Bird

 

Director Andrea Arnold

Arnold with Jason Buda and Nykiya Adams

Arnold with her lead cast at Cannes

Cinematographer Robbie Ryan

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BIRD                          B+                                                                                                        Great Britain  USA  France  Germany  (119 mi)  2024  d: Andrea Arnold

This is the next century
Where the universal’s free
You can find it anywhere
Yes, the future has been sold

Every night we’re gone
And to karaoke songs
How we like to sing along
Though the words are wrong

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
When the days they seem to fall through you
Well, just let them go

No one here is alone
Satellites in every home
Yes, the universal’s here
Here for everyone

Every paper that you read
Says tomorrow is your lucky day
Well, here’s your lucky day

It really, really, really could happen
Yes, it really, really, really could happen
If the days they seem to fall through you
Well, just let them go

—The Universal by English alternative rock band Blur, 1995, inspired by Alex and his Droogs from Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971), Blur - The Universal (Official Video), Full HD (Digitally ... YouTube (3:55)

From the director of social realist films like RED ROAD (2006), FISH TANK (2009), and American Honey (2016), each of which won the Cannes Jury Prize (3rd Place), winning an Academy Award with her short film WASP (2003), converting to an overly abstract, experimental style in both Wuthering Heights (Arnold) (2011) and Cow (2021), this is a return to form for Arnold, an adrenaline-laced, kitchen sink exposé of a British underclass in the north Kent region (the same area where Arnold grew up) that feels like FISH TANK on steroids, where this is an aggressive, in-your-face assault to the senses, almost as if time and the film speed itself was sped up.  The raucous music adds an underlying layer of unbridled punk ferociousness, while the abstract, psychologically fractured style is unique, minimizing narrative form, instead creating a hallucinogenic atmosphere of drug-induced ferocity balanced against the internal world of a coming-of-age 12-year old Bailey (newcomer Nykiya Adams), who is vulnerable yet resilient, mature beyond her years, navigating her way through a suffocating atmosphere and a seemingly endless series of labyrinthean challenges, an extension of the young female protagonists in both FISH TANK and AMERICAN HONEY, where the creative sound design is phenomenal, making this one of the best edited films of the year, where you never really know where this is going.  As is Arnold’s style, rarely working with established actors, she allows an unknown lead character to literally carry the film, and Adams is electrifying, onscreen for nearly the entire film, yet this film defies expectations, adding surreal elements that simply alter the landscape, creating tonal shifts that are as wildly expressive as the furious post-punk of the Irish rock band Fontaines DC, where a punctuating opening song Too Real asks “Is it too real for ya?,” BIRD | Official Clip | In Theaters Now YouTube (1:36), a theme that permeates through every frame of the film, challenging viewers at every turn, upending any idea of what we’ve seen before, creating something entirely new, a brash expression of the new world order.  Bailey, who is black, straddles two families, one that is white, living with Barry Keoghan playing Bug, a mostly shirtless, perpetually loud and chaotic father to Bailey, literally adorned with insect tattoos, and her equally troubled older half-brother Hunter (Jason Buda), a family marked by dysfunction and hopelessness, and one that is black, as her mother, Peyton (Jasmine Jobson), lives in a decrepit drug house with three younger siblings on the other side of town, where the brazen abuse of her terrifying boyfriend Skate (James Nelson-Joyce, the nastiest piece of work in any Arnold film) and the paralyzing fear he generates, especially towards the children, adds a brutal dimension of extreme psychological harm in a tumultuously exploding world.  Bug, who doesn’t look much older than his kids (a father at 14), is a troublemaking knucklehead and drug dealer who doesn’t really concern himself with parenting in any real sense, as his virtually unemployable, irresponsible life is so out of control in their graffiti-strewn neighborhood that his constant diversions and distractions allow them to pretty much run their own lives, where in this world unsupervised children are the norm.  Featuring an extraordinary selection of music, Bird by Andrea Arnold (Soundtrack), so integral to the enveloping atmosphere, where Bug seems to have a particular affection for singing along with Blur - The Universal (Later... with Jools Holland 1995) - Full ... YouTube (4:01), a dystopian song that oozes a fake optimism, synonymous with an elated sense of Britpop promise in the 90’s that was subsequently crushed under a wave of conservatism, yet when he makes a surprise announcement that he’s going to get married, introducing Kayleigh (Frankie Box), who is a complete stranger, and Kayleigh’s baby daughter into their lives, Bailey is thoroughly disgusted by the idea, as their lives are already complicated enough.  “There’s no place like home” this isn’t.    

