Owen Gleiberman Chief Film Critic Eight years ago, the writer-director Andrea Arnold packed up her hand-held-camera brand of kitchen-sink British austerity and took it across the pond to make “American Honey,” a movie about a wolf pack of kids in a van who seemed to incarnate the tumult of the 21st century.
The movie, crafted in a style that I thought of as hip-hop Dardenne brothers, was an indie explosion that felt like a landmark.
Now, though, in “Bird,” the first dramatic feature that Arnold has made since (in between, she directed episodes of “Big Little Lies” and “Transparent” and made the documentary “Cow”), she’s back to chronicling the miserablism of aimless, scroungy British young folk who experience their lives as a dead zone.
Forgive me if I wish she hadn’t left the party so soon. For years, Arnold has been a Cannes darling, and a critics’ darling too.
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