Glendyn Ivin | 1hr 35min
This review was requested by Lloyd, who shared the following thoughts:
“Naomi Watts and team try to make a heartfelt true story into a family Aussie classic. Using actual locations, the filmmakers draw from the real life Bloom family as much as possible, even utilising the Bloom family’s actual house – one of the best features of the film! The actual magpie Penguin Bloom is very believable blending actual trained magpies and some CGI. The children did an incredible job acting alongside such accomplished actors like Naomi Watts. Unfortunately the drama builds around a climax of guilt and blame which no actor not even one as good as Naomi Watts can help bring to life. I think the story of someone coming to terms with their disability and their new way of life with a miracle bird helping out along the way would have been strong enough. And by gosh the use of symbolism could have been taken out completely. “
When Noah, Rueben, and Oli Bloom find an injured magpie chick down by a Sydney beach, their mother Sam is reluctant to give it a home. This family has enough to worry about, she protests, and wild birds aren’t meant to stay confined forever. To be fair though, ever since a rotted balcony railing gave way on a family vacation and left her paralysed from the chest down, there hasn’t been much that has brought her joy. If anything, the addition of a disabled pet to the family is just another reminder of everything she has lost – though soon enough it will be this same bird’s resilience and instinctive will which reignites her spirit.
With a little more narrative finesse, Penguin Bloom’s real-life story of animal companionship and emotional healing might have lent itself well to the screen. As it is, this screenplay hangs everything on its central metaphor, yet never quite manages to probe any deeper than the surface parallels between Sam and the ironically named Penguin. Two survivors, each damaged by great falls, must relearn how to navigate the world and spread their wings once more – though somehow this is both overstated and underexplored. “It must be weird to have wings and not be able to fly,” one of Sam’s children ponders, and therein lies the shallow extent of insight applied to their intertwined arcs.
This is not to say efforts aren’t made to lift Penguin Bloom beyond its dull, formulaic writing. Glendyn Ivin’s direction is nicely attuned to the gorgeous luminescence of magic hour along Sydney beaches, employing slow-motion photography to languish in their beauty, and his authentic use of the Blooms’ airy, spacious home lets interiors glow with natural light and coastal views. The adult cast also pulls their weight with what little material they have, seeing Andrew Lincoln deliver a commendable Australian accent while Jacki Weaver shines in her limited screen time, though it takes a generational talent like Naomi Watts to draw any emotional nuance from this thinly written screenplay. We’ve seen her embody the raw essence of trauma in 21 Grams after all, and although her depression is often reduced to violent outbursts towards honey jars and family photos, she still effectively captures the despondency of a woman withdrawing into lonely bitterness.
Unfortunately, the three child actors don’t fare so well, especially with the eldest’s arc largely confined to voiceover. The guilt that Noah carries for his mum’s accident serves little purpose besides revealing the extensive impact of her accident, and is all too handily set up and resolved in just two scenes. For any emotional grounding, we must instead keep turning to Sam’s relationship with Penguin, as well as her decision to retake control of her life. Once an active surfer, she finds herself drawn back towards the ocean, though this time through kayaking lessons that gently initiate physical and psychological rehabilitation.
None of this is to diminish the real Sam Bloom’s extraordinary journey, which is nothing short of a marvel, but Penguin Bloom struggles to translate that strength into compelling drama. Pathos is drawn far more from the true story rather than any specific choices made to adapt it, leading the film to sentimentally prioritise its premise over its execution. As such, this bland adaptation of an otherwise impressive life feels more like a tribute than a cinematic portrait, edging towards inspiration through its simplistic animal metaphor, yet never quite taking flight.
Penguin Bloom is currently streaming on Stan.
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Thanks so much Mr Green!