The visceral experience of loss is rarely captured with precision on screen, often falling into the traps of sentimentality or sterile melodrama. However, Benedict Cumberbatch’s Esa cosa con alas (2025) attempts something far more daring: a surrealist exploration of the wreckage left behind after a family is shattered by death. While the film has struggled to find favor with professional critics, it emerges as a profound study of resilience that rewards viewers willing to embrace its eccentricities.
Based on the acclaimed novel Grief is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter, the film follows a widower and his two young sons as they navigate the suffocating silence of a home devoid of a mother. The narrative is not a linear progression of healing, but rather a fragmented journey through the stages of bereavement, punctuated by the arrival of a chaotic, abrasive, and ultimately essential companion: a crow.
Now available for streaming on Movistar Plus and select regions via Netflix, the film offers a second chance for a project that largely vanished during its limited theatrical run. Despite a polarizing reception—highlighted by a Rotten Tomatoes score of 46%—the movie functions as a poignant reminder that the path to recovery is rarely tidy and often absurd.
Translating the Poetics of Pain
Adapting Max Porter’s original text presented a significant challenge for director Dylan Southern. Porter’s writing oscillates between traditional prose and a rhythmic, almost magnetic poetry, creating a sensory experience that mimics the erratic nature of grief. Southern translates this to the screen by utilizing shifting tones, occasionally leaning into elements of psychological horror to illustrate the oppressive weight of depression.
The film’s emotional core is anchored by a specific, haunting detail from the source material: the discovery of the deceased mother’s stray hairs. In the story, these small, annoying remnants of a human life become powerful relics—proof of existence and anchors for a father desperate to hold onto something tangible. This focus on the minutiae of loss transforms the domestic space into a minefield of memory, where a simple household chore can trigger a total emotional collapse.
The Crow: A Macabre Guide to Healing
The most contentious element of the film is undoubtedly the Crow. Far from a whimsical fantasy creature, this entity is depicted as a “macabre Mary Poppins”—a figure who is simultaneously an irritant and a savior. The Crow serves multiple roles for the grieving family: a punching bag for the father’s redirected rage, a confidant for the children’s confusion, and a mirror reflecting the family’s deepest fears.
By introducing this surreal element, Southern avoids the clichés of the “grief movie.” The Crow does not offer easy answers or a quick cure; instead, it forces the characters to confront their pain in its rawest form. This allegorical approach allows the film to explore the intersection of fantasy and reality, suggesting that when the pain of the real world becomes unbearable, the mind creates its own strange mechanisms for survival.
Cumberbatch as the Anchor of Loss
The success of the film rests heavily on the shoulders of Benedict Cumberbatch. Tasked with portraying a man drowning in uncertainty and paternal anxiety, Cumberbatch delivers a performance of restrained intensity. He captures the specific exhaustion of a parent who must remain a pillar of strength for his children while privately disintegrating.
Cumberbatch avoids the temptation to overplay the tragedy, instead opting for a performance grounded in silence and subtle gestures. His chemistry with the child actors provides the film’s most genuine moments, grounding the surrealist elements in a believable family dynamic. Without this authoritative yet vulnerable center, the film’s more experimental flourishes might have felt untethered.
Resilience and the Emily Dickinson Connection
The film derives its title and philosophy from Emily Dickinson’s famous poem, “Hope is the thing with feathers.” This connection serves as the thematic backbone of the story, framing hope not as a shimmering light, but as a persistent, fluttering thing that refuses to leave, even in the darkest circumstances.
While the pacing occasionally falters and the narrative structure can feel disjointed, these imperfections mirror the subject matter itself. Grief is not a polished narrative; it is a series of setbacks and sudden breakthroughs. By refusing to provide a traditionally “neat” ending, Esa cosa con alas offers a more honest depiction of resilience—one that acknowledges that while the pain may change, the scar remains.
The film stands as a testament to the idea that neither the highest joys nor the deepest sorrows are eternal. It is a difficult watch, but a necessary one for those who prefer their cinema to challenge them rather than comfort them.
Viewers can now find the film on Movistar Plus, where it remains a hidden gem for those seeking an unconventional cinematic experience. As more audiences discover the film via streaming, it may eventually find the critical reappraisal its ambition deserves.
We want to hear your thoughts on this adaptation. Does the surrealist approach to grief work for you, or do you prefer a more traditional narrative? Share your views in the comments below.
