Blackbird
SCREEN MEDIAAs a bemused and puzzled looking Sam Neill walks on screen, feeding tomatoes and watering chickens, Blackbird opens with an immediately relaxed scene. In just a brief few moments, it showcases itself as a turgid, light drama, before bashing this sentiment down entirely – it follows some moments of raw, peculiar beauty with a dialysis machine and a woman in the final stages of her life. Muted and uneventful styles are the least of director Roger Michell’s worries, as he presents the tale of a terminally ill mother who invites her family over for one final gathering. The obvious progression of unrewarding home truths and meddling with the emotional strings connecting the hearts to the mind is sick indeedand of little interest to cast and crew.
With such a strong cast fluttering through this grand and sweeping home, it is a true surprise to see how little Blackbird has to offer. Not just narratively, but with its dialogue and its camerawork. Susan Sarandon, at the centre of it all, offers little outside of the norm. She is a terrified mother, accepting her mortality and trying to send her children and loved ones off with one last makeshift meal. Due to the lack of narrative bite, it unfortunately works poorly as a talking point. No lines of dialogue presented here are of real importance, while there is little impression left on the screen, once the noise and tension dissipate.
A weak message is left behind, and with Rainn Wilson, Kate Winslet and Mia Wasikowska being left to pick up the pieces, it is relatively comforting to know that they are in safe hands. Clearly trying their best to make do with a less than stellar situation, those performers struggle throughout Blackbird to find any chemistry or angle to hone in on. What comes forth, then, is a bland and unpalatable bore, which fumbles from its immediate opening by coming forward as static. Michell rarely encroaches on quality, and it is clear here that he is suffering the same issues with Notting Hill and Le Week-end. Attempts at a fulfilling narrative are so forced, and feverishly pursued, that all natural charms and oddities that can flower from such an open, yet predictable script, are removed.
While it may not be the worst offering of this horribly new and ineffective sub-genre, where terminally ill characters are looking for respite and conclusions to their lifestyle, Blackbird is the most placid of them all. It offers nothing in the way of innovation, very little when it comes to striking or engaged characters, and a directing style so forgettable that, at times, it feels that nobody is behind the camera. With little in the way of quality control, the dangerous effects of overconsumption and dreary, weak prose overtake. Blackbird doesn’t soar as it should, its wings are clipped, and it plummets to the ground with all the grace of that metaphorical mess.