White Bird in a Blizzard

Fustigeant un monde adulte irresponsable et guidé par ses pulsions, tout en observant avec tendresse celui des adolescents, le réalisateur demeure fidèle à ses thèmes de prédilection, mais aussi à son style particulier.

White Bird in a Blizzard is a very pretty film with characters doing not so pretty things. Its strength lies with strong performances and dialogue.

As detrimental as anything to the film’s effectiveness are the visuals, which are murky, lack compositional interest and do the actors no favors.

It's naughty, campy and wildly uneven — a film by Gregg Araki, in other words, with all the commercial limitations that implies.

That might explain why White Bird  in a Blizzard tries so hard to walk a fine line between beguiling subtlety and frustrating, even intentional obviousness. And also why it sometimes strays too far from that line to truly succeed.

More disappointingly, the film never figures out how to translate Kat's lack of emotion into something that makes us feel anything other than distant pity. White Bird flutters forward, but doesn't know how to soar.

Bird flies much higher as a coming-of-age tale than as a mystery but is juiced by its go-for-broke leading ladies; Woodley, as always, lends the film an unwavering emotional center, and though Green seems like she drifted in from an odder, campier flick, her Joan Crawford-esque gargoyle act is truly a sight to behold. 

White Bird, despite the best efforts of stars Shailene Woodley and Eva Green, is flat when it should be edged; something I never thought I’d say about the man who made a movie called Totally Fucked Up.