White Bird: A Wonder Story flutters onto the screen with a gentle promise of inspiration, a spin-off from the radiant Wonder, which I consider a brilliant five-star masterpiece. Directed by Marc Forster, this film attempts to weave a tale of kindness amidst the harrowing backdrop of Nazi-occupied France. While it doesn’t reach the soaring heights of its predecessor, White Bird still manages to deliver a heartfelt, if somewhat predictable, narrative that tugs at the heartstrings with its sincerity. It’s a movie I genuinely enjoyed, though it lacks the transformative magic that made Wonder an unforgettable gem.
The story centers on Julian Albans (Bryce Gheisar), the reformed bully from Wonder, now navigating a new school with a lingering sense of isolation. His grandmother, Sara (Helen Mirren), steps in to share her wartime story, a flashback that forms the film’s emotional core. Young Sara (Ariella Glaser) is a Jewish girl sheltered by Julien (Orlando Schwerdt), a polio-stricken classmate, and his family during World War II. This framing ties the film to Wonder’s themes of empathy, but it feels shaky, as if Julian’s journey is merely a springboard for a broader historical lesson rather than a fully integrated arc.
Ariella Glaser shines as young Sara, bringing a spirited innocence that gradually hardens into resilience. Her chemistry with Orlando Schwerdt’s Julien is the film’s beating heart, their bond blossoming through imaginative play in a barn that serves as both prison and sanctuary. These moments of levity—pretending an old car is a chariot to freedom—are touching, though they occasionally veer into a whimsical tone that feels at odds with the grim reality outside.
Helen Mirren, as the elder Sara, lends the film a grandeur that elevates its quieter moments. Her narration is warm yet piercing, a reminder of the stakes beyond the barn’s walls. However, her screen time is limited, and the present-day scenes with Julian feel underdeveloped. Wonder excelled by deeply exploring its characters’ inner lives, but White Bird leans heavily on Sara’s tale, leaving Julian’s redemption arc as more of an afterthought. It’s a missed opportunity to fully bridge the two stories.
Matthias Koenigswieser’s cinematography captures the idyllic French countryside with a glow that contrasts sharply with the darkness of war. Yet, this polish sometimes feels too pristine, smoothing over the raw edges of history. Compared to Wonder’s grounded realism, White Bird risks sanitizing its subject matter for a younger audience, a choice that softens its impact.
The supporting cast, including Gillian Anderson as Julien’s selfless mother, is the quiet strength that anchors the family’s bravery, though her role—like many others—feels secondary to the young leads.
At its best, White Bird delivers moments of genuine emotion. A scene where Sara and Julien confront encroaching danger through their shared imagination is both tender and heartbreaking, a testament to the power of hope amid despair. The score by Thomas Newman swells beautifully here, enhancing the film’s bittersweet tone. Yet, these highs are tempered by a predictability that Wonder avoided—every twist feels telegraphed, every lesson neatly packaged. The film’s pacing stumbles in its middle act, lingering too long in the barn’s confines. While Sara and Julien’s relationship deepens, the repetition of their hide-and-hope routine slows the momentum. Wonder kept its audience engaged with a brisk, multifaceted narrative, but White Bird occasionally feels like it’s treading water, waiting for its inevitable climax. Trimming fifteen minutes could have sharpened its focus without sacrificing heart.
White Bird excels as a teaching tool, offering a gentle entry into Holocaust narratives for younger viewers. Its emphasis on compassion in dark times is timeless, and the performances carry it far. But where Wonder felt like a revelation—raw, surprising, and deeply human—this film plays it safer, resting on familiar tropes.
For fans of Wonder, White Bird offers a nostalgic return to its universe, but with a different flavor. It’s less about personal transformation and more about historical reflection, a shift that may not satisfy those expecting the same emotional depth. I appreciated its grace and the way it honors small acts of bravery, but it never quite captures the spark that made Wonder a standout. It’s a bird that flies admirably but doesn’t soar to the same stratosphere.
White Bird is currently showing at Luna Palace Cinemas.
Email:neill@outloudculture.com
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