The film tells the story of 12-year-old Bailey (Nykiya Adams)'s difficult life. She is homeless, her parents abuse drugs, her friends are mired in gang crime, and she cannot receive a formal education. The story is set in the dilapidated North Kent of director Andrea Arnold's childhood.
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02-22, 2025Bailey lives in a derelict apartment with her half-brother Hunter (Jason Buda) and her single father, Bug (Barry Keoghan). Bug is addicted to drugs, emotionally immature, and almost as much on the edge of adolescence as his children. When Bug announces his upcoming marriage to Kelly, whom he has known for three months, Bailey's carefully constructed facade of normalcy begins to crumble, and Kelly also has a young daughter.
Bailey struggles with gender identity and the arrival of her first period, trying to understand all the changes happening in her life, until she finds solace in a character named "Bird" (Franz Rogowski). "Bird" is a mysterious outsider whom Bailey encounters by chance after spending the night in a paddock. Bug is a loving but neglectful father who raises Bailey in the way he knows best - constantly yelling at her, making her do things she doesn't want to do, and taking her for a ride around town on his back. Keoghan's effortless portrayal of Bug's oscillation between paternal love and uselessness demonstrates his ability to shape characters, making Bug seem well-meaning but misguided.
When Bailey goes to visit her biological mother, you quickly realize how lucky she is. Bailey's mother is trapped in a relationship with a violent man, living in a house crowded with drug-addicted visitors, and she and her young half-sisters are in danger. Adams delivers a superb performance as the aloof Bailey, who has become accustomed to being abandoned by those who should care for her, but she also holds a wealth of kindness and responsibility for those she loves, a range that gradually expands to include "Bird."
Rogowski interprets "Bird" with a refined and ethereal performance. He is simple, childlike, and, like Bailey, does not conform to gender norms. His unreserved openness confuses her, despite her deep-seated distrust of people. Every day she takes the elevator to visit "Bird" on the roof of an old abandoned building, and every night she falls asleep under "Bird's" gaze, who is almost like a guardian angel. Arnold is less concerned with the material realities of Bailey's life - we almost never see her eat, and the rhythm of her life unfolds completely outside the usual constraints of a teenage girl's life. The director is more concerned with the fleeting nature of life on the margins.
The cinematography in "Bird" often mimics the chaos of Bailey's young life - it is unsteady, casual, and at her eye level, showing the frightening breadth and clamor of the world. Bailey's life is mediated through her phone, and she projects videos from her phone onto the graffiti-covered walls where she lives. For a film that focuses on heavy themes, "Bird" never feels superfluous in its depiction of its dark material. For every unwashed plate, untidy bathroom, and chilling directness of domestic violence that you might find in a nightclub rather than at home, there is an appreciation for nature, birds, and their restorative properties. Arnold showcases the interconnectedness of a small, tight-knit community where everyone knows each other, and the simple pleasure of riding around town on an electric scooter.
The surreal, fantastical imagery, characteristic of Arnold's diverse cinematic style, is combined with the humor that underpins the realism (a casually uttered line from Keoghan may or may not reference a notorious dance scene from "Saltburn"). The soundtrack of hits from the 90s and early 2000s adds to this levity. You'll never see a group of men intent on making Bug rich quick with toad sweat hallucinogens perform "Yellow" more enthusiastically (yes, you read that right). Blur's "The Universal" is the film's unofficial score, often appearing in Bug's rehearsed rendition - complete with killer dance moves - leading up to his wedding.
Damon Albarn's hopeful chorus, "It really, really, really could happen / When the days they seem to fall through you / Well just let them go," suggests the vast possibilities in Bailey's daily life, enhanced by the arrival of "Bird." The mystery of "Bird's" identity adds a sense of urgency to this film, which unfolds at an occasionally leisurely pace, with too many portentous shots of birds soaring. When "Bird" begins searching for his biological parents, who used to live on a local estate, Bailey devises a plan to save her half-sisters from their stepfather's rage. Both of these efforts ultimately lead to surprising revelations.
Arnold tells a magical and indomitable story about people cast aside by self-perpetuating cycles of drug addiction, poverty, and neglect. But at its heart, "Bird" is about the joy that can be found in constellations of family - whether they are the families we are born into or the families we create for ourselves.
