The Ornithologist Screen 27 articles

The Ornithologist


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  • The film recalls both Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s Tropical Malady and Alain Guiraudie’s picaresque adventures, though it doesn’t always benefit from the comparison. Neither as effortlessly lyrical as the former, nor as surefootedly funny as the latter, Rodrigues and co-writer João Rui Guerra da Mata’s hit-and-miss inventions too often come off as mere provocation.

  • It's as shapeless and picaresque as the conventional Lives of the Saints, forming a clothesline more than a narrative. Granted, when this concerns getting peed on and being hogtied and swinging with your junk hanging out, as is the case here, it feels a bit more dreamlike, which is probably what Rodrigues is going for. At the same time, The Ornithologist gets a bit tiresome in its relentless punishment of the nonbeliever.

  • While it’s always nice to see artists expressing themselves, one can’t help but wish for something more exciting than a slow-moving, academic (though definitely not humorless) exercise in pseudo-blasphemy that won’t be seen by anyone who it might shock and won’t surprise anybody who’s spent more than a few days around a trendy film festival sidebar.

  • A hunky scientist (Paul Hamy) studies black storks through binoculars from his kayak. Later in João Pedro Rodrigues’s The Ornithologist, this title character turns into a different person Lost Highway–style, played by Rodrigues himself. The film obscurely recasts the life of St. Anthony of Padua for modern times.

  • The film revels in a hushed and lucid expressionist naturalism that's reminiscent of Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker.

  • [Rodrigues] continues the soul-searching outlook and inventive storytelling of “The Last Time I Saw Macao” and “To Die Like a Man,” but reaches for even more ambitious territory with equally confounding and enlightening results. This isn’t a crossover moment for Rodrigues, a favorite in certain diehard cinephile sects, but nevertheless marks a major step forward.

  • In the hands of a lesser director, all of The Ornithologist's competing signs would likely shake themselves apart, but Rodrigues is in such total control that the journey is impossibly smooth. Perhaps the best analogy for his wonderfully singular gaze is that of all the countless birds on Fernando's journey keep looking back at him; theirs is a gaze that quietly upends standard perspectives and takes flight as it will.

  • Rodrigues' loosest, freest film, alternately playful and serious, fantastical and grounded; a via crucis of transformation, like a snake shedding its skin or a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, an entire lifetime of cinephilia summed up and crystallized in two hours. It’s the gorgeous, supremely self-confident film I always felt Rodrigues could do if only he would let go—and he did.

  • Rodrigues’ depiction of this introspection creates an immersive and complex work, as well as his most conceptually dense. While it is only the latest in a string of ground-breaking works from the director, The Ornithologist cements Joao Pedro Rodrigues’ legacy as one of Portugal’s greatest filmmakers.

  • Rodrigues’ blasphemous exploration of the transformative process of religious awakening, through a serious of wild—at times sexual—adventures focusing on the pleasure and the pain of the body is a modern film, in line with Godard’s Hail Mary (1985) or Buñuel’s The Milky Way (1969). Also kind of a gloss on the western, The Ornithologist meanders in a pleasurable, kind of kooky way, befitting a film whose title evokes an Ornette Coleman album.

  • Rodrigues lingers over the erotic imagery of Saint Sebastian’s martyrdom and tantalizes with suggestions of the films of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Alain Giraudie, and Pier Paolo Pasolini. But it’s not obsequiously referential; instead, the film syncretizes these many points of intersection into an utterly idiosyncratic personal mythos, a wild congregation of styles, tones, and icons that coheres into a kind of self-portraiture that remains enigmatic and achingly intimate.

  • The film maps an eccentric, lyrical, unpredictable landscape entirely its own. Even so, I couldn’t help thinking that this is how it would look if Alain Guiraudie and David Lynch got together to remake Buñuel’s The Milky Way.

  • Festivals offer the chance to go out on a limb with wilder, more left field choices than you’d find playing long runs in your local multiplex. For beautiful lunacy you can’t beat The Ornithologist, a novel take on the myth of St. Anthony which blew minds at its recent premiere at Locarno as a hallucinatory, poetic but playfully batshit-crazy experience and a half.

  • Traversing far from conventional narrative, Rodrigues’s insights into storytelling, its affinity for apotheosis, and links between the supernatural and mundane worlds, are by intriguing turns both droll and brilliant.

