Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Penguin Bloom’ on Netflix, a Melodrama in Which a Magpie Named Penguin Lifts Naomi Watts’ Spirits

Netflix’s Penguin Bloom is a new BOATS flick (y’know, Based On A True Story) starring Naomi Watts as Sam Bloom, an Australian woman who befriended an orphaned magpie while convalescing from a traumatic injury. Sam’s story became a book co-written by her husband, and now it’s a movie that might just squawk and peck its way into our hearts.

PENGUIN BLOOM: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: “Mom loves the ocean,” a boy narrates. “But then last year happened.” The Bloom family was vacationing in Thailand when Sam (Watts) leaned on a railing which gave way, then tumbled to the ground. The scene is remembered in flashback shards scattered throughout the first act — a scream, blood, an ambulance, joy one moment and horror the next. The Blooms live not far from the Australian shore where they used to surf and have footraces on the beach. The house has wide-open spaces where three young brothers tumble and clamber and roll on skateboards as their trooper of a dad, Cameron (Andrew Lincoln), just seems to roll with it. It’s a cluttered and chaotic life, and all Sam can do is listen to it, flat on her back in bed. Cameron helps her into a wheelchair, opens the curtains and shuttles the boys out. She closes the curtains and sits in the dark until her mother (Jacki Weaver) arrives and opens them again.

One day, the boys find a magpie chick, alone and vulnerable on the ground. It seems to have tumbled from a high place, like Sam, and abandoned, maybe like Sam feels sometimes. The boys make a bed in a cardboard box, dig up worms to feed it, name it Penguin. The bird can stay until it’s time for it to fly free, she reluctantly agrees. She’s home alone one morning, lying there, listening to that damn bird squawk. Leave it to a magpie to ruin a good depressive stew. She summons the strength to get herself in the wheelchair and be charmed by Penguin’s cutesy antics — stepping on the buttons of a remote-control car, knocking over the plants, befriending a stuffed monkey, getting upset when Sam lashes out at the photo collection of her and the boys doing all kinds of fun outdoorsy stuff. She throws a rock, wields a broomstick. There’s glass everywhere. Penguin is all ruffled. Cameron scoots the boys out and offers his wife some support and starts cleaning up.

Penguin, notably, needs flying lessons, but nobody’s properly equipped for the job. You can sense Sam’s growing affection for the bird as it keeps her company, perches on her shoulder or head. She encourages Penguin to fly, but it doesn’t happen until the film’s inspiration levels dip to an upsetting level. Sam soon agrees to finally go out for lunch with her mom and sister (Leeanna Walsman). She starts joining Cameron and the boys for an outing or two, and where the family goes, Penguin goes. Cameron presses a brochure for kayaking lessons into her hand. Her first reaction is pessimistic, but she relents. Gaye (Rachel House) is her instructor, and apparently a therapist too, because she knows the right words to say and the right tone to strike. The sunlight starts feeling good on Sam’s face once again and the boys wear their matching fuzzy-bear onesies and play on the roof and one of these days, probably soon, Penguin will have to leave this nest.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: There’s a little bit of Watts’ powerful The Impossible performance in this film, and bits of inspirational-animal movies a la Whale Rider or Dolphin Tale.

Performance Worth Watching: If you need someone to elevate the material, you could do far, far worse than Watts, who turns a rote character arc into something believably messy and complicated. She thankfully has enough space to give a nuanced nonverbal performance in which we sense Sam mourning the loss of her athletic and highly active self, and understand why she avoids the dispiriting company of friends who offer support but unwittingly patronize and feel sorry for her.

She doesn’t want to face herself. She also doesn’t want to face others and their patronizing tones, doesn’t want others to feel sorry for her

Memorable Dialogue: Sam’s dotty old mother says the quiet part loud, and not at all in the parlance of our times, much to everyone’s embarrassment: “You’re not a spastic, no one thinks that,” she says as Sam’s jaw drops.

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Penguin is, of course, a symbolic/metaphoric representation of love, freedom, loneliness, growth, the inevitability of the world to keep turning regardless of one’s physical challenges and psychological stagnation. Some will find Penguin cute, profound or inspirational. I only see the overwhelming indifference of nature; there is no such thing as the secret world of the magpies; in its eyes I only see a half-bored interest in food. I might say the same of Free Willy or Flipper or Benji or Bonzo, maybe even the cat from outer space. I digress, but not really — I love animals immensely, but I cannot abide anthropomorphic woo-woo, and the film has just enough of it to threaten its credibility.

So Penguin Bloom is very much a movie of its ilk, a melodrama that’s heavy of hand in the allegory dept., but not all such movies have Naomi Watts present to clean up its cliches. The subtext courses with if-you-love-something-set-it-free stuff, but to its credit, and thanks to Watts, the movie isn’t always so tidy or relentlessly written, occasionally teetering into naturalism in the way we get to observe the boys’ tumult, or enjoy the occasional depiction of the reality of a loose bird flying about the house and leaving behind loose poos. Thankfully, we do not get a scene in which Mommy’s wheelchair falls down a well and Penguin calls others to her aid, but one scene is remarkably too close for comfort.

Understanding that the movie is BOATS should either soften us to its hopeful messaging or ponder if the real Sam Bloom’s story deserves to be a least a little bit more than a checklist of melodramatic tropes: a sullen Sam lashing out, the oldest boy blaming himself for the accident, a score of mournful piano and cello, cutesy animal hijinks, a third-act development in which the beloved bird goes missing, etc. The delightful postcard cinematography and sturdy performances mostly save it from schlockdom, with Watts bringing truth, Weaver some eccentricity and Lincoln and House earnestness. I guess what I’m trying to say is, it’s not not inspiring, but neither does it lift the spirit to new heights.

Our Call: STREAM IT. When all is said and done, fans of this type of family drama will find it perfectly watchable.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream Penguin Bloom on Netflix