TIFF Digest: Part 4

Bird [2024]

Bird

Andrea Arnold has always had a knack for crafting experiential films. Movies are meant to be felt as part of a wholly immersive experience. Arnold achieved this through her older films Wasp, Dog, American Honey, Wuthering Heights, and although she takes a slightly different approach with Bird, the textbook Arnold texture remains salient.

Bird, maintaining Arnold's theme of single-word animal titles, is an intriguing perspective on burgeoning womanhood through the eyes of Bailey, played by the revelatory newcomer Nykiya Adams. Bailey squats in a run-down apartment complex with her brother Hunter (Jason Buda) and their father, Bug (Barry Keoghan), who doesn't have enough time for either of them. He's too busy trying to get a toad to excrete drugs that he can sell to fund his upcoming wedding. And if you think that's wild, just wait! The family dynamic, or lack thereof, at the center of Bird does a tremendous job of creating empathy for Bailey while her focus seems to be on everything outside of her life. Kinetic and tactile camera movements give the film that Arnold texture while following Bailey's childlike wonder with every animal she finds. Taking out her phone and recording everything from butterflies to birds, the allure of wild freedom is as tantalizing as ever. Soon enough, she bumps into a drifter named Bird (Franz Rogowski), whose constant perching upon rooftops feels glaringly obvious. The uneven mixture of magical surrealism and grounded realism makes Bird a distracting character and makes Bird a confusing film. Bailey's journey, internal and external, is extraordinarily compelling and fits Andrea Arnold's core thesis perfectly. But the addition of some dubious CGI animals and a wildly unexpected anthropomorphic transformation knock the train completely off the tracks. Arnold's ambition is admirable, but unfortunately, the big swings detracted from an otherwise great coming-of-age story and a terrific lead performance from Adams.

Flow [2024]

Flow

In stark contrast to the aforementioned anthropomorphizing is Gints Zilbalodis' animated feature film, Flow, which vehemently avoids the intermingling of human and animal characteristics. Following a solitary black cat, Flow is about the odyssey this cat embarks on when its eerily human-absent world--albeit with the remains of human existence scattered about through sculptures, drawings, and buildings--experiences an unexpected flood. The cat's only lifeboat arrives in a knick of time but with some unexpected company in the forms of a capybara, lemur, golden retriever, and a crane-adjacent bird, all of whom must now work together to survive the rising tides.

Instead of giving these adorable animals voices, Zilbalodis opted to have them rely solely on their animalistic properties. Unencumbered by the presence of dialogue, each character has their personality shine through individual instincts. The cat's meowing or flapping of ears, and the golden retriever's ready-to-always-play attitude creates a kaleidoscope of camaraderie that is as infectious as it sounds. Not to mention, the interactions between these animals in Zilbalodis' jaw-dropping landscape are the perfect fuel for a heart-warming, even at times incredibly stressful, journey of companionship and survival. Sure, the base premise of Flow sounds extremely dark, at times exhibiting increasingly Biblical elements--including but not limited to a gigantic flood and rapture-ish event--but the light-hearted aesthetic of the film beats out any grim aspect of the story. Gorgeous backdrops, realistic movement, and tremendous tracking shots all provide a one-of-a-kind cinematic experience that is honestly tough to find in most live-action films these days. I know it all sounds exaggerated, but Flow is a type of film that transcends expectations. It feels like and looks like high art without being pretentious or self-indulgent. Zilbalodis, when introducing the film at TIFF, even likened the journey the animals take (singling the cat out as an embodiment of his solitary nature) to creating the film. Whereas Zilbalodis wrote, directed, edited, animated, and scored his previous film Away, Flow took the teamwork it reflects on-screen to make it a reality. Creating a very personal extended metaphor for being brave enough to expand your horizons outside of the comfort of solitude and asking for help from unlikely sources.

Flow is officially Latvia's entry for Best International Feature for this upcoming Oscar season, but I think it could make a run for Best Animated Feature. What more could you ask for in an animated film other than rushes of childlike wonder and jaw-dropping thrills, all in a brisk 84-minute runtime that will leave you begging for more? More of the solitary black cat who finds belonging in a motley crew of friends, more of the stunning animated realm that balances rugged hand-made and perfect qualities, and absolutely more of whatever Gints Zilbalodis is cooking up next.

