Review: Bird

It's been a few years since Andrea Arnold made a fiction film, but documentary's loss is pretty much everyone else's gain. Bird is both a return to social realism and an embrace of the magical - two things that really should go together a lot more often than they do. We all contain both (and more) inside us: any realistic film that ignores that is falling down when it should be soaring.

Twelve year-old Bailey (Nykiya Adams) is having a bit of a rough go of it. Living in a squat in a housing estate in Kent, her father Bug (Barry Keoghan) is barely an adult himself, running around with the kind of wild get-rich-quick schemes a teenager would come up with (becoming a father as a teen seems to have arrested his development).

Her mother, who lives across town, isn't much help either. Peyton (Jasmine Jobson) has a violent partner and three kids, living in the kind of knife-edge situation where anything can happen and whatever it is, it's going to be bad. Bug's crazy plan to sell toad juice to finance his wedding to a woman he met three months ago doesn't seem so bad by comparison.

So Bailey is largely left to her own devices. Sometimes she's spending time with her half-brother Hunter (Jason Buda) and the gang he's put together to "protect" the neighbourhood. Other times she's on her own, which is when she meets the mysterious Bird (Franz Rogowski).

At first she's wary of this stranger who seems lost and searching for something. It doesn't take long for a bond to develop, but this is the kind of coming-of-age film where tragedy is just as likely as anything else - or at least, it is until a big shift in what kind of film we're actually watching makes itself known towards the end.

The result is something that isn't going to click with everyone. Consistency in entertainment is generally a virtue; any major gear changes are required to exist within the borders of plot and character, not by adding entirely new elements previously unsuspected. So this is a big swerve, but if you can go with adding "magical" to "realism", the pay off is worth it.

And even if you feel the ending does derail things, there's a lot to enjoy. The performances, often from newcomers, are frequently astonishing and consistently enthralling, while Arnold has lost none of her skill when it comes to steeping her audience in a world where struggle and deprivation don't automatically mean a bleak existence.

It's a swirling film, full of joy and grinding poverty, despair and the beauty of nature pushing through ruins. Whether it's fully successful or not we need more films like this, heartfelt and striving.

- Anthony Morris

 

Review: Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy

Long running fictional characters can grow old, or not. Presumably Mission: Impossible's Ethan Hunt is getting older, it just has absolutely no relevance to his life. Bridget Jones has taken the opposite path, awkwardly passing numerous milestones since she hit the big screen in 2001. Back then she was a quirky take on a young woman living in a world where being under 35 was a complex and nuanced mix of challenges and opportunities. Now in her world young people either look after your kids or shag you.

Aging with your fanbase locks them in: it also locks you into tackling certain issues that inevitably come up, which is to say this is the Bridget Jones movie about death. This mortality, somewhat surprisingly, works to the film's advantage, providing useful contrast to the numerous entertaining moments where Jones (Renee Zellweger) does something awkward then awkwardly realises someone she would like to impress just saw her.

The big death, of course, is Mark Darcy (Colin Firth), who it is revealed in the first few minutes died four years ago, being exploded as part of his work as a human rights lawyer. It is time, all her friends agree, for her to move on. But how? And where? And will the big pants be required?

Pretty much everyone you remember from the previous films makes a return here - the dead characters are either wordless ghosts or get a final scene in flashback - but the script makes the onslaught of familiar characters seem natural, as Jones first checks in with pretty much everyone before her first love interest, the youthful aspiring garbologist Roxster (Leo Woodall) pulls her down out of a tree. Awkward!

Meanwhile, the local school her children attend has a new science teacher, the whistle-blowing Mr Wallaker (Chiwetel Ejiofor). Will he get much of a look in around the jokes about having to bring snacks for school functions and dealing with other snobby "perfect" mums?  Wait and see.

Jones also returns to work as a TV producer, bringing in a few new characters (Jones gets a nanny!) and some old ones - and of course, more opportunity for embarrassment. In the whirlwind of friends that makes up her life (and having such a packed social life despite being a single mum to two kids is just one of the more fantastical elements here) only unrepentant sleaze Daniel Cleaver (Hugh Grant) gets anything like a character arc. And deservedly so, as he remains a delight.

The jokes are uneven but enough land to make it work. It's also a bit sad in parts, though at this stage of life anything less would be a let-down. Having Jones back looking for love is just enough of a spine to keep this from being a pointless greatest hits tour; having the grim specter of death lingering over a number of the scenes (the kids haven't yet moved on) is just enough weight to keep this from drifting away.

Put another way, the film has a high mortality rate (there's more than one scene where a much-loved character comes face to face with their mortality in a hospital), while Jones does pretty well when it comes to sexy and/or romantic clinches. Maybe they should have titled this one Bridget Jones: Body Count.

- Anthony Morris

Review: Presence

Does a ghost story have to be scary? On one level, probably not: it's not hard to think of numerous supernatural stories that (intentionally or not) failed to deliver spine-related chills. But the basic premise of a ghost story - conclusive proof that there is a form of existence beyond the physical world - does tend towards the unsettling. So a heads-up: Presence may be about a haunted house, but it's the living residents who'll give you the creeps.

Director Steven Soderberg's gimmick here is that the camera is the ghost's POV - we see what the ghost sees, and (as we later learn) the ghost doesn't know why they're haunting this particular suburban house. So they tend to just wander around watching the new residents, the Payne family.

It doesn't take long to see the family haven't exactly created a happy home. Father Chris (Chris Sullivan) is fiercely protective of daughter Chloe (Callina Liang), who is on edge after having recently lost a friend to a drug overdose. Older brother Tyler (Eddy Maday) is cruelly dismissive, focused more on his sporting and social success. Overly controlling mother Rebecca (Lucy Liu) is firmly on Tyler's side, though she's distracted by shady goings-on at work - the kind of things that have Chris thinking of bailing on the marriage.

All this unfolds in a series of long takes filmed in ghost-o-vision as the "presence" observes the family. Gradually Chloe starts to sense something supernatural; the presence can and does move small objects around, sometimes in a seemingly helpful manner, other times more destructively. A psychic (Natalie Woolams-Torres) is brought in, with mixed results. Tyler's new friend Ryan (West Mullholland) starts hitting on Chloe. The family is freaking out, but what can they do?

With big scares off the table, what's left is an interesting up-close look at a family under stress, with a low-key mystery wrapped around it. What exactly does the presence want? It's the kind of story that in other hands would cry out for a second viewing, but Soderberg plays fair with the audience and the ending is more of a "oh, that's why that happened" than a "wait, I need to go over this again".

The family's fault lines are fairly bluntly laid out; the point is to see which ways things are going to fracture. Everyone here turns out to be capable of a surprise or two, though most of the big moves are in character. Reliable types step up, people on edge make risky choices. The performances are all good, though it's Liang who ends up holding the film together. 

So it's a satisfying watch, if operating largely in a minor key. Possibly the most interesting thing going on is the way the demands of the story require one central character to be both a jerk and heroic. It makes sense - these are members of a family after all - but it's rare to see a character contain multitudes in recent cinema. Most ghost stories require the living to be one thing, then nothing; it's this character's out-of-character choice that will haunt their family.

- Anthony Morris