La naissance

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.

There is much to admire in this frustrating classy, pretty film. Nicole Kidman's performance for starters, an intriguing premise and a beautiful score. But this is a partial birth. Nothing is taking to completion. Scenes seem to start and then we're left with nothing. Important plot points are merely hinted while unnecessary repetitions are inflicted upon us with infuriating monotony. I'm not going to enter into details but just let me say that I was worked up to a frenzy without allowing me a climax of any kind. Nicole Kidman however is sublime. She is a fearless, sensational actress. She has one of the longest close ups in recent history and that is one of the greatest moments in a film full of almost great moments. There is something about Sean that doesn't make any sense. I'm not talking about young Sean but about the dead one. The Anne Heche's character is as absurd as Camilla Parker Bowles, with the difference that we know Prince Charles and the absurdity becomes him. We can't make head or tail of the dead Sean and as a consequence his life was merely a writer's excuse. Utterly unconvincing. In spite of all that I may see the film again and I've actually recommended it for Nicole Kidman's performance and a score that I've already bought and I've been playing incessantly.

Unusual, compelling drama that almost delivers us to a satisfying finish. A wealthy but emotionally fragile young woman in New York City, still grieving the sudden death of her husband 10 years before, seems ready to try marriage again with a new man until she's approached by a solemn little boy who, in all seriousness, claims to be her deceased spouse. Director and co-writer Jonathan Glazer knows he's treading unusual ground here--and, to his credit, never plays things safe (the word 'reincarnation' is never even uttered). Nicole Kidman is breathtakingly photographed; angular and arched like an elongated pixie, she takes the camera with hypnotic grace. Still, it can be difficult getting a fix on Kidman's Anna; slightly dazed and miles away, she's just beyond our reach. When Anna doesn't grill this gravely serious child on his story, such as demanding proof about who he says he is, she comes off seeming a bit hapless. Anna's family is just as ineffectual: they welcome the boy into their apartment, but instead of asking him questions they give him dessert. "Birth" has a mesmerizing setup, and has been directed with an arty sort of sophistication that primes us for a shrewd and cunning human drama. Glazer's downbeat ending is just tantalizing enough to cause discussion but, ultimately, it's a short-cut around the real issue: that the pieces of this mystery slowly lose their sting after a plot-thread is introduced involving Anne Heche and a box full of unopened love letters (which I didn't buy for a moment). Excellent performances, nevertheless, including Lauren Bacall as Kidman's mother, Danny Huston as the new fiancé, and Cameron Bright as the peculiarly focused and intense lad. Largely overlooked at awards season, though Kidman did receive a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actress-Drama. *** from ****

This story definitely did sound silly when I first read about it: a little boy thinks he is the reincarnation of the dead husband of still grieving Nicole Kidman. Mind you, this is a very serious movie without any fantasy or horror elements in it, therefore there has to be a reasonable, logical explanation why this little boy actually thinks he is the reincarnated dead husband. There is a plausible reason though, which of course I wont reveal here. But there is more to this movie, then just a genius plot that has to be unravelled. The acting is really impressive, with continuous suspenseful and emotionally charged mindgames.

Not suited for the impatient ones, because this movie takes it time to unfold, but when it does it was quite emotionally devastating for me personally, because of the impressive true to life acting performance of Nicole Kidman. I didnt get cheery watching it, I didnt get shocked either, but I did get emotionally touched in a profound way near the very end of this beautiful, delicate portrait about grief....

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.