In an article for The Guardian in 2021, We are animals. We need to connect to the millions of non- ..., Arnold wrote:

Whenever I have felt troubled or lost or overwhelmed with life I have always sought nature.  It has always grounded me and put me in touch with myself again.  No one taught me this.  It came quite naturally.  Like some innate knowledge.  Partly I think because I had a very free childhood.  My mum had me very young, at 16, and three siblings followed by the time she was 22.  My dad was only a few years older.  I never saw him that much in my early years and he was gone completely by the time I was 10.

So, unsupervised most of the time, I lived a fantastically wild life.  I grew up in north Kent on an estate surrounded by liminal wilderness.  From early, I would spend entire days roaming wherever the fancy took me.  Between estates and chalk pits and deserted old industrial spaces and woods and motorways.  Out of this grew a deep love of insects and birds and animals and plants.  Stray estate dogs, the Traveller ponies chained by the motorway, the fish and frogs in the water-filled bomb site, wild strawberries on the banks of the chalk pits.  I can conjure up these places vividly now.  The smells and sounds and feels and colours.             

At Cannes the film won the Carrosse d’Or, or Golden Coach Award, bestowed by the Society of French Directors showcasing “innovative qualities, courage and independent-mindedness,” joining a distinguished group of past winners including Martin Scorsese, Werner Herzog, Jia Zhangke, Jane Campion, Jim Jarmusch, Kelly Reichardt, and Clint Eastwood, with Arnold tearfully indicating it was the toughest shoot of her career, and the most painful, with many more challenges than usual, making it particularly difficult to find the film she envisioned from the footage she shot, which may explain the kaleidoscopic editing structure that continually keeps viewers on edge.  Yet this also may be the most cinematic film she’s ever made, as Arnold fearlessly refuses to be pigeonholed as a social realist, capturing the extremes of the fantastical with the unending challenges of living in a world that is literally crumbling under your feet.  What’s different about this working class exposé is that nobody is actually working, or even going to school, leaving them precariously vulnerable to the violence that is seemingly everywhere, with no love in sight, where an escape from reality is a necessity, opening up a crack of light in an area otherwise consumed by rampant poverty and social decay.  Bailey is a sensitive and rebellious girl who lives in Gravesend, a Kent neighborhood mentioned in several Charles Dickens novels characterized by apartment blocks covered in graffiti and dysfunctional families, who doesn’t even have a bed, just a sleeping bag that she curls up in, spending much of her time alone, or sometimes with a group of young thugs in the area who view themselves as the “protectors,” targeting domestic abuse offenders with their own extremely violent, vigilante justice style brand of retribution.  But her life changes when she meets Bird (Franz Rogowski), a mysterious wanderer who appears out of nowhere doing a twirl for her camera dressed in a kilt in search of his birth parents he has never known, and while she’s initially wary, keeping her distance, she ultimately decides to help him in his search, as he seems to have a special connection with children, eventually making a deeply profound personal connection, where he takes on the role of her guardian angel.  Her innocence stands in stark contrast to the shadowy underworld dealings of her manic father, who spends a good amount of time attempting to persuade a Colorado River toad to secrete a slimy hallucinogenic substance, something he thinks will make him a fortune, or at least pay for his wedding, but this only seems to happen when he plays “sincere,” old-style “Dad music” that he hates, hilariously turning to Coldplay’s rendition of Coldplay - Yellow (Official Video) YouTube (4:32), which seems to work like a charm.  Bailey has a habit of filming what she sees on her phone, including the flight of birds, butterflies, horses, or disturbing moments of violence, as well as her initial meeting with Bird, all of which comprise a personal journal, like diary entries that document her evolving life, projecting her videos on the walls of her room at night, though sometimes they just run through her mind, showing us the world through her eyes.  Captured through a dizzyingly frenetic handheld camera, reflective of the emotional inner instability of these lives, so fragile against the eruptive violence that surrounds them, yet there is poetry to be found in the wretched ugliness of life on the poorest margins of society, where there are flashes of mysterious and dreamy moments, like the camera pointing upwards to the sky, or seeing Bird continually standing atop a high-rise building, recalling the reckless impulsiveness and daredevil games of the alienated high school youth in Toshiaki Toyoda’s Blue Spring (Aoi haru) (2001) or the angels perched atop the ledges of skyscrapers high above the city in Wim Wenders’ Wings of Desire (Der Himmel über Berlin) (1987).   

