No frills, no stylization; no twists, hooks, or plot devices to grab our attention: 'Blackbird' is a plainspoken portrait of love and friendship amidst addiction and desperation. It's direly uncomfortable from start to finish, and every aspect of the film seems engineered to emphasize the squalor, shame, and sorrow. It's also utterly superb and captivating.
The sound seems marginally muted. The image quality is dull around the edges, and washed out, even as subtle use of light and shadow results in some eye-catching shots. To whatever extent these aspects are a reflection of the film's setting in 1995, it also has the effect of furthering the downtrodden mood that pervades the movie. So it is, too, with the makeup and costume design. Filming locations and set design feel as helplessly filthy and impoverished as they look. Meanwhile, music is initially sparing and employed to taste - yet where it does increasingly come into play, it's powerful in the result; much credit to composer Dawn Landes and music supervisor Linda Cohen for their fine contributions.
It's a straightforward and uncomplicated story being told, but enthralling for the quiet progression of the narrative, the relationships between the characters, and the sheer depths of the dejection at hand. It helps that the cast is wonderful. Michael Shannon has a prominent supporting part as Murl, and there's an ambiguity in his kinship that is mesmerizing. Paul Sparks is entrancing as Baylis, a despairing man nearly at the end of his rope who is struggling to keep himself together. Above all, Gillian Jacobs is outstanding in her portrayal of Froggy, a young runaway whose own trying anguish meets or exceeds Baylis'. This is a role far removed from what we usually see of Jacobs, and it's clear she has range and skill far beyond the generally comedic parts she takes. Everyone involved - Shannon, Sparks, Jacobs, other supporting cast members - is marvelous, inhabiting their characters with complexity and nuance that's surprising not just for the tone the film strikes, but in recognition of how features with similar content broadly approach characters in their writing.
The unmitigated excellence of 'Blackbird' - how it's written, directed, shot, acted, and otherwise put together in every way - masks one overarching important fact: This is an incredibly difficult movie to watch. Substantial content warnings abound for drug use, vomiting, and frank discussion of still more dire topics of abortion and sexual abuse. The very premise is pointedly ominous, yet Adam Rapp allows us to believe for long enough that Baylis and Froggy may actually have a chance so as to make the finale all the more crushing. Rapp's brother Anthony may be more publicly recognizable, yet for as urgently dark and terribly compelling as 'Blackbird' is, it's clear the elder sibling is no less skilled at his craft.
Bearing in mind the extraordinarily grim subject matter, this is a phenomenal movie that deserves to be seen by a much wider audience. I heartily recommend it most of all to fans of the cast and crew, but this is such an unexpectedly striking feature that the average viewer can just as easily become absorbed. I entered with no foreknowledge or expectations save for the actors involved, and I'm absolutely blown away: 'Blackbird' is as engaging and impactful as it is challenging and bleak, and a must-see film.
