Birth

I can understand why people react so aversely to this film, but, in Birth's defence, it's quite a demanding a piece for it to suit everyone's tastes.

Granted, the plot is slightly unpalatable, and yes, there are instances when the film appears to veer into senslessness, but, unless you want a clear-cut resolution, this cannot quite be written off as shoddy work on the part of anyone involved. Most of the complaints made about Birth have come from people who cannot get past the plot elements of the film, namely, the flirtation with pedophilia. It is uncomfortable, quite so, but that precisely is the point... Moreover, it's worth noting that the characters themselves find it repelling, and that there is nary a sexual undercurrent between Sean and Anna.

I believe one could argue, very strongly, that this plot device is merely a catalyst to throw Anna's psyche into relief. In the end, whether the boy is Sean or not proves irrelevant; the film is less about a bizarre happening than about the extreme psychological test it brings about. It's intense analysis of love, grief, need and the leaps of faith...

Given this set-up, the execution is flawless. What the screenplay does, quite beautifully, is convey silent emotions; it understands, better than most films, that communication is often non-verbal, and in this situation, when the very thing at stake is reason, it is logical that the characters would be at a loss for words. If any given person were to be in Anna's situation...what would they do? How would you react if someone close to you were living through this?

Jonathan Glazer's direction is splendid, building up a somber, airless mood and coaxing superlative performances out of the entire cast. Kidman's performance is somewhat mannered, yet she completely, effortlessly inhabits a difficult role; it is a brave, piercing, bravura performance. She captures Anna's desperation and fragility, but also her privileged lifestyle and upbringing, and the mad undercurrents grief has brought about. The so-called opera scene will be, years from now, considered a seminal moment in her career. Bright is chillingly effective, registering an intensity that is somewhat unsettling, and the supporting turns--which, with limited material flesh out characters, build histories and express emotions that the screenplay only implies--are sterling, especially in the case of Bacall and Howard.

Technically, the film is a marvel. Two things are worth noting: Harris Savides' wonderful cinematography (there are at least three iconic sequences in the film), which creates a look and a mood that is at once foreboding and exquisitely beautiful, and Alexandre Desplat's splendid score, which underscores the drama without becoming obtrusive and blends symphonic melodies with a hi-lo undercurrent that creates an odd womb-like effect.

Lovely, heartbreaking, unforgettable.

There's a scene in this that will feature in film school classes for a long time to come.

Nichole is an uneven actress, only sometimes rising to the world class of Kate and Cate and the old Julianne. The smallest part of this is the process of inhabiting a character, rare enough as it is.

A film exists on several layers depending on its architecture. (I'm only talking here about films that live.) Almost never are the higher levels accessible to the actors in the project: few actors even know they exist. This film is a great example of an actress knowing and inhabiting those higher levels.

What we have here is a director who spins a space of awareness around what we see. The story specifically addresses this and supports it. Into this space, the director and composer have poured a score. This score fits that space as being within the movie proper instead of being an annotation as the usual case.

In this space, the score is something between the film and us the audience, the space where the waystations for reincarnation take place (at least in the story). Nichole acts to the score. It is a remarkable feat because as with green screen acting one has to anticipate what is to come into being later.

The first scene introduces us to that space the score creates. It is a very long shot of the adult Sean running, dying and entering the fog of the score. The scene I mentioned above is later, when Nichole knows she is entering that space: she has literally just sat down to watch an opera... the music comes up from the movie/opera/limbo space we have already entered and it washes over her and changes her reality.

This shot isn't just of a character, but of an actress, her character, and a dialog among them and us about the reality of this space, this layer of the film.

Later, she is getting married and the music (this time by players on screen) draw many of the watchers in as well.

There are lots of flaws in this; it isn't a lifealtering experience. But that one thing is a special experience, the idea that the filmmaker spins an extra space which Sean infers and Nichole, the composer and we inhabit.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

I remember when it was released in 2004, there was a big hurrah about "the" bath scene, many vitriolic complaints about how slow it was, how not scary it was et al. Birth is many wonderful film making things, of course not all of those things will resonate or enthral many of the movie watching populace, yet there is such craft on both sides of the camera here, and an atmospherically ambiguous bloodline pulsing throughout, that marks it out as a particularly striking film.

Plot finds Nicole Kidman as Anna, who is about to be re-married but finds her world tipped upside down when a young boy (Cameron Bright) arrives on the scene and announces he is the reincarnation of her dead first husband...

Director Jonathan Glazer and his co-writers Jean-Claude Carrière & Milo Addica are purposely being vague, I mean lets face it, the topic to hand is exactly that, vague, and ripe for countless hours of discussion. The film simmers along deftly, meditations on love, grief and anger are skilfully portrayed by all involved. Even a birthing tunnel metaphor doesn't come off as self indulgent, from the off Glazer wants and gets those interested in the story to buy into the hypnotic qualities on show. To jump on board with Anna's fragility while all around her battle for rhyme or reason with her mindset.

In truth it's a hard sell as a piece of entertainment, there's still today, over a decade since it was released, people miffed that the hinted at supernatural elements are not key to the narrative. While the thin line of good and bad taste - and maybe even pretentiousness - is being tested by the makers, but the charges of Birth being dull are just wrong. It never shows its hand, the mystery always remains strong, while Kidman and Lauren Bacall are reason enough to admire the acting craft on show.

Hated by many, inducing even anger in some quarters, Birth is a tantalising picture. A conundrum designed to get a response, for better or worse. 8/10

Now, this. *This* is a weird movie.

Anna's (Nicole Kidman) husband dies of a heart attack, and a decade later, a ten year old boy shows up in her life claiming to be her reincarnated husband. He knows everything about her, everything about their marriage, and that opens up a whole host of questions, problems, and oddities.

At its heart, this is an uncomfortable thought experiment: what if reincarnation was actually real? What if you suddenly rediscovered the love of your life, but now he's young enough to be your son? What are you willing to overlook in the name of love? And what if you've already moved on? Built a life with someone else? How are they going to take this?

Is this a romance story? Or a horror story?

More than anything, what's weird about this movie is the tone. Kidman's character, Anna, comes from a rich family. We're talking so rich that they own one whole entire floor of a high rise building and all live together. You get off the elevator and there isn't even a doorway. It's just the apartment.

And that lifestyle, even before factoring in this whole reincarnation stuff, feels incredibly alien and disconnected from any reality I've ever known or will probably ever know. Anna is getting married, you see, and we bear the full brunt to the pomp and circumstance of her engagement. The completely unnecessary theatricality of it all. The money being spent on little things.

It's a movie that makes me feel like I'm losing my mind, a little.

I understand this movie. I do not understand these people.

Birth (2004)

*** 1/2 (out of 4)

Ten years after the death of her husband, a woman (Nicole Kidman) is about to remarry but she gets a visit from a 10-year-old boy (Cameron Bright) who claims to be her husband reincarnated. This is certainly a very strange, bizarre yet unique love story/thriller that asks a lot of deep questions but sadly none are really answered due to the lackluster ending. The first hour is certainly hard hitting stuff with some eerie atmosphere that goes a long way. Nicole Kidman turns in another brilliant and incredibly brave performance, which should have gotten more attention but I guess it was overlooked due to the controversy surrounding a couple scenes including the one with her and the kid in the bathtub together. What I enjoyed best was that the film played out as something from real life and not B.S. we see in a movie. The characters are all very mature, they think and act the way people do in life and not in some normal movie. Danny Huston and Lauren Bacall co-star. Anne Heche is also very good in a role I didn't even know it was her at first.