WHITE BIRD: 2 ½ STARS. “occasionally touching but doesn’t hit hard enough.”
SYNOPSIS: While recounting her life as a fugitive in Nazi-occupied France, hiding in the barn of a classmate, a grandmother (Helen Mirren) gives her troubled grandson a lesson in the importance of kindness and compassion.
CAST: R. J. Palacio, Ariella Glaser, Orlando Schwerdt, Bryce Gheisar, Gillian Anderson, Helen Mirren. Directed by Marc Forster.
REVIEW: “White Bird” wears its heart on its sleeve. An elegant retelling of Grandmère Sara’s story, which originated as a 2019 graphic novel of the same name by R. J. Palacio, it is an earnest testament to the power of imagination and kindness to overcome wickedness.
It’s a Holocaust story told from the point of view of two young people, Sara Blum (as played by Ariella Glaser) who is separated from her parents when the Nazi take over their town, and Julien Beaumier (Orlando Schwerdt) a compassionate youngster with polio who rescues her and hides her away in his parent’s barn. Their bravery in the face of events they can barely understand, let alone control, is moving as this pair of innocents are forced to grow up very quickly.
It’s in the other stuff that the film reveals its origins in young adult literature.
There are several scenes of brutality and violence as the Nazis invade the village and abduct young Jewish students, but director Marc Forster hasn’t made a war film. Instead, he’s made a plea to choose kindness over hatred set against the backdrop of World War II.
The result is a retrained, gently paced character driven tale in need of more urgency.
Forster does a good job of displaying how small gestures can remind us of our humanity in troubled times, but he allows thew cinematic aspects of the storytelling—for example, Sara and Julien’s imaginary travels as an antidote to the world around them—to slow the movie to a crawl.
Much of it looks lovely, and, as an act of kindness, those scenes are on theme, but the flights of fancy plod along, taking away from the more dramatic elements the story has to offer. Danger should hang over every second of Sara’s life, and yet, aside from a scene or two, here is no real sense of peril.
“White Bird” contains potent and timely “Vive l’humanité” messages about compassion—although they are expressed by French villagers, who, by and large, sound like posh BBC broadcasters—and is occasionally touching but doesn’t hit hard enough.
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