Andrea Arnold makes movies in communities she looks after, ones she protects partly because she has also been part of them. With Bird, she invites a total stranger in—you rarely look to Franz Rogowski to disappear into a crowd, but he plays the eponymous character with a tender mystery that gives both the British director a new level of poetry and even magical realism to explore, and the German actor yet another standout Cannes moment for the history books. “Has Franz Rogowski ever looked more beautiful?” Iana wonders. “Loved the sincerity, the strangeness, the love. So happy Andrea Arnold is back.”

Rogowski brought his mother to the festival this year, after sitting on the 2023 Critics Week jury and starring in previous Cannes lineups including Great Freedom and Michael Haneke’s Happy End (more on that one soon). The actor tells me that after the premiere of Bird, which is competing for the Palme d’Or as part of the Official Selection, his mother was “so kind and excited” in a way that surprised him. “She really turns into the best version of herself at festivals,” he says. “I’ve never seen her this happy and polite—she’s almost British.”

Bird throws Rogowski into the British suburbs (near Dartford, director Arnold’s birthplace, to be precise) as his orbit enters that of twelve-year-old Bailey (breakout star Nykiya Adams) while she aims to both take care of and take flight away from her fractured, dysfunctional family. On one side, there’s her young dad Bug (Barry Keoghan on best form, his character defined by a playlist ranging from Fontaines D.C. to Blur to Coldplay) and teen brother, with Bug’s wedding to his girlfriend of three months coming up. On the other, there’s her mother Peyton (Jasmine Jobson) and little siblings wriggling around in bunk beds, living in the dangerous shadows of Peyton’s abusive boyfriend.

The warm yet frank realism that permeates Arnold’s work and allows her to document life on the fringes is potent, but there’s something dreamier here as well—and so much of that is Rogowski. The actor lifts the curtain on just a couple of secrets while on the Croisette, starting with tears, ending with tea, and leaving it all in the air. 

Let’s talk more about Andrea’s images—which ones feel like the heart of the movie to you?
For me, the movie is the tip of the iceberg. We’ve created so much material that is not in the movie, and I see all of it when I watch it. For example, the house that Bailey lived in is built upon pictures from Andrea’s childhood. These are rooms that she lived in as a child, and she took care of other children. It’s not just a fictional story—it was autobiographical.

Part of the film was shot in Dartford, where Andrea was born and it’s near where I live—I see it all when watching it. How did it feel for you to enter these worlds that Andrea knows so well, but which Bird does not belong to at all? She always films communities that fit and, this is a compliment, you don’t.
It’s liberating, and at the same time, you also want to belong. You want to be a part of this world. I knew from the start that she doesn’t want me to overcome the strangeness of this character, not being attached to the realism that she works with. That was very liberating. She also never sent me the scenes or the script, so I could not prepare or worry too much about the strangeness of me in a skirt surrounded by her universe.

Which process, not necessarily one or the other that you’ve mentioned but generally, feels most instinctive for you as an actor?
The thing for me is to work very closely with the director, and get to know each other on set to a degree where we don’t need to talk much in order to understand what we’re looking for, to go on a treasure hunt. And then I do my thing, and they do their thing. But we are always there for each other. We know we can count on each other. That’s a beautiful relationship to have, and it’s also a weird one because you’re strangers, but then all of a sudden, you’re married. I love that. I often feel like I’m a horse and I just need a plough and then I want to work the field. Or a dog. I just want to run for the stick. But somebody needs to throw it.

What was it like to plough the fields of England specifically? Andrea Arnold is, I think, our greatest British filmmaker and this was your first time making such a British movie. How did that affect you in comparison to the work you’ve done with so many fantastic European filmmakers?
I am German, so the amount of apologies I was exposed to while making this movie was extraordinary. I find it fascinating and also beautiful. Germans can come across as rude and a little bit offensive, but I guess we need a direct impact in order to feel something. We need confrontation and exchange.

I our producer being so apologetic all day. It was really funny, so I asked him to be rude to me in the morning because that’s what I need: to not be so kind, to not ask so many questions about how I feel and how I am. Because I’m German, I feel guilty when I wake up and I need a coffee before I can answer any questions. So then he started saying something rude to me every morning, and I felt at home. I can’t recommend the German directness. It has to do with a lot of guilt and World War II and all kinds of things you’d rather overcome. I really want to drink more tea and be more empathetic.