Written and Directed by Ivan Grbovic
Starring Jorge Antonio Guerrero, Hélène Florent, Claude Legault, and Marine Johnson
Runtime: 105 minutes
Premieres at TIFF on September 13th

by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

Director/cowriter Ivan Grbovic’s enthralling film, Drunken Birds, which just had its World Premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, lures viewers in with its hypnotic imagery, then it pulls them along with its absorbing story. 

The opening scene may not make sense at first—it will by the end—but it intrigues, like the following shot, of a car on fire. The plot begins in earnest as Willy (Jorge Antonio Guerrero, of Roma) is told by a man with a gun who is chasing him, to “disappear.” It soon becomes clear that Willy has declared his love for Marlena (Yoshira Escárrega), the girlfriend of a Mexican cartel kingpin, and both lovers are on the run. Cut to a lettuce farm outside of Montreal. Willy has arrived here as a migrant worker because he plans to reunite with Marlena. He believes her to be in Canada and is determined to find her and be with her.

While very much Willy’s story, Drunken Birds also focuses on the family dynamic of the farmers, Richard (Clause Legault), his wife Julie (Hèlène Florent), and their teenage daughter, Léa (Marine Johnson). Julie has had an affair with a worker (as a scene in a corn field shows), and Léa is looking to escape from her dysfunctional family and the stifling life on the farm. The restlessness of these two women is certainly going to collide with Willy’s own romantic desires. 

The search for Marlena drives the narrative, and the film is ripe with romantic pain. A letter Willy reads from Marlena is full of passion and yearning. A parallel story Willy is told about a shy young man in love with a film star—recounted in luminous black and white—has a marvelous pay off. And even the side conversations in an internet café where Willy tries to track Marlena down, ripple with voices of affection. When Willy encounters Julie at various times, they flirt, but it is to Grbovic’s credit that the film does not go for the obvious.

That said, there is a lengthy episode featuring Léa engaging in some sex work that contrives the film’s plotting. The scenes, however, are brilliantly filmed. Léa wears a shimmery, silver sequin dress and the gentleman she is with is almost faceless, anonymous. This whole subplot may feel like a narrative lapse, but it ultimately propels the film to its climax. Such is the power of Grbovic’s curlicue storytelling.

What really distinguishes Drunken Birds are its visuals. A dramatic sequence shot in the rain (and through a car windshield) is stunning. There is an incredible scene that unfolds at the cartel kingpin’s estate that brims with tension as characters wander through a surreal landscape. A tracking shot of Asian art forgers is almost superfluous in the context of the story, but it mesmerizes. There is more, much more, and every shot is gorgeous, and impressively framed. 

The actors are also showcased well. Jorge Antonio Guerrero is magnetic as Willy. There is a dignity to him as a worker, but he exudes sex appeal in his scenes with Marlena and his exchanges with Julia. Guerrero is especially good during his dramatic moments as he conveys so much despair with just his expressions and body language. 

Hèlène Florent and Marine Johnson lend fine support, plumbing the depths of their characters, as they seek distraction from their sad, boring lives. 

As the film circles back to that opening scene, revealing the moment that initiated all that came before it, Drunken Birds astonishes. This is a phenomenal drama about love and longing.