VERY minor spoilers. I'm not going to be a meanie and give away the actual details of that notorious ending here, so anyone still yet to give this one-of-a-kind movie their time should be able to read on without fear of having the story ruined (besides, you'd really to have to see it for yourself, in context with everything else, to know exactly what I mean, anyhow), but I will comment just how remarkably close it does veer towards marring this otherwise wonderful, if not completely perfect, film. Since seeing it for the first time last summer and loving nearly every minute of it, right up until those final awkward moments took their toll, I've learnt that there are some viewers who admire 'Birdy' for, much like its pivotal character, just how doggedly unconventional it manages to be, in everything including the ending, but personally I still have trouble seeing it as anything more than a painfully abrupt fade-out which fails to satisfy, and which leaves us with too much else on our minds to feel the benefit of the light-hearted point it tries to make. At worst, it's a blushing admission that in choosing to stray from the original source material, they ran out of ideas of their own and decided to cut their losses then and there. At best, judging from the comments of others, it's a work of unexpected genius. At the end of the day, I suppose it's up to you alone to decide.
But, with that one major reservation now out of the way, I can move swiftly onto the praise, and for 99.9% of the time, 'Birdy' really is a captivating, unfairly forgotten gem. I was first drawn to it having picked up the soundtrack in a discount CD outlet, noticing that it had been provided by none other than one of my all-time favourite musicians, the incredible Peter Gabriel. Taking it home and giving it a spin, and, as always with this man, finding myself elevated to a whole other musical dimension, it wasn't long before I was rushing back into the outside world to rent the movie itself. And, having seen it, I was impressed if they'd searched for a million years they couldn't have found a more fitting picture for him to exercise his audio talents upon, assembling, in typical Peter Gabriel fashion, an evocative, haunting and spiritual score, all virtues which 'Birdy' itself wears proudly on its sleeve.
The music certainly compliments it nicely, but it's the strong lead performances from Matthew Modine and Nicholas Cage that truly make this drama, and transfer the characters so vividly and convincingly from William Wharton's original novel (which I decided to tackle not too long after seeing the film). On the whole, I'd say they did a respectable job in translating the non-linear structure of the novel to film, alternating between the contrasting viewpoints of the two young protagonists in accordance to whichever stage of their lives it deals with the cynical, down-to-earth Alfonso, having returned from combat in Vietnam with severe physical scarring, contemplates the present situation, in which he's been called upon to get through to an old friend and fellow veteran, who's suffered psychological scarring from his own encounters and since withdrawn into his own seemingly inaccessible world. This friend's outlook, meanwhile, is gradually revealed through a series of flashbacks accounting their youthful past growing up together, along with his own lifelong fascination with birds and their ability to fly, a deeply-rooted passion which earned him the nickname 'Birdy'. The world, as seen from his perspective, is positively mesmerising in some scenes, while sharply poignant in others, but rest assured, there's never anything crazy about it. And this is where the true binding magic of this picture lies. Modine's portrayal and Parker's direction make it clearer to us than to any of the characters that Birdy is merely an exceptional kid who's never really been much taken with the conventions and restrictions that come with being a human being, drawn instead to the boundless and enigmatic world of his feathered companions. By contrasting the drabness of the former and the beauty of the latter, Parker ensures that Birdy's stances never seem anything but understandable, and allows us to feel a connection with him right from the beginning. Even before we've learnt the entire scope of his story, in those scenes reflecting more Alfonso's viewpoint, when Birdy resides in an institution, and does outwardly appear to have lost himself, we never doubt him. Parker has also taken full advantage of the story now being visual, employing some truly striking aesthetic imagery along the way. The non-dialogue window scenes in particular, in which Birdy gazes out at the birds flying freely in the world outside, are shot with so much beauty and emotion, they're each worth more than a million words.
At the opposite side of the story, Cage also does wonders with Alfonso. In the novel he was drawn up as a much more self-assured, mean-spirited character you only really began to feel sympathy for toward the end. Here, Cage breathes such sympathetic life into the man that it's almost impossible not to feel for him from the moment you lay eyes on him. There's just something about that bandage-clad face that only really speaks to you when it's right out in front of you.
