A Thing With Feathers (2025 | UK | 104 minutes | Dylan Suthern)
A middle-aged man loses his wife unexpectedly and so quickly that it leaves a gaping hole in his chest that can’t be quelled. He’s nearly paralyzed by grief, but he has two young boys to care for. Instead of dealing with the emotional fallout, he bottles it up inside until it swallows him whole. The manifestation of his pain comes in the form of a crow, starting as a normal bird, but with time becomes twisted, grotesque and incessant. Refusing to face it even as the voice of the crow consumes him, his boys start to suffer and act out in the only ways they know how. Attempting to pull himself together, he sends the boys to his brother’s only to spiral even more. His loved ones try to offer a safe haven, but he has to figure it out to truly escape the tar pit of loss.
Lets be clear, this is a Benedict Cumberbatch movie with occasional cameos from other characters. That’s not to say the others in the story don’t contribute, especially the entirely creepy and towering human-like crow exquisitely voiced by David Thewlis and performed by Eric Lampaert. However, the film is by and large about the mental anguish of loss and how one man handles the unbearable grief he is left with after his wife passes. Does it sound like I’m complaining? Because I’m not, quite the opposite. This is much like going to a playhouse in London and watching Kenneth Branagh perform Hamlet. It’s entirely a character driven film that puts you in the middle of a deep abyss of sadness hoping upon hope that Cumberbatch will help you both find the way out, while also realizing it’s quite possible you never will. That’s the beauty of this film, it’s closer to reality than any of us want to admit or go through ever again.
Loss has had a profound impact on who I am and who I have become over the last few years. While I don’t feel a sense of relief or healing after watching The Thing With Feathers, not once did I avert my gaze or think about turning it off for fear of being overwhelmed by my own feelings (*your milage may vary). On the contrary, I almost felt a kinship with Cumberbatch’s character. I experienced, as I’m sure anyone who’s gone through a huge loss has, almost all of the things that director Dylan Suthern so deftly portrayed either through the character’s internal dialogue or lived experiences (ex. unwanted attention and condolences from people you barely know). I’m sure much of this is also due to the source material, Max Porter’s Grief is the Thing with Feathers. Cumberbatch evoked the very personal and bewildering anguish that comes out of nowhere and hits you like a ton of bricks. It felt real and deep and laid bare the overwhelming helplessness and regret that surface when you’re reminded of that pain.
The crow as a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil was brilliant. Suthern’s hulking anthropomorphized passerine stood looming over the widower with judgement pouring salt in the wound as he drowned in emotion only to then becomes a trusted friend… comforting and accompanying him. Pain from loss is almost a consolation at times, reminding us of the love we shared and the one we miss so dearly, without that pain will they fade into the ether of our memories? Grief does really weird things to you and The Thing With Feathers reveals that in a deafeningly quiet narrative. It spoke to me in a way not a lot of other films on this subject have. While it may rip my guts out, I might have to pick up Max Porter’s book, I guess we need our guts ripped out every once in a while.
The Thing With Feathers arrives in theaters on 11/28