The Thing With Feathers is an adaptation of Max Porter’s book Grief Is the Thing with Feathers. It centers on “Dad,” a man who is harassed by a giant, sentient crow following the unexpected death of his wife. While offering some thoughtful messages on the role grief plays in our lives—both for better and for worse—the movie likewise comes with some dark spiritual content, blood-soaked violence and a lot of language.
It comes and goes as it pleases.
It visits “Dad” when he’s in the shower, when he’s at the store, when he’s sketching illustrations for his story.
It comes most often in the middle of the night, when Dad’s thoughts turn to his wife.
The massive entity called Crow (a name that aptly describes its appearance).
“There he is, sad dad,” Crow mocks. “She’s gone. I’m here. I’ll give you something to think about.”
Crow caws insults at Dad. It refuses to allow him to forget his wife. It forces him to remember her. Dad refuses to believe Crow is real. Crow chides him all the same.
The boys can see Crow, too, though Crow is kinder in its methods to them. They understand that Mom is gone, but Crow knows they don’t have nearly as many memories of her.
Nevertheless, the family wishes Crow would leave them alone.
“You don’t get to say how this goes anymore,” Crow says. “I won’t leave until you don’t need me anymore.”
The Thing With Feathers focuses on grief and its role within our lives.
Crow is representative of grief, and like grief, Crow’s presence becomes more felt the longer Dad pretends it doesn’t exist. (Crow warns Dad that to ignore its presence in his life would be to invite other, crueler entities in—more on that in our Spiritual Elements section.) But when Dad begins to follow Crow’s instructions, he finds small moments of peace amidst his pain. Crow offers comfort to the man in a variety of ways, it would seem, such that Dad begins to grow fond of having the creature around. Dad learns to live with the bird in his life—in part because the grief of losing a loved one never truly vanishes, in part because that small pain in our hearts can remind us of the good memories we made with that person.
Crow forces Dad to grapple with other complex emotions that have bubbled up as a result of grief: Dad deals with feelings of anger at his wife for passing away and feelings of worry that he’s failing as a father to his kids (as compared to his wife). Crow warns Dad that he is slipping from healing grief into self-destructive despair, and in doing so, he will allow his home and children to fall into ruin.
Crow likewise works with the young boys. He’s much kinder to them, since they don’t have as many memories of their mom to grieve. But he nevertheless guides them through their grief through a handful of games. One such game forces the children to understand that their mother is not coming back home. But Crow reminds them that they can remember her through the fragmented memories they do have.
The movie depicts how grief can change us: The boys comment on how Dad isn’t like how they remember him. And though they occasionally see the “old Dad,” grief often causes him to slip back into bitterness. The kids likewise notice how they’ve changed, too.
Dad is haunted by different entities who act as representations of grief and self-destruction. Crow, the embodiment of grief, is undetectable by others around Dad (besides the kids, that is)—and the film often cuts between shots of Dad grappling with the creature and shots of him going about his daily life. But while the Crow acts as an independent entity, we also see Dad acting like the Crow—both of them saying the same sentences and cawing at times, apparently to show how grief can control us.
Crow tells the boys to each make a picture of their mom based on how they remember her. It promises to bring their mom back to life, using whichever depiction is most accurate. This is a lie: When the boys ask Crow to bring their mom back, Crow admits that he can’t, since she is dead.
Crow tells Dad that his wife is not a ghost—rather, with his wife gone, Dad has become the ghost now.
One of the boys says that he hopes they won’t get visited by a demon. Later, they do—one that Crow says feasts on the despair of the saddest people. When the demon (the aforementioned self-destructive entity) appears, it attempts to trick Dad into letting it into the house, since it can only feast if those in despair allow it to. It pretends to be a variety of people to convince Dad to allow it inside, including his deceased wife. In its true form, the demon looks somewhat like a satyr without horns.