With references to Vittorio De Sica’s MIRACLE IN MILAN (1951), where protagonists escape the misery of postwar ruins by broomstick, a neo-realist fable that no one complained about, by the way, ranked 3rd on Cahiers du Cinéma’s Top 10 Films of the Year List in 1951, or more overtly Ken Loach’s KES (1969), as both realistically portray, with poetic elements, the daily lives of teenagers who take refuge from their harsh reality through a friendship with birds, this film depicts a turbulent transition from childhood to womanhood, struggling with everyday problems, where nothing is remotely straightforward, continually taking strange detours along the way, becoming, in essence, a metamorphosis in action, where the ideas just keep coming.  Despite her tender age in a time of transition, Bailey has to deal with much greater conflicts and responsibilities, where we are literally lured into her child’s-eye view of the world, showing the brutality of forgotten environments that children are forced to live in, where there is seemingly no place for them, as the entire system has failed them, suggesting they are able to dream of freedom (“It really, really, really could happen”) beyond the squalor that surrounds them.  Shot on 16mm by Arnold regular Robbie Ryan, who also works with Ken Loach and Yorgos Lanthimos, this rich and layered film is most of all an exhilarating experience, easily her most “out there” film, as the audacity of the “what the fuck” factor screams originality, skillfully told with striking empathy and ingenuity, where some have criticized elements of CGI magical realism mixed in, something never seen before in an Andrea Arnold film, but they feel more like surreal moments, as the transformations are completely in character, initially manifested with relative subtlety until the film explodes with the full force of unleashed creativity, where viewers need to keep an open mind on the power of cinematic suggestion.  Having the courage to make outrageous narrative choices leads the film on unexpected paths, like the perilous side journeys Odysseus takes in The Odyssey, while also grasping a child’s state of grace and wonder that recalls Benh Zeitlin’s 2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #1 Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012), as otherwise this might be mired in miserablism or poverty porn, yet this feels elevated and empowering, completely grounded in a grim reality, yet it’s so much more rewarding, both bleak and hopeful all at once, literally transcending the material, as there’s a surprise in nearly every shot.  Arnold seems to specialize in stories of neglected and endangered girls on the verge of becoming young women while living in brutal or inhospitable environments, yet this adds another layer, namely Bailey’s fascination with birds, while she also may be queer, or at least leaning in that direction, showing an aversion to girly things, where her self-absorbed father is just too oblivious to notice, or care.  Yet one of the featured aspects of the film is a parallel curiosity about parenting, as Bird is as interested in his journey of discovery about his missing parents as Bailey is with unlocking the buried secrets of hers, leading to a powerfully dynamic and emotionally riveting conclusion, with these revelations beautifully interwoven into the film, where one of the questions this film asks is whether we can ever really be free of the trauma that shaped our lives.  The raw, unforgiving world of Arnold’s movies and the struggles of these young girls to survive are brutally honest observations that are overwhelmingly truthful and sincere, embracing life’s imperfections, accentuating class disparity and familial neglect while offering resilience in the face of adversity, tenderness in the face of chaos, where the poetic excursions are like an epiphany that only add, not detract, from the film’s overall impact, as it simply refuses to end in tragedy, and continues to play out over the end credits.  Difficult, experimental, and ambiguous, yet exquisite.    

Blue Spring (Aoi haru)

 

Director Toshiaki Toyoda

BLUE SPRING (Aoi haru)      B                                                                                                    Japan  (83 mi)  2001  d: Toshiaki Toyoda

No regrets for my youth.                                                                                                                 —Kimura (Yûsuke Ohshiba)

