鈥淚s it too real for ya?鈥� blares in the background of latest film, 鈥淏ird,鈥� a 12-year-old Bailey (Nykiya Adams) rides with her shirtless, tattoo-covered dad, Bug (Barry Keoghan), on his electric scooter past scenes of poverty in working-class Kent.
The song鈥檚 question 鈥� courtesy of the Irish post-punk band Fontains D.C. 鈥� is an acute one for 鈥淏ird.鈥� Arnold鈥檚 films ( 鈥淔ish Tank鈥�) are rigorous in their gritty naturalism. Her fiction films 鈥� this is her first in eight years 鈥� tend toward bleak, hand-held verit茅 in rough-and-tumble real-world locations. Her last film, documented a mother cow separated from her calf on a dairy farm.
Arnold specializes in capturing souls, human and otherwise, in soulless environments. A dream of something more is tantalizing just out of reach. In 鈥淎merican Honey,鈥� peace comes to Star (Sasha Lane) only when she submerges underwater.
In 鈥淏ird,鈥� though, this sense of otherworldly possibility is made flesh, or at least feathery. After a confusing night, Bailey awakens in a field where she encounters a strange figure in a skirt ( ) who arrives, like Mary Poppins, with a gust a wind. His name, he says, is Bird. He has a soft sweetness that doesn鈥檛 otherwise exist in Bailey鈥檚 hardscrabble and chaotic life.
She鈥檚 skeptical of him at first, but he keeps lurking about, hovering gull-like on rooftops. He cranes his neck now and again like he鈥檚 watching out for Bailey. And he does watch out for her, helping Bailey through a hard coming of age: the abusive boyfriend (James Nelson-Joyce) of her mother (Jasmine Jobson); her half brother (Jason Buda) slipping into vigilante violence; her father marrying a new girlfriend.
The introduction of surrealism has the ironic effect of breaking the spell that has marked Arnold鈥檚 best films. 鈥淏ird,鈥� which opens in theaters Friday, is, like the writer-director鈥檚 vivid previous work, a movie only she could make. Arnold has described it as the hardest thing she鈥檚 ever created, and it鈥檚 easy to applaud her for grasping at something in 鈥淏ird鈥� that ultimately is just out of reach. A resolutely realistic filmmaker turning to magical realism has the uncomfortable effect of making the whole movie, not just the Rogowski bits, feel inauthentic. Instead of being 鈥渢oo real for ya,鈥� 鈥淏ird,鈥� with its in-your-face poverty and narrative extremes, never feels particularly real at all.
The most incongruous parts of 鈥淏ird,鈥� though, might not be the mysterious avian friend. (Rogowski, a compelling performer, only ever feels half in the movie, as if 鈥淏ird鈥� can鈥檛 quite commit to him being there, either.) Keoghan is a reliably arresting actor who here feels out of place. He doesn鈥檛 seem even vaguely fatherly, and while that might be part of the point, too many other things about Bug feel more performative than genuine. There鈥檚 his scheme to use hallucinogenic slime from a toad to pay for his wedding, for starters. Add in some karaoke scenes and the sensation creeps in that 鈥淏ird鈥� is being less compelled by its own story than it is by a pursuit of Arnold鈥檚 previous style.
鈥淏ird鈥� may go down as a rare miss for Arnold but you can still see the keenness of her eye and the nimbleness of her camera, with her regular cinematographer Robbie Ryan. And that鈥檚 true never so much as when the camera is on Adams, a talent, whose melancholy eyes say more than all the theatrics around her.
鈥淏ird,鈥� a Mubi release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for 鈥渓anguage throughout, some violent content and drug material.鈥� Running time: 118 minutes. Two stars out of four.
Jake Coyle, The Associated Press
