‘The Thing With Feathers’ Review: A Go-for-Broke Benedict Cumberbatch Unravels in a Movie Stuck Awkwardly Between Horror and Psychodrama

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In contrast to numerous films depicting chilling physical representations of sorrow, Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook stands out as an exceptionally terrifying example of hand-crafted horror delving into this theme. This unsettling impact is echoed in Dylan Southern’s The Thing With Feathers, where a sinister presence, reminiscent of Edward Gorey’s creations, torments the main characters. However, Benedict Cumberbatch‘s performance as a grieving husband in this film provides a powerful counterpoint to the horror. His portrayal is marked by madness and complete immersion into the role, leaving no aspect of his character’s pain unexplored. Throughout the movie, his emotional scars are continually reopened.

The original text is Max Porter’s 2015 novella titled “Grief Is the Thing With Feathers“, which was later transformed into a single-actor play seen on both sides of the Atlantic. This adaptation and direction were handled by Irish playwright Enda Walsh, with Cillian Murphy in the leading role. The book is a compact exploration of various literary forms, blending prose, poetry, essays, humor, and fables in an unusual way, making it hard to classify. Despite appearing challenging for adaptation, this free-flowing work of fiction was well-suited for Walsh’s expressive, theatrical style.

Restated in a simpler and clearer manner:
The symbolic representation of sorrow as a crow in the movie can be too repetitive and heavy-handed, losing its emotional impact. Additionally, the use of horror elements doesn’t seem suitable for director Aneesh Chaganty, whose expertise lies in music documentaries and videos. The sudden loud noises and jump scares feel aggressive rather than startling, detracting from the intended effect.

In a solemn moment, Cumberbatch’s father appears in the living room, quietly showing pride in sons Richard and Henry Boxall, who had bravely made it through their mother’s funeral that day. Struggling to maintain composure for the boys, who were both saddened but resilient, the father was a wreck inside, his state of shock deteriorating as days passed and he longed in vain for some semblance of normality to return to his life.

Despite appearing well-organized as a parent by preparing breakfast for the boys, driving them to school, and maintaining a semblance of normality, the growing disarray of his home mirrors only the external chaos, while the turmoil within his mind remains unchecked and untidy.

Crow, portrayed by Eric Lampaert and voiced by David Thewlis, presents as a menacing figure who looms over Dad. With his working-class accent, foul language, and mocking tone, he resembles a villainous character from Dickens, similar to Fagin but with wings and talons. He reveals that humans, except for widowers in mourning and children without mothers, hold little appeal for him.

In Porter’s novel, the father character is engaged in two different pursuits based on the medium: academia and graphic arts. While the academic father in the book was researching and writing about Ted Hughes’ “Crow,” a book inspired by the death of his wife Sylvia Plath in 1963, the movie dad is a graphic novelist, working tirelessly to create charcoal drawings for an upcoming book centered around crows. Despite the publisher’s advice to disregard deadlines due to his recent grief, the father insists that having a project to work on is beneficial for him.

Southern structures the narrative into four sections: “Dad”, “Boys”, “Crow”, and “Demon”. The initial three chapters are narrated from the viewpoints of these characters, while the final one portrays the destructive chaos that arises when Dad prematurely evicts Crow from their home. The storyline progresses from deep sorrow to utter despair, then to fear, finally reaching a glimmer of hope for healing. However, the film remains surprisingly detached, despite Cumberbatch’s intensely emotional and harrowing portrayal.

In the boys’ segment, there’s a sense of poignancy as they comment on the transformations in their father through voiceovers: “When dad transformed, he became silent and filled with anger.” Later, we see them consoling him after an outburst of fury: “At times, he seemed like our father again.” The young performers deliver compelling performances, yet neither boy is fully fleshed out as a character beyond being a distraction to their father due to their rowdy play. As a result, they lack depth in a narrative where we might have expected them to touch our emotions deeply.

In the movie, Thewlis’ portrayal of Crow, particularly his interactions with “Sad Dad,” often escalate into brutal physical confrontations. However, the oppressive nature of this character becomes repetitive and exaggerated, losing its effectiveness as a symbol of grief. This is one of the film’s main issues. Although it uses dark visuals and eerie sounds, it fails to create a truly terrifying atmosphere, neither delivering on horror elements nor offering enough intrigue to carry significant psychological depth.

Given the sensitive nature of its content, “The Thing With Feathers” surprisingly maintains a certain distance. The challenges it faces in establishing a consistent tone and generating emotion are exacerbated by some rather conspicuous voice choices.

Southern skillfully employs music to set a scene, yet the lyrics of Vic Chestnutt’s “Flirted With You All My Life” seem remarkably direct, with the line “Oh death, I’m not ready” resonating particularly poignantly as Dad seems to be making progress in his grief. While I always appreciate Fairport Convention songs, their tune “Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” opens with lyrics about birds migrating, which can’t help but feel symbolic of time’s relentless passage.

When Crow gets a bit overwhelming, the movie shines brightest by matching Thewlis’s dark humor in the unusual bird-human interaction. I found myself chuckling at Crow’s disdain for Dad’s sentimental song selection one evening, as he dismissively knocked Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s mournful “I Called You Back” off the turntable and swapped it with Screamin’ Jay Hawkins’ energetic, foot-tapping dirty blues track “Feast of the Mau Mau.” Instead of the somber melody, Crow opted for a more lively tune.

As a gamer, I found myself subtly controlling Dad like a virtual character, transforming his initial rigid movements into a sort of wild, trance-like dance. The crow, having successfully pulled off this intricate maneuver, took a step back to bask in its victory, creating a moment of raw, primal release for the grieving man. This brief respite served as a much-needed lift in a movie that left me numb due to its relentless emotional assault.

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2025-01-26 10:25