An often overlooked, heavily stylized movie about the disillusioned youth-gone-wild high school experience from those already on the edge, who don’t know where they’re going or have any idea where they’ll end up, as they don’t really want to be there, who are so distanced and alienated that they may as well not exist, so they invent violent games to play to force their lives to matter, turning into a nihilistic punk movie with a homoerotic and even gay subtext that is only inferred, never explicitly shown, more metaphoric than real, as it reveals the essence of the horrors of the high school experience through a grotesque and often brutally exaggerated portrayal.  Toyoda was a child chess prodigy as an adolescent before changing his interest to cinema, working as a scriptwriter and assistant director on Sakamoto Junji’s CHECKMATE (1991) and BIRIKEN (1996) before launching his own career, where this is his third film.  An unorthodox director who likes to do things his own way, featuring a strong grunge/punk rock aesthetic and a willingness to be different, Toyoda has established himself as one of the more interesting contemporary Japanese directors, but not really known outside of Japan.  Never mentioned in the same breath as Hirokazu Kore-eda, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, or Takashi Miike, more familiar Japanese directors whose films have reached an international audience, Toyoda’s reputation suffered setbacks from two well publicized scandals, as he was arrested for drug possession in 2005, while in 2019 he was arrested again when a police raid uncovered an illegal antique firearm from WWII that he inherited from his grandmother, falsely as it turns out, as the firearm was no longer working, but he was shunned by the Japanese film industry afterwards, with both events becoming the subject of sensational tabloid coverage in Japan.  Often viewed as a cult director, he has an unorthodox, stylized aesthetic that includes youth crime movies, meditative dramas, documentaries, and low-budget art films, whose work is consistently introspective, vibrant, and brutal, but this early film, born in anger, touching a raw nerve, is his most scathing reflection of real-world anxieties in the economic downturn of Japan in the mid-90’s, when an economy that was the envy of the world went into a tailspin, moving from one of the fastest-growing countries in the world to one of the slowest, dismantling the job-for-life system that its corporations had previously offered, literally ripping the futures away from these disaffected kids.  Japan experienced an increase in school violence during the 80’s and 90’s, where some disturbing attacks from teenagers made big headlines and shocked the nation, like the Murder of Junko Furuta.  First and foremost is the rebellious music, [Engsub] DROP - THEE MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT 「Blue ... YouTube (6:44), an assaultive force of teen angst that lingers in the imagination, evoking the raw and unpolished spirit of youth, often combined with a free-flowing, slow motion aesthetic from cinematographer Norimichi Kasamatsu, who also shot Junji’s BIRIKEN (1996), less plot-driven, more interested in atmosphere, abstractions, ambiguity, and the chaotic nature of the character interaction, with very limited locations, providing an honest look at the hidden anger and rage of teenage emotions, reaching the depths of the darkest realms.

Coming at a time when the adolescent high school genre already appeared passé, having been graced with a slew of films that touched upon familiar themes of alienated youth, like George Lucas’ American Graffiti (1973), Francis Ford Coppola’s RUMBLE FISH (1983) and THE OUTSIDERS (1983), John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club (1985), Hou Hsiao-hsien’s A Time to Live and a Time to Die (Tong nien wang shi) (1985) and Dust in the Wind (Lian lian feng chen) (1986), John Waters’ HAIRSPRAY (1988), Michael Lehman’s Heathers (1988), Allan Moyle’s PUMP UP THE VOLUME (1990), Edward Yang’s A Brighter Summer Day (Gu ling jie shao nian sha ren shi jian) (1991), Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused (1993), André Téchiné’s Wild Reeds (Les Roseaux Sauvages) (1994), Wes Anderson’s Rushmore (1998), Lukas Moodysson’s Show Me Love (Fucking Åmål) (1998), Alexander Payne’s Election (1999), Shunji Iwai’s ALL ABOUT LILY CHOU-CHOU (2001), and Terry Zwigoff’s Ghost World (2001).  Based on Taiyô Matsumoto’s manga of the same title in 1993, a collection of seven different stories, this was the break-through film for both Toyoda and actor Ryuhei Matsuda, who is the undisputed star of this film, appearing earlier as the passive, overly effeminate samurai in Nagisa Ôshima’s GOHATTO (1999).  He is the enigmatic figure at the center of this teen drama that looks like it’s taking place in a post-apocalyptic war zone, as this cement bunker of a building is a run-down high school for boys that looks more like a prison, as the dark and grungy hallways are nearly always deserted, accentuated by heavy doses of graffiti on the walls that proclaim gang turf, where there’s an astonishing absence of school authority, while the outside world barely intrudes upon its secluded existence, making this a very unique portrayal, uncomfortable at times yet oddly compelling.  An aimlessness seems to define the psychological mindset of these wayward teens, which includes Kujo (Matsuda Ryuhei) his loyal childhood friend Aoki (Hirofumi Arai) who idolizes him, surrounded by a host of others, Yukio (Sousuke Takaoka), Yoshimura (Shûgo Oshinari), Kimura (Yûsuke Ohshiba), a disenchanted figure who dreams of playing on the Nationals baseball team, and Ota (Yûta Yamazaki), who seem to follow their every lead.  All dressed in the same dark school uniform, mostly they wander the hallways and bathrooms as a free-ranging gang terrorizing fellow students with impunity, going on rampages inflicting sadistic cruelty at every turn, where their lives hold little meaning, lost to a neverending world of inflicted misery, having been written off by the school long ago as lost causes.  Anyone coming from a shitty high school can relate to this, where the mantra may as well be, “Hatred hurts, but an abundance of hatred hurts the most,” leading to a regretful world of apathy and indifference.  Never once do we see any parents, while the teachers or school counselors are completely ignored, with students wandering in and out of class at will, instead this is about the social fabric of this underground group that seems to exist on its own terms, unfettered by the rules of society or the school, yet their own hierarchy is completely ineffectual, consumed by a deep-seeded sense of powerlessness in a crumbling social system, exposing a painfully rich subtext of raw, desperate emotion struggling to break through the surface.