The Penguin Lessons [2024]

The Penguin Lessons

Continuing on our theme of lovable animals is Peter Cattaneo's The Penguin Lessons, based on Tom Michell's autobiographical novel of the same name. Steve Coogan stars as Michell, a cynical English professor arriving for his first days at a prestigious Buenos Aires private school, set in the days leading up to Argentina's 1976 military coup. The political turmoil and personal chaos are an intriguing backdrop for a heartwarming story about how Michell accidentally adopted a penguin while partying in Uruguay, but it provides mature depth to the source material. The reason is that Cattaneo's film takes some artistic liberties with frequent Coogan collaborator, writer Jeff Pope deviating from Michell's novel on various events and facts. Michell was in his twenties when these events unfolded, but Pope changed the age and provided a tragic backstory to make sense for Steve Coogan to take over the character. Even though there are some bumps in the road, the Pope and Coogan team-up is still as sharp as ever. Pope's straightforward, at times bland writing perfectly accentuates Coogan's dry wit, allowing him to relish every savory morsel of sarcastic cynicism. His laissez-faire personality, opposite of Johnathan Pryce's apolitical Headmaster, creates a fun atmosphere and some welcome tension surrounding the penguin's (named Juan Salvador) presence breaking the rules of the school.

As good as Coogan is, and Pryce for that matter, The Penguin Lessons is at its best when Juan Salvador is on the screen flapping those flippers all across the school. The human-animal relationship between everyone and the penguin, especially Michell, given his initial resistance, gives Cattaneo's film the heartwarming backbone of the power of natural healing. But, most importantly, enforcing the idea of good people doing good things. Michell's cynicism is challenged by Sophie (Alfonsina Carrocio), whose upbeat, idealistic political views of Argentina result in her being one of many people who disappeared during the coup and ensuing military rule, while Juan Salvador is the catalyst for Michell's future action. Of course The Penguin Lessons and its deviation from the source material creates a white savior storyline that should've been fixed with a better exploration of Michell's paternal tragedy and how that affects his outlook on life and relationship with Sophie, but it's a messy moment that detracts from the heart of the film. There are plenty of rough around the edges moments in Cattaneo's film, but I couldn't help but be completely entranced by Coogan's hilariously heartfelt performance and that damn adorable penguin.

The Wild Robot [2024]

The Wild Robot

You know the old saying, "Kill them with kindness?" Well, imagine a movie that's trying to say the opposite of that. Chris Sanders' gorgeous animated feature film, The Wild Robot captures this sentiment of kindness being a survival instinct, all the while delivering incredible emotional depth.

After a storm maroons ROZZUM Unit 7134, known as Roz (Lupita Nyong'o), on an island, she must work together with the locals to find her way back home. The only problem is that the locals are all animals. Unfortunately, through Roz's attempts to interact with the island's inhabitants, an accident occurs that sees the unintentional death of a mother goose and all of her eggs except one. Before Roz can process what's happened, her newfound egg hatches, allowing the baby gosling to imprint on the first thing he sees. Which would make Roz a new mom. Funny how life works out? Now Roz must find it within her programming to help this gosling, Brightbill (Kit Connor), learn how to eat, swim, and fly if he's to survive the upcoming migration before winter.

While the story of The Wild Robot, based off of Peter Brown's book, follows a singular and simple plot, the heart that the whole team behind the film brings to the project elevates it to pitch-perfect levels. Nyong'o's stellar voice work transcends the limitations of the screen, showcasing the growth and adaptation of Roz from her time on the island. Not to mention Pedro Pascal is hardly recognizable as the hilariously heartfelt outsider, Fink. As you get attached to the lovable characters at the focal point of the film, Kris Bowers' score finds new ways to warm your heart, even in the coldest of winters. The gorgeous melodies enchant your ears while The Wild Robot's visual aesthetic imprints itself into your brain. Hand-painted images full of deep, rich color provide some of the more memorable pictures you'll see this year. I just raved about Flow and this has a very similar feel to it, where you can see the artistry in full display. In a world of dark CG-focused films, it's refreshing to see Dreamworks keep real animation afloat in a film that evokes the same feelings as seeing animated classics of yesteryear. There's even a training montage for Brightbill flying, with Maren Morris' delightful original song "Kiss the Sky" in the background, which feels nostalgic in its approach but novel with its imagery. Roz's movements are sweeping and effortless, while her relationship with Brightbill--and all the other inhabitants--is moving. Calling it simply moving might be the understatement of the year.

I'll put it broadly: Sanders and team have made one of the best films of the year and certifiably the best animated film of the year. Not only visually stunning but emotionally mature and downright entertaining, The Wild Robot's tale of being more than you were programmed to be is a slam dunk. An artistic achievement that continues Dreamworks' storied filmography and a film that has something for everyone in it.