Birth

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 ****

(Disclaimer) If you like popcorn flicks, and are incapable of thinking during a movie, Birth is not for you, go see The Grudge instead. It may be more your speed.

Birth is a film for the thinker, the moviegoer that doesn't automatically shut down in the theater. This movie had me constantly trying to sort things out all the way through to the end.

I have read a few of the reviews on here and some of you might not be into the whole film-making process. Those that really study film and cinematography; will be treated to a 100 minutes of pure beauty in film-making. I loved how he transitioned between one shot and the next. The one scene that I found surprisingly effective is when he focused on Kidman's face for 3 minutes straight. He chose to use her silent acting abilities as a method to describe her consideration of this strange child. I am a lover of all forms of film, and I'm constantly on the lookout for the next film that gets my mind going. The last film to do that was Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Before that, it was Vanilla sky. Both of these films have been less than favored by the mass public. Its strictly because they DO cause you to think beyond "when is the hero going to prevail"

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' has a mixed to negative critical reaction, although Roger Ebert and Slant Magazine thought very highly of it, and the audience reaction is also very much polarising. Some love or appreciate 'Birth', others disliked it or were perplexed by it.

Seeing 'Birth', count me in as somebody who has high appreciation for it, despite not completely loving it and acknowledging that it has flaws. It is Jonathan Glazer's least accessible and most divisive film ('Under the Skin' is also polarising but was criminally acclaimed, unlike 'Birth') and is not his best film (that's his most accessible film 'Sexy Beast'), but it's his most underrated to me. Not as good as 'Sexy Beast' but despite the much lower rating there is a marginal preference to it than 'Under the Skin', which was still a good film.

The film is not perfect by all means. Its weak point is the ending, although it is heart-breaking and delicate it also leaves too many questions unanswered, too ambiguous and feels abrupt. More could have been done with Anne Heche's role, which was a little underdeveloped, Anne Heche admittedly does a great job. The dialogue is minimal, a good choice, but when it appears it's a little corny.

Didn't actually think at all that the film meanders in pacing, it is deliberate but essential to the story's atmosphere and adds a good deal. Was too transfixed by how well the film was made and acted to find it dull. Nor did Cameron Bright come over as wooden or without personality, it's a subtle but chillingly effective.

If one has to pick three particularly great things, it's the production values, the music score and Nicole Kidman. 'Birth' is exceptionally well made, although with heavy reliance on close ups it's very elegantly shot and sumptuously produced and designed. The acclaimed close up of Kidman's face at the opera is especially striking.

Alexandre Desplat's music score is one that fits perfectly in the film and is perfection of a score on its own. It's haunting, ominous understated and truly beautiful, one also that one can listen to over and over.

Kidman's performance here is astonishing and among her best. There is a huge amount of haunting intensity and heart-wrenching nuance. It's not just her in the cast who makes an impression. Bright and Heche do great jobs, Danny Huston gives a performance of intensity and vulnerability and Lauren Bacall is electrifying.

Regarding highlight scenes, the highlights are the opera, beach and Heche's confrontation scene. The controversial bathtub scene may seem unintentionally creepy at first and has been criticised for being perverted, but when reading into the defence of that scene it's a scene not deserving of the controversy and nowhere near as erotic or exploitative as it appeared on screen.

Story-wise, it's unusual but haunting and moving, with the questions it raises being dealt with sophistication, intrigue and sensitivity. The characters intrigue too.

Overall, very good film, polarising but to me under-appreciated. 8/10 Bethany Cox

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.