Kirpianuscus it seems be a sketch. or mix of fairy tale and ordinary existential crisis. simple, convincing and beautiful. a delicate drawing more than a film. because it is a story of metamorphose. a story of new, fundamental beginning. and few admirable scenes - the young painter and the sparrow as model, the tension between Gary and his wife in on - line talk as good examples - are splendid portraits of deep solitude and the profound desire to escape from yourself. it is difficult to pledge for it. not only because the taste of each viewer is different but because the symbols, used as steps to the last scenes, has different translations for each of us. short, a real beautiful film. remembering "Anomalisa".

Joel Alfred Larsson I'm debating with myself how many points I should give this film. The lowest score, a "1", feels too low,given the production values and on rare occasion interesting scenes. However, if the lowest score can stop someone from watching the film, then it is definitely worth it, because 20 minutes into the thing I wanted to get up from my seat and leave the theater. Firstly, Bird People is boring. There are two main characters in the film. One of the two, Gary the American decides to change his life dramatically. But there is no real investment into his character before this big change takes place. The audience gets left out and it is hard to give a damn about Gary, which is especially true during the "so bad it's funny"- skype breakup scene. Add really hammy acting and dumb dialogue to the mix and you have a complete train wreck of a first hour.The other character, Audrey, is marginally more interesting. But before the film has time to really draw you in - SURPRISE, Audrey turns into a bird! Yes, she really morphs into a bid. The rest of the film is like a cross between a Disney film and an ad for Marlboro Cigarettes. I understand the connection between becoming a bird vs freeing yourself from work and relationships. But it is so overstated and ridiculous that any value the film might have had flutters away. And the ending scene just stinks.

maurice yacowar Like her 2006 adaptation, Lady Chatterly, Pascale Ferran's Bird People celebrates the expansiveness of the human spirit. Here it's expressed in the need for non-carnal freedom, through the specific metaphor of flying. The opening montage in the Charles de Gaulle airport surveys a large number of people between flights, rushing helter skelter ground bound. They seem constrained, locked in patterns, in a word, caged even as they roam. A later montage shows the airport at night, still, vacated but for a strew of bodies asleep. Awake or sleeping the people bound to their daily regimens are cut off from the free range of their spirits and imagination. From that crowd two characters emerge to take flight. Gary Newman is the American in Paris, a Silicon Valley engineer there for a business meeting en route to a major project in Dubai. Gary is at a midway station (c'est la gare) in his life; an anxiety attack (angoisse) persuades him to become a New Man. He quits his job and abandons his wife and kids. By skipping his plane to Dubai and holing up at the airport Hilton he takes flight from all his responsibilities. Actor Josh Charles has a bird-like mien, especially in our first view, with his beak, furrowed brow and pursed lips. He imagines a bird's eye view of his rejected landing and reception at Dubai. In the hotel restaurant a piano is computer-rigged to play its keys without a pianist. The modern machinery continues without the original human engagement. Newman is confident his company and his family will carry on without him so he flies their respective coops. He breaks up with his wife through another magical technology. Skype allows a vivid, extended face-to-face discussion though an ocean apart. The dynamic reverses their usual discussions, where their physical closeness failed to bridge the growing abyss between them. Ferran encourages us to approve Newman's clearly selfish declaration of potentially destructive independence. (To me his unforgivable irresponsibility was his tapping of the hotel mini-bar, not just the overpriced booze and chips but those little bottles of water! Damn, that hurt. True, when he sells his partners his company shares he will be able to support his ex-family and pay the Hilton tab, but still….) Hotel maid Audrey is oppressed by her job and its encroachment upon her university studies. Like Newman, she needs air; both open windows immediately upon entering a room. In the wake of a relationship she lives a solitary life. Her sense of people living encaged is suggested when she peers across the courtyard at the apartment dwellers living their separate lives in a row (shades of Rear Window). Though (or because?) she lacks Newman's wealth, station and responsibilities Audrey discovers a magical power. She turns into a sparrow and flies all over the place. She learns how the polished hotel clerk Simon lives (sleeping in his car), gets a closer view of the other people in their cages and feels the exhilaration of soaring beyond her normal physical limits. The magic stays realistic: she also learns the bird's urgent feeling of hunger and the existential threat from wind, cat, owl, traffic and locked stuffy room. Both as woman and as bird Audrey glimpses a touching alternative to the Newman marriage, an elderly woman waiting for her old husband to join her in a still juicy love. That injects a romantic possibility into the film's last shot. Audrey and Newman finally meet and after parting return to introduce themselves and shake hands. They have discussed a verbal paradox: "personne" carries the contrary meanings of person and nobody. They consider the words that are contrary to "contrary." They may find the ultimate romantic paradox: the greatest freedom can be found in a connection. Prefiguring that union, the Japanese artist saves bird Audrey from starving by giving her some chips and the woman by finding her unconscious and bringing her to a recuperating sleep in his room. His drawings of the bird prove her flight happened. This delightful fable takes wing from yet another miraculous technology: the personification of sparrow Audrey. That also reminds us how we're more richly endowed than ever with the potential of imaginative flight. In the flesh or in our fancy we can escape our lives of quiet desperation.

mamlukman Saw this tonight at TIFF. Piers gave his usual pretentious introduction. I guess my reaction is WTF? It starts off fine, with interesting scenes of the airport…but are we supposed to follow one of these people we see? No. Is there a point to the long introduction? I think not. Then it switches to Audrey on the subway and bus, but a much shorter segment. So then we launch into this big story about Gary Newman (name has no significance according to the director-- she just chose a name that sounded common). Gary quits his job, marriage, children, house, etc. after thinking it over in a sleepless night. No real reason, just that he "feels like a melting sugar cube." Don't we all? So then there is a series of telephone calls with Gary's partners, lawyer, etc. Will this go anywhere in terms of advancing the story? No. Then a much, much longer Skype talk with his wife, Radha Mitchell (one of my favorites). Does this advance the story? No. Then all of a sudden we drop Gary and we focus on Audrey the maid. We know we're switching since "Audrey" appears in a heading on the screen. Subtle. So she gets some overtime, is invited to a party she doesn't go to, tells her father she spent the day at the university when she spent it being a maid at the hotel, and finally we are treated to watching her clean a couple rooms. Suddenly the power goes out, she goes up to the roof, feels that she is falling, and poof, she has turned into a sparrow. Then the sparrow flies around talking to itself and having various adventures. Then the bird turns back into Audrey, she gets on the elevator with Gary, and they have a conversation about "Personne" meaning both "no one" and "a person"--opposite meanings in the same word. Gary asks her what the opposite of this word would be in French. "Pareil" (the same) she says. (If this is the key to the movie, then I don't know how to turn it.) Then they shake hands. Fin.Maybe I missed everything about this movie, maybe not. Yeah, sure, it was technology vs. magic dream state. Sort of. But you know what? Audrey uses modern technology too. A lot of stuff about open windows…which means? Freedom? The best I can come up with is that they are both searching for a better life and looking for freedom. Otherwise, they seem to be random stories that have nothing to do with each other. And if there is an "ending" it eludes me. I'm adding this to my growing list of French films I find incomprehensible. I will say that Anais (Audrey) is cute, so she makes it watchable when she's on screen.Finally, you could also make the case that this whole movie is an extended ad for Marlboros. Everyone smokes--everyone. At every chance they get. They borrow cigarettes. The buy cigarettes. Every time they hold the cigarette box or put it down, we're treated to a closeup of the box and brand name. I guess my question here is how much money did Marlboro pay to get this sort of exposure? Why do we pay to see an ad?