‘The Thing with Feathers’ Review: Benedict Cumberbatch Plays a Widowed Father in a Movie That’s Overly Literal About Turning Grief into — Yes — an Oversize Crow

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In “The Thing with Feathers,” Benedict Cumberbatch portrays a London graphic novelist who unexpectedly becomes a widower when his wife tragically passes in their kitchen. In one of the initial scenes, he attempts to maintain a sense of ordinary life while preparing breakfast for his two young sons. However, this proves challenging as he seems to be handling multiple tasks simultaneously. Consequently, he accidentally burns the toast and hastily scrapes off the blackened portions, adding to his distress.

As a movie critic, I found myself deeply moved by the unnamed character, or as the credits referred to him, “Dad.” Sitting on the couch after the funeral, his silent sobs poured forth like an endless stream, a testament to the raw emotion that Benedict Cumberbatch was able to convey. It’s not just that he cried, it’s how he acted with every tear, each one a powerful expression of the depth of this father’s sorrow and the abyssal agony he felt. Cumberbatch’s performance in these moments was nothing short of breathtaking.

However, that morning scene in the kitchen brings forth another dimension of mourning. It evoked memories of Dustin Hoffman’s character in “Kramer vs. Kramer,” struggling to maintain composure while preparing breakfast for his son after their separation. The film’s strength lies in its portrayal of the harsh reality that a disintegrating marriage forces one to handle tasks they once relied on their partner for. This isn’t just about logistical challenges; it’s a genuine aspect of the ordeal. In “The Thing with Feathers,” Cumberbatch laments how he had come to depend on his wife for everything. I initially expected the movie, with its piercing intimacy, to vividly portray the chaotic life of a widower like myself – emotionally, spiritually, and practically.

An unexpected element in the story was the presence of winged creatures, specifically a crow. This bird, in startling close-ups of its beak and wings, creates a sense of shock reminiscent of horror movie scenes. It’s not unreasonable to associate the sudden grief of losing a spouse with feelings of terror. However, in “The Thing with Feathers,” we find it peculiar that this emotion is portrayed through abrupt, seemingly random jump scares. One might wonder why this crow keeps appearing throughout the narrative.

In essence, it’s not just any common crow; it’s a significant figure, serving as a harbinger of sorts. Much like Benedict Cumberbatch and his unnamed cohorts in the movie are dealing with this persistent, noisy, and ominous bird-like adversary, there is another formidable foe lurking: a colossal eight-foot crow, often referred to simply as… Crow. This towering crow, voiced by actor David Thewlis, speaks in a chilling British tone, reminiscent of a blend between the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh and Edgar Allan Poe’s Raven saying “Nevermore!”. He greets with unsettling phrases like “Good morning, English widower! Sleep well, did we?” At first glance, he seems to be tormenting or embodying Cumberbatch’s fears.

In essence, Cumberbatch seems to be expressing emotions that are deeply personal to him through his work. As he grapples with his own turmoil, he finds solace in art. In the confines of his home studio, he sketches intricate images (of a raven) that seem to have been born from a dark, gothic fantasy. These illustrations will form part of an upcoming graphic novel. It’s as if he is weaving this entire scenario. However, the raven, a rather imposing figure, isn’t just a figment of his imagination; it has materialized in his workspace to engage with Cumberbatch, serving as a supernatural companion, confidant, and mentor. This ominous bird might appear threatening, but its purpose is healing.

The film, titled “The Thing with Fathers,” exhibits a hint of pompous affectation. According to Wikipedia, it’s based on the Crow from Ted Hughes’ 1970 poetry book. Interestingly, it seems reminiscent of a horror movie blockbuster. This production, which serves as a catharsis for grief, navigates a liminal space between psychological drama and dark fantasy.

Dylan Southern, who wrote and directed the film, drew inspiration from Max Porter’s 2015 novella “Grief is the Things with Feathers.” The movie appears to be quite proud of its lofty aspirations, which it expresses visually through a nearly square aspect ratio and somber, polished images. However, the overall effect is heavy-handed and, in an unusual twist, not particularly engaging.

The crow character fails to engage emotionally; he’s overly serious, pushy, and more focused on visual impact rather than developing a distinct personality. His main message, although valid, lacks originality. It appears the film aims to convey the importance of distinguishing grief from despair. Grief is presented as healthy, while despair is not advisable. For someone who has experienced a tragedy, it’s crucial to grieve and face the reality, but there’s a fine line between genuine mourning and dwelling on pain. This narrative about grief seems more like a basic lesson in Mental Health rather than a deep emotional exploration.

In order for there to be a movie, Benedict Cumberbatch must push the boundaries, even going as far as overacting at times – portraying his character as if he’s a man possessed by midnight madness, drunk on whiskey. The actor brings authentic emotion to many scenes, but lacks a suitable counterpart. Unfortunately, the film fails to create distinct personalities for the two boys (portrayed by brothers Richard and Henry Boxall), making it difficult to differentiate between them. The relationship between a father and his sons, as they navigate their new life and fight against despair, should have been the heart of the story. However, we’re left with a solitary character engaged in a repetitive interaction with his mysterious feathered companion. This results in a rather unintelligent plot device.

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2025-01-26 10:16