Willy (Jorge Antonio Guerrero) is consistently on the run. At the point when we initially meet the hero of Ivan Grobivic’s outwardly momentous film Drunken Birds, he is running across the desert against a dim, precipitous foundation, seconds after his vehicle burst into flames. Left with not many choices, the young fellow, on the run from his medication cartel chief, sets off by walking, with one more of the top dog’s workers (Pedro Hernández) in close pursuit. The follower fires his weapon, intentionally missing Willy prior to asking, mockingly, “How could you figure this would end?” The implicit reply, for the infatuated man, presently stuck to the ground, is “dislike this.”Willy, fortunately, doesn’t bite the dust. All things considered, his follower — we’ll consider him a partner since we never get familiar with his name — releases him. He tells Willy, whose manager has gotten on to the illicit relationship between his better half, Marlena (Yoshira Escárrega), and Willy, to run the extent that he can and fail to remember his dalliance. What the partner doesn’t know is that Marlena and Willy, darlings isolated by situation, made a settlement to leave Mexico independently and track down one another later. In view of the etching on an accessory she gave him during their last gathering, Willy finds that she’s in Montreal with her auntie. With this data, he travels north, where he looks for some kind of employment as an occasional farmworker.
It requires some investment to conform to life on the ranch, however with the assistance of different travelers, a large portion of whom are likewise Mexican, he gets familiar with everything. Grbovic and his cinematographer and co-author, Sara Mishara, take extraordinary consideration to detail the relentless undertakings the laborers do and the easygoing closeness of their bonds. Close-up shots of the lettuce fields are mixed with scenes of the men bunched together, deftly eliminating the external layers of the romaine heads and packing them in plastic. There’s something disrupting about the excellence of the camerawork and how it delivers this stately however ruthless work in a practically fantastical and enchanting manner.
That uncanny inclination stretches out to different pieces of Drunken Birds, which intensely tries different things with the line among dream and reality. Grbovic and Mishara catch Willy’s fantasies and bad dreams, just as those of different characters, utilizing an uplifted visual language that, when joined with the capable altering, mixes consistently with the real world. The topic of what is genuine and incredible turns out to be the same amount of a piece of the film as Willy’s story.
Running close by Willy’s story is a homegrown story including the white French Canadian family that possesses the ranch. Richard (Claude Legault) is viewed as one of the better supervisors in the space since he gives his workers nice lodging and doesn’t terminate them at arbitrary. A low bar, to be sure. He lives in an unassuming home relatively close to the primary ranch with his disappointed spouse, Julie (Hélène Florent), and their insubordinate little girl, Léa (Marine Johnson). Julie, who’s genuinely far off, had an unsanctioned romance with one of the farmworkers the past season, a double-crossing that neither she nor Richard can talk about sincerely. Trapped in their quiet fights is their girl, who holds her instability for her mom.
By all accounts, Drunken Birds is about Willy’s mission for adoration and his new life on the homestead, however when he encounters Julie and Léa, the film transforms into a full story of white womanhood and its apparent guiltlessness. Julie meets Willy while examining the fields, and their coquettish association is brief however effective. She discovers his quality exciting, maybe a much needed reprieve from her life and cold marriage. They have a couple of more minutes like this before things on the ranch go bad. To stay away from any significant spoilers, I’ll simply say this: After Léa is up to speed in a perilous circumstance, Willy helps her. Also, she reimburses his thoughtful gesture with a lie by exclusion, passing on her dad to reach his own disagreeable inferences regarding what befell his little girl.