'biRd' Review

By Nadia Dalimonte

A still from Bird, courtesy of MUBI Canada

“It really really really could happen.” These six words are sung to Andrea Arnold’s hopeful tune in Bird, a rare gem of ethereal beauty. Arnold blends realism and surrealism to paint a vulnerable portrait of adolescence. In this portrait of moving images, Arnold speaks to the youth of today’s generation who are faced prematurely with the responsibilities of adulthood. Often left to their own devices, they search for which paths feel safest to survive on. Sometimes those paths emerge in the form of a spiritual bond, a spark that cannot fully be explained but is nonetheless vital in existing. Bird exists in the magic realism of such a connection, one that gives communities on society’s fringes the visibility they so deeply deserve.

Set in the British suburbs of North Kent, Bird orbits the fragmented world of twelve-year old Bailey (newcomer Nykiya Adams). Bailey lives with her teen brother Hunter (Jason Buda), her dad Bug (Barry Keoghan), Bug’s girlfriend and soon-to-be wife Kayleigh (Frankie Box), and Kayleigh’s baby daughter. It’s a full house of clashing personalities and uninhibited expression, a powerful cocktail of humanistic sensibilities. As Bailey navigates her interior conflicts and emotional retreats from family dynamics, she meets a transient character named Bird (Franz Rogowski). His mysterious presence evokes a dreamlike state, as he appears seemingly out of thin air. Bird is searching for his family, which comes to align with Bailey’s coming-of-age journey.

Arnold infuses Bird with the gritty realism one warmly expects from her work. Through observational writing and empathetic direction, she holds space for a candid exploration of characters and settings. In doing so, Arnold captures moments of unadorned magic, details specific to being in the right place at the right time. Simply put, she sees people, not just for who they appear to be but who they hope to become. She creates down-to-earth heroines like Bailey, whose fierce inner strength and determination to keep herself grounded become a driving force for the narrative. When Arnold takes the story to an ethereal place of otherness with Bird’s character, the film transcends narrative expectations. A spiritual bond gradually washes over the broken-down British landscape, and with that, Bird shape shifts before our very eyes. The changing energies of this ambitious fable would not hit as hard without a remarkably introspective performance at the center.

​From Kate Dickie in 2006’s Red Road and Katie Jarvis in 2009’s Fish Tank to Sasha Lane in 2016’s American Honey, Arnold has crafted three of the most layered and confident female characters on screen. The filmmaker’s exceptional eye for newcomer talent continues with Bird. In a fiercely brilliant feature debut, Nykiya Adams carries the weight of Bailey’s journey on her shoulders. The character’s staying power often rests in moments of introspection and pent up frustration, which Adams excels at. Whether looking out for her mother Peyton (Jasmine Jobson) and younger sisters who live in an abusive household, or wrestling with the acceptance of her father’s life choices, she makes every moment ring true. With vulnerability and vitality, she gives herself over to a compelling exploration of girlhood.

Most impressively, Adams shines in conveying the spiritual connection that Bailey finds in Bird. Their relationship bridges the film’s ambitious movement into surrealism. Given how the characters’ dynamic often unfolds in readings of facial expressions and body language, both flourish in the hands of Adams and Rogowski. The always enigmatic Rogowski delivers another extraordinary performance of soothing, inviting demeanor. His presence evokes dreaminess, yearning, sadness, and everything in between. The depiction of Bird proves to be absolutely crucial, not only for the surrealist shift in tone but also for the arc of Bailey’s journey. Rogowski’s tenderness lays the groundwork for one of the most powerful endings of a film this year; Arnold catches lighting in a bottle.

In establishing a sense of community for characters, the film also catches terrific little interactions between the actors. A jolt of lightning himself, Barry Keoghan is electric whenever he appears on screen. He nails the communal, working-class spirit of Bug. Additionally, he has the charisma and intuitiveness to bring extra layers to Bug’s personality. You can’t help but be swept up in the character’s wild ride through life, as he dashes between hectic scenarios and makes a point to indulge in joyous moments. The majority of such moments revolve around music. There’s the amusing reference of Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s 'Murder On The Dancefloor' from Saltburn. Then there’s the one-two punch of Coldplay’s 'Yellow' and Blur’s 'The Universal' in two stellar karaoke scenes that arrive at the most opportune moments. Music plays an effective role in finding a melodic pace, notably through the hypnotic original score by British electronic musician Burial. Whether the inspired needle drops or Burial’s dazzling sound, these components fit neatly into Arnold's vision of blending realism with surrealism.

Bird unfolds in a trance of playful, grounded filmmaking. With a neat incorporation of cellphone footage, depicting how today's youth live through screens, the film immerses into Bailey’s perspective. Chaotic as her world is, Arnold holds space for moments of profound stillness and care. Every now and then, we slow down with Bailey as she watches birds in the sky, longing for the ability to take flight from broken grounds. It is on these same grounds that she finds her path towards spiritual healing, and is soothed by six of the most comforting words a young person can hear. “Everything is going to be okay."

Watch Bird in theaters in Canada starting November 8.