THE THING WITH FEATHERS Takes to Wing

Introduction

Dylan Southern’s The Thing with Feathers is an adaptation of Max Porter’s 2015 novel Grief is the Thing with Feathers, so now that you know what the Thing is, you can stop reading. Read on, however, if you’d like to learn more about this tender, violent, harrowing film, which explores male grief in inventive and illuminating ways.

Dylan Southern’s previous work has been in documentaries. More specifically, music documentaries. He has filmed Blur, LCD Soundsystem, and Oasis, as well as a documentary cataloguing the 2000s New York City music scene, Meet Me in the Bathroom. I didn’t know this until after viewing The Thing with Feathers, but it’s not surprising in hindsight. The film cleverly utilizes music as a storytelling device, humanizing the characters within and instantly bonding us with them.

Synopsis

The film centers around tragedy, loss, and death. “Mom” has died, unexpectedly, falling in the kitchen and hitting her head. Left in her wake are Dad and his two Sons. If it seems like I’m being intentionally vague, I am, because the film is, too. Dad and the two Sons aren’t given names because all they know of themselves has been filtered through Mom. They’re not independent people. They’re rudderless support characters now with no anchor. 

Dad (Benedict Cumberbatch) is not taking the loss of Mom well. An illustrator by trade, he tries to throw himself back into work sooner than he should. He notes that he’s ill-equipped to be a father and even less so to act as a live-in therapist for his children.

The film begins after the funeral. Dad shows tenderness and love, congratulating the boys on their behavior at the funeral. He puts them to bed, kissing each on their gentle heads, and goes back downstairs for a good sob. The next morning, it’s apparent immediately that he doesn’t know how to feed or raise his boys. As they brush their teeth together, there’s one toothbrush that remains unused. A talisman of the one they’ve lost.

Before long, Dad’s grief manifests itself in the form of Crow, a man-sized apparition of grief. It comes with the mission of guiding Dad through his despair and challenging him to confront the reality of his situation.

Crow haunts Dad, taunting him while pushing him through his process. The murky nature of Crow’s reality is presented through Dad’s hallucinations but also via quiet moments with the Boys. Crow assures them all that he’ll be around as long as he’s needed. That his presence is a blessed one, as something much darker awaits them if his help is refused.

Analysis

The Thing with Feathers is an apt depiction of grief. It settles upon our shoulders, heavy and solitary. As we walk with this ominous black harbinger weighing us down, we don’t even notice it on others. Living with grief is like becoming a star-bellied Sneetch. Everyone else with the mark is unremarkable. It’s a commentary on the personal nature of grief that strips us of empathy.

This is apparent in Dad’s dealings with his Sons and his in-laws. Father-in-Law sits in silence, impotent to offer solace or perhaps just too burdened by his own albatross. Mother-in-Law is clearly hurting, but everyone around her is so engulfed in their own pain that she cries alone.

Grief is very much like a crow. It’s heavy and omnipresent, but capable of flying away at times, only to return unexpectedly and more frightening. It takes things, trinkets of memory, and flies away, eventually returning with them days, weeks, months, or years later, glinting in the sun through our darkness.

This Crow delights in English widowers and motherless boys. As voiced by David Thewlis, Crow is menacing yet is also oddly comforting. It’s good to know that he’s there, tethering us to the reality that we must inevitably acknowledge. 

This film is dark, literally. There are elements of horror throughout, though it’s largely hopeful and, at times, funny. Cumberbatch wears his grief on his face and body throughout, but we’re given moments of the absurdity of loss.

There’s a moment when another parent at the Boys’ school offers her condolences, suggesting a playdate, only to saunter on and have Dad and the Boys agree they have no idea who she is. Dad has a support structure, and the Boys have a grief counselor. However, as men, they eschew all efforts. Grief is a sport to be won.

Further Discussion

The Sons, played by newcomers Henry and Richard Boxall, are exactly as you’d imagine 7-year-old boys to be when the structure of their lives is shattered: lost, angry, scared, and confused. The Boxalls are excellent young actors. You’d be a viewer with a heart of stone if you remain unmoved by their performances.

The Thing with Feathers is a film made with tenderness and care, but I don’t think it will heal anyone who says it might. It makes some clever allegories of grief and death and fairly illustrates the selfish nature of wallowing in one’s own misery. It doesn’t offer solutions so much as cautionary tales.

There’s a moment toward the end of the film when Crow sits on the davenport with the Boys and Dad, and the camera conveys its weight that I found particularly poignant. The Thing that waits beyond the tutelage of Crow is appropriately terrifying, making for a powerful sequence.

There are several moments when Dad is working at his illustration easel and channels a crow, twisting his body and cawing like some mad Thing. I think this is an allusion to Dad’s being Crow, both for himself and his Boys, but it’s left open for interpretation.

All told, The Thing with Feathers is a beautifully made film with practical effects, excellent acting, clever musical cues, and an ultimately hopeful message. It won’t heal you, but it might make you feel seen. I suppose that’s all any reasonable person could ask for. 

Conclusion

The Thing with Feathers will surely delight readers of Max Porter’s book, and he shows up towards the end as Handsome Man at Book Launch, so there’s an Easter Egg for you, as well. Benedict Cumberbatch is characteristically excellent, pouring himself selflessly into the role of Dad and showing masculine stoicism and vulnerability in equal shares.

Henry and Richard Boxall are revelations as the Boys, marking the emergence of brave new talents on the screen. The supporting cast is all believable and serves the story, with Thewlis’s voicework as a standout performance. I missed this film when it played at Tribeca earlier this year, so I was delighted to catch it before its release here in the States on November 28th. 

The artwork by Lucy Sullivan and the impressive practical sculpting work by Nicola Hicks lend Crow a substantial presence in the film, and the narrative structure of seeing things unfold through Dad, Crow, and the Boys, offers the audience some semblance of order in their tumultuous time.

This is a great film for those who’ve experienced grief and an apt representation of the enveloping darkness that one feels in its wings. Not terrifying enough for horror hounds and at times too disturbing for straight drama enthusiasts, this film fits in the narrow space between light and dark, life and death, despair and hope. In that way, it’s perfect for every messy, corporeal, living human being: Especially English widowers and motherless children.

The Thing with Feathers premieres in US cinemas on Friday, November 28th.

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