How is it that we can enter a theatre dry-eyed and fresh-faced and emerge several hours later, eyes glistening with tears? It is not simply violence or harm that touches our soul. To elicit such a visceral reaction, something more is required: Injustice. Harm inflicted upon the innocent and kind is what squeezed at the hearts of those who have gone to see the 2024 film White Bird: A Wonder Story—a sequel to the 2017 film Wonder. A story that may seem on the surface acrimonious is in fact a beautiful depiction of kindness and its capabilities in the face of hardship.
From the title to the end credits, the film relies on the motif of the “white bird,” symbolic of comfort, purity, and peace, whilst war and hatred seek to consume everyone and everything around it. The white bird provides comfort not only for the audience but also for Sara Blum (Ariella Glaser), a young Jewish girl struggling to stay afloat as her beloved hometown in France becomes infiltrated by Nazi soldiers. Forced to flee her home, her family, and all the comfort she has ever known, the white bird is the only thing to console her in the icy solitude of the woods. Sara’s white bird, however, is not just an image, but the young boy Julien Beaumier, who despite being subjected to brutal affronts every day at school, retains a glimmering kindness in his heart. He hides Sara in his barn, threatening his own life in the process every day.
But perhaps what appeals to the audience most is the reason why this story is being told. In the film’s “present day,” Sara is an elderly woman, portrayed by Helen Mirren, revealing her heart-breaking story to her grandson, Julian Albans, in an attempt to make him understand that being kind is the most courageous thing anyone can attempt. As Julian learns about the courage and kindness of his namesake, we sit along with him, helpless to do anything but listen to the horrors inflicted upon Julien Beaumier, an innocent child just trying to do the right thing.
Sara, as a narrator, allows us to view Julien Beaumier through her eyes as he transforms from what the film describes as “the pathetic, crippled” boy at school, to the person she admires most in the world. He demonstrates kindness as something that isn’t weak or passive, but instead something difficult and powerful. Orlando Schwerdt’s portrayal of Julien is aptly complex, exemplifying sincerity that is at no point excessive. His presence is magnetic, compelling every person watching to get hopelessly attached. He is the white bird in the darkness of the war. It makes his unceremonious murder all the more guttural. Without even watching it occur, a gunshot was all that was needed to fill every eye in the theatre with tears. It wasn’t just a life being taken, but a speck of kindness snuffed out by hate.
The story itself deserves applause as each of its characters—even the ones that epitomize kindness—are multi-dimensional. Sara Blum begins as a selfish, inconsiderate bystander with little regard or understanding and grows to care for others. Julian Albans, expelled from his previous school for bullying another student, embodies apathy; he just wants to exist without any regard for others. Even Julien Beaumier has moments of frustration and anger, taken out on others. That is what makes the film so compelling; kindness isn’t easy. It is a choice that requires sacrifice.
As the tear tracks on your face are harshly illuminated by the theatre’s lights, you remember Julien Beaumier and Sara’s advice to Julian: “You might forget many things in your life, but you never forget kindness. Like love, it stays with you…forever.” The moments of kindness that Sara was offered allowed her to carry kindness forward to Julian, now. It can be difficult to see the light of kindness outside of a world of darkness; that is what Sara’s story reveals to the audience. Even if the impact cannot be observed, an act of kindness can send an immeasurable ripple through someone’s life.
