3/5 stars

French filmmaker Yves Caumon is not afraid to let his film speak, and maybe that’s what wrong with it.  L’Oiseau, french for The Bird, is a film about loss, disconnection and rejuvenation, taking place in Bordeaux amongst the picturesque streets, bars, and homes.  The cinematography is intimate from the opening scenes of the film, with close ups acting as intrusions on the everyday life of its main character.  Sandrine Kiberlain plays a restaurant employee who spends most of her day solitarily retrieving food supplies from the kitchen refrigerator or washing up for the head chef.  She lives alone in an apartment overlooking the city and is soon interrupted by a strange noise in her walls.

The first portion of the film meanders through the motions of her day to day, which is spent smoking, drinking, popping pills, having her restless insomnia disturbed by the wall-bound habituê, and then its back to her station in the culinary icebox.  The intimations we receive for why she is experiencing such a sullen and lifeless stupor are rendered almost entirely in the cinematic language, which is a magnificent directorial feat.  It takes one back to a time in movie history when the film was not created with the lowest common denominator in mind, and instead a type of cinematic literacy was expected of the film-goer.  Unfortunately, the themes explored by its characters are so ponderously commonplace that there is little narrative to appreciate.  Kiberlain drifts from one botched romance to another in an expressionless haze that truly only the most charitable viewer could empathize with.  This is interrupted by a sporadic sense of amusement from her character, something that truly disturbs the continuity of her emotional status and threatens to send the film into ridiculousness.  Yet, in spite of this lacking, there is the ceaseless anticipation of her waking up.  This illuminating moment, however, is perhaps the most frustrating moment of the film.

If you are familiar with E.M. Forester’s naturalistic imagery, wherein people are allowed to find themselves only when communing in a natural setting, you will be rolling your eyes in perturbation.  The Bird is not a film that one can easily dismiss because of its tremendous camera work, but it is nonetheless one I cannot in good faith recommend to those looking for a challenge.  Instead, like an attractive but meatless fowl, this may be one best appreciated from afar.

Lenhardt Stevens