Andrea Arnold’s latest, Bird, is an alluring and complicated love letter to North Kent and the process of finding a place there. Having grown up twenty minutes from where these characters live, Arnold’s mystical reconstruction of Kent has altered my once-broken view of home.
‘Bird’ follows Bailey (Nykiya Adams), a twelve-year-old girl living in squalor with her father, Bug (Barry Keoghan), who’s distracted by his approaching wedding and mission to make some quick cash. The chaos of Bailey’s home life leads her to wander above the local quarries, where she takes videos of birds on her phone—when she isn’t following her brother Hunter (Jason Buda) and his mates. A plot that on the surface appears just like any other social-realist drama morphs into something much more surreal and fairytale-esque when Bailey meets Bird (Franz Rogowski), a stranger looking for his parents in Gravesend.
Rogowski’s Bird is odd. Seemingly appearing from nowhere in particular, he hovers above Kent in his brown skirts and with his non-descript accent as though he belongs everywhere and nowhere. Every character in this, apart from Bird, feels accurate to Kent; grown men blasting music down the high street and violent outbursts from teenagers are familiar, but not people like Bird.
Meeting Bird is the catalyst for Bailey’s shifting relationship with herself, her family and her home town. The characterisation of and differences between Bird and Bailey is a tender portrayal of broken spirits finding solace in one another. Much of the warmth between them comes from the wonderful performances of Adams and Rogowski, who never overdo it. Rogowski, in particular, maintains an aloofness that keeps his character a mystery to both the audience and the characters. This distance from the titular character could easily be frustrating, but Rogowski’s reserved yet emotional performance allows the magical realism and theme of chosen familial love to blossom on screen.
The magic of Bird is clear in its unusual and mundane beauty. Bright yellow bus stops, motorway-adjacent fields, and the murky waters at Leysdown Beach are somehow transformed through the cinematography of Robby Ryan. North Kent is hardly a place most people would describe as picturesque. When thinking of its seemingly endless run-down buildings and it being a less developed part of Kent, it’s easy to understand why people from there feel a need to run away from it. Arnold relays these feelings as a local herself and, in turn, suggests we look at the place and the people within it with more generosity. As the camera constantly follows Bailey’s movement through the area, we start to see a different version of the area: one where the magic of nature hides behind bustling streets.
A handful of flashbacks throughout display Bailey’s positive reflections on the people around her, turning the typical working-class narratives upside down. Audiences have come to expect films about the working class to focus on struggles and violence, but Bird allows these characters to achieve their dreams, however small they may appear. There is respite found in Bug and his friends singing Coldplay’s ‘Yellow’ to make his ‘drug toad’ slime or when the family zoom down Gravesend Highstreet on their electric scooter. Arnold’s optimism could have easily leaned into romanticising poverty; however, she avoids that by providing a balanced picture of living in these conditions. Their struggles are never ignored, but it’s not all doom and gloom.
The fairytale element is new territory for the director, known for her realism, as seen in Wasp (2003) and Fish Tank (2009). It’s unexpected for the narrative to twist the way it does, but Arnold approaches it with such subtlety that it doesn’t feel jarring. If anything, the minute approach to fantasy enhances the deep emotional impact of the narrative.
The Verdict
Bird is a moving and mystical look at coming-of-age in an area not built to sustain young people. North Kent’s charm is not apparent on the surface. It is often found by accident, like stumbling across a field that was always five minutes down the road, yet you didn’t discover it for years. Bird teaches us that beauty can be found anywhere and that our relationship with home and the people there can reshape our appreciation of both.
Words by Isaac Arif
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