Rebellion is the key ingredient to this film, THEE MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT - Akage No Kelly (赤毛の ... YouTube (5:45), but rebellion against what is the question in this dilapidated school in the suburban outskirts of Tokyo that seems to have no established authority, so they seem to exist in a vacuum, with no future and no past, portraying the loneliness and isolation inside the minds of a hopeless yet excessively violent youth.  As if to amuse themselves from the boredom, they invent a rooftop game that is a test of courage, yet also plays into suicidal tendencies, as they stand on the outer railing of the roof with nothing beneath them but ground below, holding on by their hands as numbers are called out in succession.  They clap their hands to the same number being called out before latching back onto the rails, each one growing successively more dangerous, as they could easily plunge to their deaths.  It’s a modern day version of the game of chicken depicted in Nicholas Ray’s Rebel Without a Cause (1955), where they drive cars off the edge of a cliff, and the last to jump out is the winner.  Whoever wins the game is declared the leader of the group, which rules all the gangs in the high school.  When Kujo wins the leadership role, Aoki is excited, but he wants his friend to exact violence and revenge to wipe out their enemies.  Kujo, however, has no interest in doing this, finding his position meaningless, as he never wanted the leadership position, where his air of aloofness is stunning, bored by the violence and hatred that surrounds him, apparently ruling by disinterest, explaining to a strangely sympathetic teacher, “People who know what they want scare me.”  Aoki soon tires of his secondary role, as Kujo hardly pays any attention to him anymore, spiraling into a void, losing interest in everything, so he starts pummeling kids on his own to assert his dominance.  In their last year of high school, most kids are preparing for their future, but in this film they have no future, where the only thing that awaits their dead-end path is a place in the hierarchy of the yakuza, a criminal underworld enterprise who recruit directly from the high school ranks, which are little more than a training ground for organized crime, Blue Spring (2001) - best scene YouTube (3:03).  Aoki transforms himself into an entirely new look, embarking on a campaign of terror hoping to impress Kujo, but he’s devastated when he instead ignores him and couldn’t care less.  As Aoki becomes disillusioned, alienated, and even hostile toward Kujo, who has no interest in the violence of the yakuza lifestyle, friends around them slowly disappear, as whatever friendships or allegiances that once existed seem to have faded away, like a dried up flower.  The nonchalance of Kujo and the bleakness of school life are contrasted with the bright, colorful appearance of cherry blossoms in bloom, which are seen everywhere around the school, offering a luxurious glimpse of beauty, with suggestions that more lies beyond what we see onscreen, which includes Kujo, who grows increasingly philosophical, even taking an interest in the flower gardens run by a diminutive teacher (Mame Yamada) who urges him to tend to flowers in bloom, a clear metaphor for adolescence.  An impressively stylish time-lapse sequence leads to a stunning finale exhibiting a kind of reckless impulsiveness, Blue Spring (青い春, Aoi haru) 2002 YouTube (6:37), where you literally stare into the eye of fatalistic gloom, and all that’s left is a harrowing sense of unending despair.