There may be a sparse number of scenes that lean more toward the dull and slow-moving side, and which keep it from being perhaps as consistently engaging as it should, but with plenty of others to entrance you, shock you, amuse you and move you, moments that will summon a real lump in your throat and an ending which, depending on how you look at it, will either greatly awe or greatly frustrate you, 'Birdy' may not be an instant classic, but it's a viewing experience unlike any other, and undoubtedly a must-see.
Grade: A-
But, with that one major reservation now out of the way, I can move swiftly onto the praise, and for 99.9% of the time, 'Birdy' really is a captivating, unfairly forgotten gem. I was first drawn to it having picked up the soundtrack in a discount CD outlet, noticing that it had been provided by none other than one of my all-time favourite musicians, the incredible Peter Gabriel. Taking it home and giving it a spin, and, as always with this man, finding myself elevated to a whole other musical dimension, it wasn't long before I was rushing back into the outside world to rent the movie itself. And, having seen it, I was impressed if they'd searched for a million years they couldn't have found a more fitting picture for him to exercise his audio talents upon, assembling, in typical Peter Gabriel fashion, an evocative, haunting and spiritual score, all virtues which 'Birdy' itself wears proudly on its sleeve.
The music certainly compliments it nicely, but it's the strong lead performances from Matthew Modine and Nicholas Cage that truly make this drama, and transfer the characters so vividly and convincingly from William Wharton's original novel (which I decided to tackle not too long after seeing the film). On the whole, I'd say they did a respectable job in translating the non-linear structure of the novel to film, alternating between the contrasting viewpoints of the two young protagonists in accordance to whichever stage of their lives it deals with the cynical, down-to-earth Alfonso, having returned from combat in Vietnam with severe physical scarring, contemplates the present situation, in which he's been called upon to get through to an old friend and fellow veteran, who's suffered psychological scarring from his own encounters and since withdrawn into his own seemingly inaccessible world. This friend's outlook, meanwhile, is gradually revealed through a series of flashbacks accounting their youthful past growing up together, along with his own lifelong fascination with birds and their ability to fly, a deeply-rooted passion which earned him the nickname 'Birdy'. The world, as seen from his perspective, is positively mesmerising in some scenes, while sharply poignant in others, but rest assured, there's never anything crazy about it. And this is where the true binding magic of this picture lies. Modine's portrayal and Parker's direction make it clearer to us than to any of the characters that Birdy is merely an exceptional kid who's never really been much taken with the conventions and restrictions that come with being a human being, drawn instead to the boundless and enigmatic world of his feathered companions. By contrasting the drabness of the former and the beauty of the latter, Parker ensures that Birdy's stances never seem anything but understandable, and allows us to feel a connection with him right from the beginning. Even before we've learnt the entire scope of his story, in those scenes reflecting more Alfonso's viewpoint, when Birdy resides in an institution, and does outwardly appear to have lost himself, we never doubt him. Parker has also taken full advantage of the story now being visual, employing some truly striking aesthetic imagery along the way. The non-dialogue window scenes in particular, in which Birdy gazes out at the birds flying freely in the world outside, are shot with so much beauty and emotion, they're each worth more than a million words.
At the opposite side of the story, Cage also does wonders with Alfonso. In the novel he was drawn up as a much more self-assured, mean-spirited character you only really began to feel sympathy for toward the end. Here, Cage breathes such sympathetic life into the man that it's almost impossible not to feel for him from the moment you lay eyes on him. There's just something about that bandage-clad face that only really speaks to you when it's right out in front of you.
There may be a sparse number of scenes that lean more toward the dull and slow-moving side, and which keep it from being perhaps as consistently engaging as it should, but with plenty of others to entrance you, shock you, amuse you and move you, moments that will summon a real lump in your throat and an ending which, depending on how you look at it, will either greatly awe or greatly frustrate you, 'Birdy' may not be an instant classic, but it's a viewing experience unlike any other, and undoubtedly a must-see.
Grade: A-