing wars, and the fact that a convicted felon, bigot and legally branded sex offender has been given the keys to the White House once more.
It all may seem a little futile considering the onslaught of depressing news we’re up against, but one film out this week will convince you that hope can survive in turmoil.
For her new film, British director Andrea Arnold (Fish Tank, American Honey) teams up with the ubiquitous Barry Keoghan, festival favourite Franz Rogowski, and newcomer Nykiya Adams, who plays 12-year-old Bailey. We meet her sharing a moment with a seagull – a brief window of tranquillity in an otherwise troubled life.
Bailey lives in a squat in North Kent with her livewire / overgrown child of a father Bug (a heavily tattooed Barry Keoghan) and her half-brother Hunter (Jason Buda).
After a three-month relationship, Bug announces quite flippantly that he’s going to get married to Kayleigh (Frankie Box), who will be moving in – much to Bailey’s chagrin. Bug doesn’t have the money for a wedding, but no bother, as his new get-rich-quick venture will save the day. This includes finding the right kind of music to play to an imported “drug toad” so that the amphibian will produce hallucinogenic slime he can sell.
Quite the entrepreneur, that one. And the fourth wall-breaking music connoisseur, as Keoghan’s character dismisses ‘Murder on the Dance Floor’ as an appropriate song choice – a cheeky wink for anyone in the audience aching for a Saltburn callback.
Bailey is something of an outsider. Not only to her dad, but to her whole chaotic community.
As much as she tries to fit in with the local gang, who dish out violent justice to people who inflict pain upon their families or friends, she’d much rather spend her time documenting her surroundings on her phone: seagulls, crows, a horse in a field… Anything which provides a safe distance from the reality of her surroundings.
It’s in that field where she meets Bird (Franz Rogowski).
Prior to their encounter, she angrily shouts “Come on!” to the heavens, as if conjuring him into existence.
He’s an eccentrically dressed and wayward free spirt, a sort of thrift shop Mary Poppins, who approaches an initially wary Bailey.
“It’s beautiful,” he comments.
“What?” replies Bailey.
“The day.”
Bird is everything Bug and all of the men in Bailey’s life aren’t: he’s kind.
She can’t help but be curious about this otherworldly presence with a strange name, who frequently perches on rooftops like Bruno Ganz in Wings of Desire.
Her draw towards him is hardly surprising, as beyond the empathy he shows her, Bailey is surrounded by animals – the butterflies in her room, her pop’s inked insects, and the birds she seems to share a connection with. They, like some of the graffiti that populates the walls of her existence (“Wake up, beautiful”; “Don’t worry”), seem to suggest that there is more to life than her drab existence and it’s waiting to burst out and lift her up.
The clues around her may be tough to spot, accept, or not dismiss as merely a coping mechanism. But they’re there.
Bailey and Bird’s friendship centres around helping him to find his family, as we learn that he was originally from a nearby council block but went missing many moons ago, and has lost track of his parents.
From the description above, Bird can sound a little coming-of-age twee, but nothing could be further from that reductive label.
Arnold strikes a delicate balance by fusing social and magical realism, and never overplays her hand and the fairytale leanings Bird embraces. There’s palpable melancholy and darkness throughout, and while Fish Tank is a familiar touchstone here, it’s a very different film compared to her previous works.
Some may be thrown by this, expecting Bird to remain grounded in Arnold’s depiction of marginalized existences in broken-Britain. However, the writer-director, buoyed by Robbie Ryan’s tactile cinematography, manages to find a unique space where feel-good aspirations and broken dreams can coexist in an emotionally generous way.
Arnold also proves that she has an unparalleled talent not only for offering an empathetic and non-judgemental viewpoint of deeply flawed and emotionally volatile characters, but also for directing unknown young performers. Like with Katie Jarvis (Fish Tank) or Sasha Lane (American Honey), Arnold gives centre stage to Nykiya Adams, who carries the show, and manages to hold her own faced with her more seasoned cast mates. Her performance manages to speak volumes without necessarily vocalizing pain, juggling both strength and vulnerability without having one overshadow the other.
And then there’s that soundtrack, one of the best you’ll hear all year. There are some brilliantly employed needle drops from Fontaines D.C., Blur, The Verve, and even Rednex. Each track perfectly complements the mood of every scene. And any film that can drop Coldplay’s overplayed ‘Yellow’ and make it speak to the film’s theme of metamorphosis (“Your skin / Oh yeah your skin and bones / Turned into something beautiful”) and give you unexpected goosebumps is worth treasuring.
Nothing shall be spoiled as to where Bird goes, even if some developments are fairly predictable, as enough fantastical hints are dropped throughout so that the big swing reveal doesn’t feel so surprising. However, it doesn’t have to be; it reveals this incredibly poignant film to be about finding the uplifting in everyday unrest, and how letting metamorphosis (in all its forms) change you for the better is always worth it.
“Don’t you worry – everything will be ok,” Bird tells Bailey in their final moments together.
Thanks to Andrea Arnold, you’ll leave this film ready to believe his uplifting words, and prepped to take flight.
We all could use that empowering feeling and some happy tears right now. Don’t deprive yourself of them – or Bird.
Bird premiered at this year’s Cannes Film Festival and is out now.