Netflix's 'Earthquake Bird' is a slow-burn thriller with unclear motives
The following contains spoilers for Netflix's Earthquake Bird.
Earthquake Bird seems like a great movie.
It’s beautifully shot, hauntingly scored, and wonderfully acted. Alicia Vikander leads superbly, and Riley Keough and Naoki Kobayashi offer dynamic supporting performances. The 1980s Japanese setting is enticing, and nearly every scene seems fitting of an exquisitely rendered whole.
The problem here is the story, a slow-burn narrative of jealousy and betrayal that fizzles out in the final act. (Warning: Heavy spoilers to follow.)
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Earthquake Bird centers on Lucy Fly (Vikander), a stony Swedish woman living in Japan. She’s strange, stand-offish, a kind of Amy Dunne wannabe minus the snappy monologues. Lucy meets Teiji (Kobayashi), a Japanese chef and photographer, with whom she is instantly enamored. Their conversations play out like chess matches, two vexing sapiophiles as interested in uncomfortable silences as they are in banging the hell out of each other.
Enter Lily (Keough). Lily is a vibrant American expat with an affinity for astrology, karaoke, nail polish, and casual gossip. Lucy reluctantly befriends Lily at the request of a mutual friend, and soon Lucy, Lily, and Teiji find themselves in a love triangle. Then, Lily goes missing.
Earthquake Bird, told nonlinearly, opens with Lily’s disappearance and spends 90% of its runtime heavily implying Lucy is the killer. Each conversation between the two mismatched women is tense, mirroring the psychosexual discomfort perfected by Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis in Black Swan. Lily’s tousled curls and chunky earrings seems to exist in defiance of Lucy’s blunt bangs and sleek pony. A brief disagreement over the validity of palm reading is enough to send a chill up your spine.
Teiji, a stand-in for the wills of men, waffles between his attraction to Lucy and his attraction to Lily. He’s not a particularly well-developed character, defined by his romantic connections and generally cagey demeanor. His lack of loyalty is maddening, and it makes perfect sense that Lucy would murder Lily over it. In fact, Lucy admits to it during an interrogation, claiming she beat Lily to death with a brick over their mutual love of Teiji.
Well, turns out Teiji killed Lily because he’s a serial killer? Or something?
I’m not usually one for dismissing a movie over an ending, but when every beat hypes up a conclusion, it’s hard to not feel cheated by something so out of left field.
In the final act, Lucy is cleared of wrongdoing by the police. It is explained that the body officials found in a nearby river belonged to someone other than Lily, and Lucy’s confession stemmed from hating Lily so much that she wishes she’d killed her. Then, Teiji admits to killing Lily for no good reason, so Lucy kills him for no good reason, and it’s a wrap.
It’s worth noting that Earthquake Bird is an adaptation of Susanna Jones’ novel of the same name, and it may play out better in that telling. (I haven’t read it, but gather the plot hasn’t changed much.)
Still, Netflix’s take on the story is underwhelming. It’s as if they built a portrait of a fascinating female killer and then chickened out, settling into the Lifetime “men are terrifying” model instead of exploring something more dynamic.
Earthquake Bird is now streaming on Netflix.
Topics Netflix
