Directed By Theodore Melfi

Starring – Melissa McCarthy, Chris O’ Dowd, Kevin Kline

The Plot – A married couple (McCarthy, O’ Dowd) suffers a hardship, leading Jack to head off to deal with his grief while Lilly remains in the “real” world, dealing with her own guilt. As if Lilly’s troubles weren’t bad enough, a starling that has nested in her backyard begins to harass and attack her and she becomes comically obsessed with killing it. Lilly eventually finds guidance from Larry (Kline), a quirky psychologist-turned-veterinarian with a troubled past of his own. The two form a unique and unlikely friendship as they each help the other to explore, acknowledge and confront their problems.

Rated PG-13 for thematic material, some strong adult language, and suggestive material

the starling trailer – YouTube

POSITIVES

– Levitating leads. This is certainly an against type casting for McCarthy and O’Dowd, who both make the most of their performances with gripping and realistic takes on the diversity of grief. For McCarthy, there’s an autopiloted encompassing that not only leaves her monotonously moving through her everyday routine, but also one that simultaneously builds the abundance of pain and overwhelming pressure that leads to a satisfying blow-off. For Chris O’Dowd’s portrayal of Jack, he embodies the tenderness and vulnerability within a father that deconstructs the various pre-conceived notions of masculinity for an immersing frailty and overwhelming empathy that serves the character terrifically, despite the fact that a majority of our time is spent candidly with McCarthy’s character in tow. Beyond the central protagonists, Kevin Kline also supplants a nourishing turn as a psychologist-turned-veteranarian with his own quirky outlooks on life. Kline’s roles as of late have been few and far between when compared to a prominence over the 90’s and 2000’s that made him a household presence, so to see him here effectively captures all of the charisma and timing that has undoubtedly created an unfillable void by his absence, and given us another example of the value of his on-screen magnetism.

– Honest depiction. There’s a great appreciation that I have for Melfi’s direction that vividly paints the despair and captivity of the coinciding condition without using it as a gimmick for lukewarm melodrama. The grief in the film isn’t temporary or convenient when the ensuing subplots need it to materialize something obvious to move it to the next set piece, instead presiding over the characters and their actions in a way that illustrates the internal struggle for external consequences. It paints many varied levels of grief that range anywhere from expected sadness, to uncontrollable anger, to even shielding happiness, and gives each of them the kind of nuanced growth in their arrival that makes these feel like living, breathing entities instead of just characters for the sake of the screen. It strengthens the material with a maturity and openness not typically seen in today’s melodrama’s, and persists fluidly regardless of its effect on the overall entertainment factor for the film.

– Symbolic presentation. Perhaps I’m looking into matters too deeply, but I felt that the influences in personality within the cinematography from Lawrence Sher (Joker) played into the various frames of mind within the two protagonists, and like the starling itself fed into something metaphorical for its materializing. The color coordination here feels exponentially diverse, with McCarthy’s environmental elements harvesting a sun-peeking emphasis that feeds into the overhead optimism that the character seeks in opening up to a therapist and friends who only want the best for her. For O’Dowd’s Jack, the vibrancy fades away for a cold, callous interior pulse within each frame of this mental hospital that paints the complete absence of love or compassion from his daily routine. When the film isn’t being symbolic we’re treated to intoxicatingly beautiful entrancements of establishing and transitional shots within this California countryside, with as many mountains and golden-brown scenery to steal your breath away, and drive home a stylistic flare for the movie that I wasn’t expecting with a Netflix production.

NEGATIVES

– Tonal imbalance. This element hits the creativity of the movie hard, and undercuts scenes of palpable tension within the dynamic of this crumbling couple for a continuous splash of levity that contradicts everything previously established. Momentary comedy is fine in a dramatic film, but to the level of its incorporation in the film supplants an equally indecisive lack of commitment that doesn’t know what kind of genre it’s trying to be, all the while soiling these scenes of tenderness with slapstick humor that doesn’t decorate the material. With gags about dogs humping legs, or the physical war between woman and bird, it sometimes makes “The Starling” feel like two different films fighting for leverage and the attention of the audience, giving us a disjointed creativity that undercuts the heft of the drama, while articulating the desperation of the comedy, all in a film with many voices that never finds one it feels comfortable in sticking with.

– Problematic editing. During my watch of “The Starling” I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with this sense of inconsistency and dislogic that cut directly into the characterization of certain characters. Most obvious here are the supporting cast, like Daveed Diggs and Timothy Olyphant, who bring with them an intriguing dynamic with the leads that never gets explored, yet feels like so much more in the way the film leans heavily on them. This is made all the more evident with movements in the foreground of the story that don’t make sense between cuts, and present various moments when it feels like much time has passed, but it’s all presented in the context of being day to day. Some pivotal scenes of exposition and interaction feel left out from the finished product, and far too many inconsequential scenes persist in padding out the run time, which even at 104 minutes feels a bit too long for the material encased in its story.

– Profoundly shallow. Using metaphors as a mean to enhance the psychology of a film is certainly nothing new or problematic to the approach of many films. Ideally, Charlie Kaufman, one of my favorite directors working today, uses visual and psychological metaphors as a means to pain a profoundly invigorating bigger picture in what are these intimately harrowing stories. Such an attempt is made for Melfi, but not to the level that gives meaning for the interpretation. Case and point, the starling itself, which serves as a manifestation for McCarthy’s persistent grief, adds a violent tonal shift, which I previously mentioned, and essentially feels unnecessary when you remove it from the story all together, and lose nothing because of such. On top of this, the garden itself is a metaphor, the sno-balls snack cakes are a metaphor, and even the furniture is a metaphor. By approaching it in a way that is purely metaphorical, it loses much of the humanity hanging in the balance throughout, and chooses experimental over honest, with regards to themes that much of its audience can wholeheartedly relate to.

– Lifeless effects. It’s easy to understand why the production used C.G to represent the movements of the birds within the sequences themselves, but the cheap encompassing that springs from such creates no shortage of obvious problems that often broke my investment to the film. Aside from this element of production looking fake and lacking influence within the environment it interacts with, there’s an unintentionally laughable resonation that springs from its arrival, making these scenes serve as frequented distractions within the context of their creative manifestations. Beyond their designs, the movements of the birds feel strained and surreal to the point that they feel like they’re often flying while trying to carry an unforeseen extra fifty pounds to their bodily frame, maintaining a jerking consistency that isn’t any easier to forget about with the passing of the run time.

– Mundane music. Every one of the compositions from legendary composer Benjamin Wallfisch (Blade Runner 2049) is so surface level and meandering to the overall structure of the tonal enveloping, that it fails to take any chances or offer versatility in the repetition of its manufacturing. The instrumentals themselves are dully dreary, and swelled in volume to the capacity that they override the element of surprise in every sequence, choosing instead to paint an emotional picture long before we’ve ever had a chance to interpret one. Funny enough, the lyrical tracks are even worse, supplanting these on-the-nose lyrics and borderline spiritual that not only echo everything that has already been shaped in the context of the scene, but also are used in five different montages to annoying levels of visual storytelling. This is where the aforementioned editing could ease the pressure of such a circumstance, but instead we’re treated to sentimental fluff of the most frivolous kind, made arduous for its levels of repetition that continuously hammers it home.

– Wasted potential. Perhaps the biggest tragedy, and one that again weighs heavily on the flaws within the editing schemes, is the lack of material or direction for Daveed Diggs and Timothy Olyphant, that is especially troubling for a fanboy of both, like me. In reading the production notes, a lot of their scenes were nixed on the cutting room floor, leaving them with a couple of scenes between them, which serve as nothing more than typical plot devices for what’s called upon. This makes their casting seem all the more unnecessary when you consider these are two leading lads from their own respective histories, and ones with no shortage of palpable chemistry to influence and inflate audience enjoyment. They are instead left as mindless drones that occasionally bump into characters, and weave their way into frame, alluding to a duo of avenues for characters that I wish had a deeper sense of purpose in the film they consistently disappear from.

My Grade: 4/10 or D-