The literary world missed the memo: I’m supposed to be famous by now. 

But aren’t we all? 

The first ingredient for seeking fame while pursuing a fine art is a healthy ego. It is only after an artist becomes famous and successful that they can fake humility. Until then, we’re all scratching and clawing at the walls, trying to be noticed.

And stupendous talent isn’t always a prerequisite for success in the arts. Sure, there needs to be a basic awareness of craft, as well as some innate ability, but the most talented artists aren’t always the most successful or famous. 

I’m not talking about myself, of course. 

With age comes the recognition of our limitations, and there is a reason that I’m hacking out columns while drinking a beer in my basement and not working on my next novel while sipping a fine chardonnay in my chalet.

Instead, I’m talking about the musician Ike Reilly, who fronts a band called The Ike Reilly Assassination. 

In August, directors Michael O’Brien and Mike Schmeideler released a documentary film on Reilly titled “Don’t Turn Your Back on Friday Night.” The film is a refreshing reminder that not all prodigiously talented artists attain worldwide fame. 

I was first introduced to Ike Reilly in Steve Almond’s 2010 book “Rock and Roll Will Save Life.” As a fan of Reilly’s music, I had arrived late to the game. By 2010, Reilly had already released more than a half dozen albums, all except one record released on an independent label called Rock Ridge Music. 

A former gravedigger and hotel doorman, Reilly has lived his entire life in the same town north of Chicago named Libertyville, Ill.—which also happens to be Marlon Brando’s hometown. The documentary captures a lot of Reilly’s backstory, from marrying his high school sweetheart and raising a family, to his decision to give the rock n’ roll life a twirl in his 30s.

Reilly’s first album “Salesman and Racists” was supposed to set the music industry ablaze in 2001, and Universal Records offered Riley a large advance. The album was critically-acclaimed, and to this day, “Salesman and Racists” remains one of those rare albums where I won’t skip a track.

But for some reason—there is a lot of conjecture in the film, including the inability to neatly package Reilly’s music for a specific demographic—it never happened.

The documentary, however, is about far more than a promising rock star who never lived up to the hype and expectations set by the music industry. It’s about how Reilly refused to sell out and continues to create great music on his own terms, in spite of everything. It’s about how Reilly reconciled with his own demons and double-downed on his family. 

Aside from being a compelling story, “Don’t Turn Your Back on Saturday Night” also contains some dynamite tunes. If you’re not familiar with Ike Reilly’s work, this is a good place to start. Many of his relative hits (or my favorite songs)are featured in the film, including the title song, “Commie Drives a Nova,” “I Will Let You Down,” “Garbage Day” and “Born on Fire.”

Steve Almond poignantly describes Reilly’s music in his book: “[Ike Reilly] sounded like Dylan, if Dylan had been Irish instead of Jewish and never left the Midwest and had grown up listening to the Clash rather than Woody Guthrie.”  

Most of all, Ike Reilly is a storyteller and a poet, and any time you find a storyteller and a poet who also makes beautiful music, it is a gift indeed. 

So who cares if they never get really famous? To use a platitude, it is all about the art. 

White Bird, 2024.

Directed by Marc Forster.
Starring Ariella Glaser, Orlando Schwerdt, Bryce Gheisar, Gillian Anderson, Helen Mirren, Jo Stone-Fewings, Patsy Ferran, Stuart McQuarrie, Olivia Ross, Ishai Golan, Nadine Leon Gobet, John Bubniak, Jim High, Philip Lenkowsky, James Beaumont, Teagan Stark, Priya Ghotane, Yelisey Kazakevich, Jem Matthews, Sam Talacko, Timon McLean, Selma Kaymakci, Lily Huong Mac, Adam Bakule, Anise Napoleao dos Reis, Jordan Cramond, and Laura Hudečková.

SYNOPSIS:

Struggling to fit in at his new school after being expelled for his treatment of Auggie Pullman, Julian is visited by his grandmother and is transformed by the story of her attempts to escape Nazi-occupied France during World War II.

Thankfully retitled to just White Bird rather than the initial clunky title misleading viewers into believing that this is a spinoff story to 2017’s moving Wonder (starring Owen Wilson, Julia Roberts, and Jacob Tremblay), director Marc Forster (working with screenwriter Mark Bomback and adapting the novel from R.J. Palacio, who also wrote Wonder) tells a bloated but riveting and emotionally impactful Holocaust drama/romance about being othered and the importance of kindness, wrapped up in a modern-day framing device attempting to get the point across that such positivity and niceness is something that has to be learned and instilled into others.

Julian Albans (Bryce Gheisar) has recently been transferred to a different school, yet he struggles with being nice. He dismisses a girl soliciting him to join a social justice program and is generally disinterested in making friends. After returning home, he finds his Jewish grandmother Sara (Helen Mirren) there as his parents are at a soirée. She reveals that he was expelled from the previous school and implies that he needs to change his tune. Thus begins a lengthy childhood story dating back to World War II in France, just before its Nazi occupation.

Now played by Ariella Glaser, Sara is a young girl without much to worry about, admitting that she lived and mostly spoiled life until the Nazi invasion. This also means that she never made much of an effort to stand up to her friends for bullying Julien Beaumier (Orlando Schwerdt), a young boy with polio walking on crutches. While the other boys give her cruel, backhanded remarks that her sketches are “good for a Jew,” he is nothing but polite and nice, carrying himself with dignity surrounded by misinformed and nasty rumors and insults. Once Nazi Germany begins to invade, Sara is tragically separated from her parents (forced to flee friends) and a schoolteacher desperately attempting to keep her safe, eventually winding up taken in by Julien and his parents following a suspenseful cat and mouse in some wintry woods. They hide her in a sizable barn, committed to nurturing her with whatever she needs.

It’s also here where these two teens, othered by society for different reasons, start bonding while tapping into the power of a limitless imagination as freedom. Although the CGI and special effects are rough, it is admirable that the filmmakers try to bring that fantasy to life, such as when Sara and Julien imagine exploring Paris and New York. Julien continues to express impressed feelings toward Sara’s art while her misconceptions of his disability gradually disappear until she only sees him for his bravery and generosity. Seeing how that instills more confidence in Julien is also sweet and moving.

There is also an unexpected darkness to White Bird. Granted, perhaps that should be expected considering the film is grappling with the Holocaust, but for a somewhat family-friendly story preaching kindness, this narrative does not hold back on the danger and disturbing actions of the Nazis. As a result, parts of the film are heartwrenching, reaching an unflinchingly bleak depiction of reality.

As Julian listens to this longwinded story that takes all day for Sara (the occasional interlude of them conversing is generally further shrouded in evening darkness), one is somewhat surprised he hasn’t cut off his grandmother and asked if he can go play video games yet. That’s not a knock on the narrative, but more general surprise that the kid has lasted this long hanging on every word in suspense. It’s less of a spoiler and more common sense that Julian chooses kindness by following this story of treating others with acceptance and respect, but since there is so little happening between him and grandmother Sara, it doesn’t feel fully earned. With that said, the message and intent are enough to make up for that. It also helps to have that call to action be delivered by a legend such as Helen Mirren.

Even the more overcranked melodramatic beats between young Sara and Julien work since they are grounded in character and become focal points of conversation. There isn’t a sense that White Bird is dumbing anything down for its audience or trying to protect them from harsh realities, which is also a bold move for something that also feels targeted at young children who are old and mature enough to engage with harrowing Holocaust material. The film is as long-winded as the storytime, but a cumulative emotional punch and necessary message override some of its flaws.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist