Bird

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.

A bit of a coming of age movie, in a racially mixed working class environment. Beautifully filmed, creative, choice soundtrack, and awesome acting by all!

“ Bird : Un sapo, una niña y ¡Coldplay!” Esta película se me hizo difícil al inicio, pero termina cautivando, sobre todo gracias a la música. Sigue a Bailey (Nykiya Adams), una niña de 12 años que vive con su padre Bug (Barry Keoghan) y su hermano Hunter (Jason Buda) en un barrio complicado. Cuando Bug decide casarse, Bailey se siente desplazada y molesta, lo que genera un fuerte conflicto interno. Al principio me costó conectar; la sentí vacía, sin alma. Pero todo cambió a partir del minuto 20, cuando aparece Bird (Franz Rogowski). Su relación con Bailey es natural, mágica, y a partir de ahí empecé a ver la película con otros ojos. Vemos cómo Bailey lucha por sobresalir, por ser escuchada, por ser feliz en un entorno que parece apagarla. Bug, a quien odié al principio, terminó sorprendiéndome. Todos los personajes tienen un giro, sobre todo Bird, que en un punto se vuelve una figura casi metafórica, y eso transforma el guion en algo inesperadamente mágico, en el buen sentido. La dirección de Andrea Arnold es potente: saca lo mejor del elenco, especialmente de Nykiya Adams. Usa cámara en mano, planos secuencia, primeros planos, y la música juega un papel clave. Hay una escena donde le cantan Yellow de Coldplay a un sapo que es tan absurda como conmovedora. La fotografía es buena, aunque no lo que más destaco. Las dos horas se sienten largas, pero necesarias. En resumen, Una película que cuesta al principio, pero termina tocando el alma. Con música, ternura y una dirección íntima, se transforma en un viaje emocional sobre crecer, ser vista y querer ser feliz, incluso en medio del caos.

I love her films...is that wrong, given they're so real and sometimes harrowing. This has something magical in it and the end made me cry. More please.

Reminiscent of the other Andrea Arnold films (Fish Tank, American Honey) but with some fantasy or magical realism included. Much in the same league as those other two, with similar social issues and a teenage female protagonist

Bird is a beautifully authentic film, a film about family and coping with family. Acclaimed director Andrea Arnold always makes film brimming with social realism and Bird does this but also adds on a layer of magical realism. The film is set in Kent where we meet Bailey, the 12 year old daughter of Bug. They live in a run down area in a decrepit apartment block. Bug is near broke but always has new schemes to make money. He is about to remarry too, to Kayleigh. Bailey is not pleased with this. Bailey also has a half brother too, in Hunter, who is part of a strange young vigilante group. Then we have Bird. Bailey meets Bird, an odd and slightly mystical character who is searching for his mother. The film really dives deep into their lives with biting realism. But there are also elements of magical realism floating through the film as well. It's a strong and robust film with great performances. Barry Keoghan and Franz Rogowski are great as expected but newcomer Nykiya Adams almost steals the film. This is a superb film that should stay with you long after the credits end.

Beautiful film, love at the core regardless of the dysfunction

What a great film, I was thoroughly transfixed throughout. I might be biased as I was born and raised in Gravesend so particularly liked seeing the familiar scenery! Very thought provoking, loved all the characters, gritty, sadly true to life in that part of our world.

Loved it! I was totally held by this beautiful film, reminds me of the colours of Martin Parr photography. Oh, Barrie overacts a bit , maybe a Kent bloke would have been better, and too many crap tattoos on him to believable.

The magical aspect of the movie came as late surprise, though the raven's helping with Hunter's note to Moon serves as some kind of foreshadowing for it. The movie was engaging in a strange way. Chaos and dilapidation from the get-go cannot get any worse, and hope must be on its way. And I wasn't disappointed!