Andrea Arnold's return to fiction filmmaking with Bird is nothing short of magical. I'm admittedly biased — give me a dash of magic surrealism and I'm already halfway to being won over. But Bird soars well beyond mere genre appeal.
At its heart, this is a coming-of-age story centered on Bailey, portrayed by newcomer Nykiya Adams in what can only be described as a revelation of a performance. It's not just me gushing here — Adams has already collected five Breakthrough Performance awards, and rightfully so. There's something raw and undeniable in her presence that makes me certain we'll be seeing much more of her.
The film follows Arnold's characteristic focus on young women living on society's margins, but this time through a lens that feels both fresh and familiar. Franz Rogowski (honestly, is there a thoughtful European indie he's not in?) brings his trademark subtlety to his role as Bailey's counterpart. The rest of the supporting cast holds their own admirably, creating a world that feels lived-in and authentic.
But it's Arnold's underlying optimism that really gets me. Throughout the film, she weaves this beautiful thread about the nature of love — how we all love differently, imperfectly, sometimes messily. And that's okay. More than okay, actually. It's a profound truth that some of us spend decades trying to understand: that love, in whatever form it takes, doesn't need to meet some arbitrary standard to be valid.
The way Arnold brings this message home — through her distinctive visual style and moments of subtle magic — well, it just works. Really works. Though I should mention the somewhat dizzying handheld camerawork in the opening scenes nearly threw me off. But perhaps that's fitting for a film about imperfect love — even its minor flaws feel purposeful, like they're part of the larger truth Arnold is sharing with us.
By the time the credits rolled, I found myself sitting there, a bit misty-eyed, thinking about all the different ways people manage to love each other in this complicated world of ours. Not perfect? Sure. That's rather the point, isn't it?
