NR | 1h 25m | Drama | 2020
One of the most telling elements that reveal a director’s patience and the overall tone of a film is how the opening shots are structured.
If a film launches into rapid-fire cuts like some sort of spastic music video, it’s usually a sign of relentless pacing ahead. Conversely, when a director lingers on shots, letting them breathe before transitioning, a slower, more contemplative experience is likely in store.
“The Bee-eaters” (2020), directed by K.T. Bird, unfolds with deliberate grace, opening with lush, sweeping shots of the English countryside. Rolling green hills stretch beneath a sky laced with power lines, each frame composed with quiet reverence.
I often prefer to watch films without knowing much about their premise, letting the story unfold organically. That’s how I approached “The Bee-eaters,” and in its first act, everything seemed peaceful enough.
Stillness or Storm?
We meet our young protagonist, Peter (Matthew Gordon), who introduces himself in poetic prose. Sitting near a school window frame, he watches his classmates at play, his closed-off posture revealing a quiet self-imposed exile.
Peter’s world is small but serene, nestled in the rolling green of Staffordshire, England, where life moves at a gentle, measured pace. A quiet youth, Peter drifts through his days with a handful of tenuous connections. He walks 9-year-old Amy (Lily Edge) home to her mother, Greta (Stella Tahtinen); he exchanges shy glances with flirtatious fellow student Kate (Jillian Cunningham), and observes the rough-edged antics of local farm boy Joe (Kaine Zajaz).
In the mires, he meets Billy (Robin Hooper), an aging birdwatcher with a passion for the rare and elusive bird, the titular Bee-eater. Their quiet companionship offers Peter a glimpse into a world beyond his own; Peter eagerly accepts an invitation to a seasonal singing concert, a rare opportunity to step outside his routine.
Muddled Lens of Perception
This is the kind of film that lulls you into a sense of comfort with its tranquil routines and picturesque landscapes, only to quietly unnerve you when you least expect it. At first glance, Peter’s life seems simple, even idyllic, as he navigates through his small community with cautious curiosity.But as he moves through his days—exchanging pleasantries, forming fragile bonds, and making small, seemingly inconsequential choices—the cracks begin to emerge. And once they do, the cracks spread with an eerie inevitability.
What makes this drama so effective is its restraint. The cast, comprised of relatively unknown actors, delivers understated performances that feel earthy and authentic. The direction is patient, allowing the story to unravel at its own deliberate pace.
At times, things shift in unexpected ways, such as the choices Hugh makes when he realizes his son has found himself in trouble, shaping the film’s final act. Without spoiling anything, the ending refuses to tie things up neatly. There is no forced resolution, no moral neatly packaged with a bow.
Instead, viewers are left with something more haunting. “The Bee-eaters” is a meditation on the fragility of human connections and how even the smallest well-meaning actions can be misread, distorted, and weaponized.
It reminds us that justice isn’t always served in courtrooms and that the court of public opinion, with its unchecked passions, can be far more ruthless.
“The Bee-eaters” leaves the viewer with an unsettled, a cautionary tale of how perception can turn kindness into condemnation.
