White Bird: A Wonder Story
The Holocaust has produced a steady stream of movies, and White Bird: A Wonder Story is one of the latest ones. Based on a graphic novel and directed by Marc Forster, it is now streaming on the Netflix platform.
Set mainly in Vichy France, with occasional scenes unfolding in contemporary New York City, this drama oscillates between the present and the past, enveloping viewers in a compelling narrative about resilience, kindness, cruelty and survival.
The two principals are Sara Blum (Ariella Glaser), a Jewish teenager facing deportation to a Nazi concentration camp, and Julien Beaumier (Orlando Schwerdt), her fellow student and Christian rescuer.
The story begins in New York as Sara (Helen Mirren), now a grandmotherly figure and an internationally renowned artist, recalls what happened to her and her family decades ago in German-occupied France. She relates the details to Julian (Bryce Gheisar), her grandson. As usual, Mirren delivers a finely nuanced performance.
It all starts in 1942 in a village that German forces have just entered. Sara, a bright high school student, encounters Vichy antisemitism on a first-hand basis when she enters a bakery and is given a cold reception by the owner. As she leaves, she spies an unsettling sign on the window: No service to Jews.
This appears to be the first time that Sara has been personally exposed to Vichy’s anti-Jewish edicts. “Why do people hate us so much?” she wonders.
It defies explanation why a girl of her intelligence would have been unaware of this hatred before this juncture. In this sense, the screenplay is rather simplistic.
Certainly, her father is under no illusions. Convinced that Jews are at risk, he wants to leave the village immediately. Sara’s mother is less discerning, insisting that France is “our country” and likening Vichy’s antisemitic animus to a bad storm that will eventually subside.
Their clashing points of view concerning Vichy intentions is probably a good barometer of Jewish public opinion during this era.
The balance of the film unfolds as Sara eludes a German roundup of local Jews and finds a hiding place. Julien, an exceptionally bright young man whom other students have ostracized, saves Sara. He leads Sara to his family’s farm, which serves as her haven.
For the next few months, the barn in which she lives constitutes her entire world. Julien is not only a friend and protector, but ultimately a romantic partner. Glaser and Schwerdt are convincing in their respective roles.
The film draws a devastating portrait of Vichy venality, but presents Sara’s friendship with Julien tenderly. This dimension of the film is likely to win over viewers.
Compared to previous made-for-television Holocaust films, White Bird is competently-crafted, holds its own, and is worthy of attention.