  • The single most delightful and narratively adventurous movie I saw at Toronto... I’m still trying to figure out who the three bare-breasted huntresses are; they turn up on horseback with a heraldic blast of a horn, dogs barking and hooves pounding. That isn’t a complaint, but an acknowledgment of the story’s glories and mysteries, which makes “The Ornithologist” a good metaphor for both moviegoing and the festival experience at its best.

  • At once a subversively gay take on a religious icon and a cheerfully blasphemous chronicle of death and resurrection, “The Ornithologist” offered as pleasurable and fully sustained an immersion in pure cinema as any film in the festival.

  • Set along a river fjord in northern Portugal, Rodrigues’s audacious film plays like a contemporary picaresque in which the hunky titular bird-observer endures a series of erotic and violent encounters, first and most hilariously by a pair of Christian Chinese pilgrims, before transforming into a modern-day Saint Anthony. It’s a wild ride, close in spirit to his provocative debut O Fantasma (2000).

  • Utterly adventurous, João Pedro Rodrigues’s dizzying and highly personal The Ornithologist is loosely based on the life of St. Anthony of Padua and unfolds in the remote northeast wilderness of the director’s native Portugal.

  • ++

    Sight & Sound: Tom Charity
    October 07, 2016 | Toronto | November 2016 Issue (pp. 16)

    An extraordinarily rich, unpredictable fever-dream, a pilgrimage film that sits somewhere alongside Buñuel's The Milky Way (1969), Jarman's Sebastiane (1976) and Powell and Pressburger's A Canterbury Tale (1944) with its fusion of religious iconography and sexual and spiritual anguish, coupled with a palpable reverence for the mysterious cross-currents of the natural world – look out for it at the BFI London Film Festival.

  • One of my favorite movies in the festival. The strand in which it has been dumped — not to beat a dead horse, but what is the point if the category itself does not distinguish itself from the others? — gets less exposure than the dominant Main Slate. I’m doing my itsy bitsy part to redress the imbalance.

  • The full-bore intensity of this last passage is not to be underestimated, nor is the fact Rodrigues concludes his tale of wonderment concludes with a track by António Variações—the Portuguese glam rock icon who died of AIDS in 1984. For bringing these seemingly impossible contradictions together with no small amount of corporeal levity, The Ornithologist is easily his most Catholic (which is to say, Portuguese) film.

  • It's Rodrigues’ most thoroughly realized movie yet because he has the thematic and cinematic space to work out his ideas, and most importantly, he completely embraces the wonders and possibilities of storytelling, storytelling of the oldest kind, storytelling before plot points and third acts.

  • Calling to mind the best of Buñuel and Apichatpong, The Ornithologist adopts a dream logic that never begs for decoding, a sensuous engagement with the world that asks only to be experienced. As if to render the notion of intelligibility quaint, Fernando’s encounters repeatedly heighten the threshold for communication, whether by.... thwarting the very possibility of verbal exchange or by evoking the mysterious ways in which creatures of heaven and earth make contact across their estrangement.

  • The Portuguese director João Pedro Rodrigues has called The Ornithologist, which follows a lone bird expert in a remote northern part of the country, an “adventure film.” It’s a genre he fantastically destabilizes to encompass martyrdom, transmigration of the soul, and wild revelers cavorting in Mirandese, a nearly extinct language spoken in his country and one of five heard in this invigorating shape-shifter.

  • [Rodrigues'] approach to this material occasionally brings homoerotic themes to the forefront, and is very 21st-century in its knowing detachment and occasional mischief. By the same token, though, there are times when he flirts with the ridiculous, and delves into it. Mr. Rodrigues ultimately delivers an intriguing, daring film that is likely to surprise both his fans and moviegoers unfamiliar with his work.

  • Easier to admire than it is to describe, João Pedro Rodrigues's The Ornithologist dances around motifs of faith, death, and transfiguration without quite asserting what it's all about. The film recognizes its ambiguity, however, and has fun with it, shifting its shape whenever it seems like it's about to settle on a particular message.

  • João Pedro Rodrigues isn't the only filmmaker contributing to our current and unmistakably pink-sploitation renaissance. But with all due deference to this, the year of the peach, Rodrigues is arguably the only one who consistently makes films without a safe word. Such is his dogged pursuit of culturally hyperconscious pleasure that he even inverts what would be typically thought of as text and subtext in arty rough trade.

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