Although set in the wilderness of rural Australia, Jack Clark and Jim Weir’s Birdeater has nothing to do with the deadly species of arachnid. It does however, feature a Buck’s party gone wrong, when the bride-to-be tags along.
Birdeater opens with a man, Louie (Mackenzie Fearnley), staring intensely down the camera lens. His unflinching gaze is immediately uncomfortable for the viewer. The camera then pulls back to reveal the actual target of Louie’s intense gaze – Irene (Shabana Azeez). Although she is seen smiling back, and the following section of the Birdeater is a montage of their relationship, it’s an early red flag as to where the story will venture.
By the end of the opening montage, Irene and Louie are engaged. Their connection is frighteningly close, to the point that Irene is medicated for the separation anxiety she feels when apart from Louie. It is her condition that prompts Louie to invite Irene along for his Buck’s do, which is the beginning of the downfall of their romance. Despite being engaged, Irene knows little about Louie’s friends, and there is an immediate friction when they all arrive at the accommodation. The addition of one of Irene’s male friends, invited to help her feel more at home, only increases ill-feelings further.
Even Louie himself seems at odds with his friends. Several of them are rowdy and outspoken, which is in stark contrast to Louie’s quieter, more serious demeanour. As the weekend begins to play out, everyone politely tiptoes around each other, that is until an explosive revelation and unexpected plan are revealed over dinner. These two events break the levee and suddenly everyone is overflowing with thoughts and emotions, leading to a wild and reckless third act.
Birdeater is an exceptional pot boiler of a film. It starts quietly, slowly simmering away, until boom, everything bubbles over. Clark and Weir demonstrate great skill at creating tension out of nothing. That even in the most innocent of exchanges, dread permeates the air, is testament to Clark and Weir’s talents. Their slow and steady work building up subtle tension is complimented perfectly by the group’s later descent into Hell. What was formerly a calm framework, distorts into a cacophony of noise and frantic edits and further ill-ease.
At the heart of the tension and chaos are Louie and Irene. Their story is a fascinating one. Birdeater delves into coercive control at the darkest of levels. It is how innocently the first revelation about their dynamic is revealed that impacts the viewer the hardest. It rings true of those that find themselves in these scenarios and places the audience into the position of friend, leaving them, like those around the couple, to figure out whether and how they should intervene. The reveal is immediately followed up with is the perfect move to ensure an explosive response for everyone demonstrating just how toxic some relationships can be. Through Irene and Louie, and the differing versions of them seen throughout the narrative, Birdeater perfectly exemplifies that you never truly know those around you.
Australian genre cinema has, over the years, developed a reputation for its brutality. Films from the country are often bleakly violent, but Birdeater excels by taking a softer and more disturbing approach. That this is not a wild man hacking his way through tourists, or a teen torturing the object of their affection, is a nice change-up. Birdeater of course isn’t the first Australian film to skirt the gore, but its focus on relationships is different to a mother in crisis or a grieving teenager. The deviation to expectations is appreciated and allows Birdeater to stand proud as a new entry into the country’s cinematic lore.
Birdeater
Summary
In Birdeater, Jack Clark and Jim Weir weave an impressively dark tale of coercive control and toxic relationships.
Birdeater was reviewed at SXSW 2024.