A list describes the things Crow is scared of, including “Catholics.” Dad reads a children’s story involving Baba Yaga (a supernatural being from Slavic folklore). When a grief counselor asks if they’ve tried meditation, the boys jokingly hum “ohm.” We hear the Christmas hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter” play in the background of a scene.
We see Dad from the chest up as he showers.
Demon drags Dad through the house and shoves him through the floor and ceiling. It bites into Dad and digs its nails deep into his entrails, sending blood everywhere. (This is all a representation of what’s going on inside Dad’s head; these mortal wounds do not ultimately injure Dad).
Crow beats Demon with a cricket bat and stabs the creature through the head with its beak—and Demon stabs Crow. Crow holds Demon’s entrails in the air, and both entities bleed heavily.
Crow also thrashes Dad around the room, beating him bloody.
Dad remembers how he discovered his wife’s dead body: Crow explains she bled to death after she “bust her skull in” from a fall. In the memory, we see his wife’s blood pour from her head into a cross-like shape.
A crow (not the entity) launches itself at Dad’s window, startling him and causing him to accidentally cut his finger. A boy suffers some scrapes and bruises. While engaged in fantasy play, the boy shouts out that they should “shut the gate, kill [the Crow] and drown him in blood.”
Dad yells out that he wishes he was dead. A boy lashes out in anger and smacks Dad.
We hear the f-word around 20 times, including one instance preceded by “mother.” The s-word is used three times. We also hear “h—,” “p-ss,” “bloody” and “bugger.” God’s name is used in vain five times.
Dad smokes self-rolled cigarettes and drinks liquor and beer. At one point, he drinks until inebriation.
Crow, who is the embodiment of grief, arrives despite Dad’s objections and remains in his home, mocking and taunting him. Crow’s “therapy” often involves cruel words—meant to force Dad to process the passing of his wife, but cruel all the same.
One of the boys wets the bed when he first sees Crow.
In one scene, under Crow’s influence, Dad dances in a “primal” jerking manner, which Crow claims is a part of its healing process.
As Dad, laying apathetically in bed, watches Crow descend downstairs to begin speaking with the boys, he calls after the creature: “Be kind to them.”
“Naturally.” Crow replies.
Grief brings pain, but to feel grief after loss is a kindness. It helps us to remember the love we have for the people who are no longer with us. Grief is a natural process—and though it can feel cruel at times, it ultimately has kind intentions.
Such is the strange, almost paradoxical idea explored in The Thing With Feathers. Grief can be cruel; it can kick us while we’re down and jab at our weak spots. Grief comes and goes when it pleases. It takes up residence in our homes and assails us with punishment for days or even weeks. It leaves just as quickly—before rushing in to tackle us while we’re in the supermarket, or making dinner, or sorting through our thoughts in bed.
But despite the pain, grief forces us to grow: It helps us to heal. We may even feel a level of fondness toward grief for the cathartic process it put us through.
For Christians, though we look forward to the day when grief is a thing of the past—when the Lord Himself wipes away our tears (Revelation 21)—grief still has its place in our fallen world. Scripture comforts us, telling us that there is a time for both joy and grief (Ecclesiastes 3:4). Jesus, the Creator of all things, who would raise his friend from the dead only moments later, nevertheless wept for the death of Lazarus (John 11:17-44).
The Thing With Feathers doesn’t dive into the theology behind death. Crow—and even the later entity, Demon—is merely a representation of those raw emotions that come with loss. One pecks at us to heal; one consumes us to destroy. Still, viewers will want to consider the spiritual aspects presented in the film before choosing to watch it. Likewise, some moments of intense violence, and many instances of crude language, are reasons to grieve a cleaner experience.
Kennedy Unthank studied journalism at the University of Missouri. He knew he wanted to write for a living when he won a contest for “best fantasy story” while in the 4th grade. What he didn’t know at the time, however, was that he was the only person to submit a story. Regardless, the seed was planted. Kennedy collects and plays board games in his free time, and he loves to talk about biblical apologetics. He’s also an avid cook. He thinks the ending of Lost “wasn’t that bad.”
