A once-great artist getting one last chance to regain their
former glory is a familiar narrative on the silver screen. But Alejandro
González Iñárritu’s Birdman is not like
any such films that have come before. I’m still not sure what it is, exactly,
but one thing it’s definitely not is a genre cliché. It’s also not a superhero
picture at all, despite starring a few people who’ve played superheroes. Or
maybe it is. You’ll have to decide for yourself.
Michael Keaton stars in the movie as Riggan Thomson, a
has-been actor famous for playing a superhero called Birdman twenty years prior
to the picture (one hopes that, despite the obvious similarity to Keaton’s turn
as Batman over two decades ago, his career since has been better than his
character’s). To try to resurrect his career—or rather, to leave his most
famous character behind and gain the professional acclaim he’s always sought—Riggan
has written a play, which he’s also directing and in which he's playing the lead role on Broadway. It’s
not going well, as the preview run is beset by accidents, cost overruns,
fevered performer egos, and the fact that the general public still only
associates him with Birdman. On top of everything, he’s also grappling with an
inner voice reminding him of his former glory and predicting the play will fail.
And he also has some sort of telekinetic powers, apparently.
But that’s just on the surface. And at that surface level,
it’s a pretty entertaining and revealing look behind the scenes of a theatrical
production in semi-real time, albeit with some touches of the surreal that
build until going for broke in the final act. There’s much more going on,
however. As for what exactly that would be, that’s up to the viewer to decide.
Dig a little deeper, and the film says a lot about the
entertainment industry and culture. Some fleeting reference is made to the
recent glut of superhero movies, and it’s funny. But the film delves in short little
moments into other areas of the arts, such as the fallacy of critical or genre
snobbery (one scene where Riggan confronts
Lindsay Duncan’s snooty theater critic feels like a collective, cathartic
middle finger on behalf of all artists to every critic who's ever written a bad review), or the grandeur of considering art “important." On the
more macro level, the picture is a rather melancholy exploration of the
difference between fame and artistic respect, and how one doesn’t necessarily beget the
other. The events onscreen erase the lines between reality and fantasy, but the
pathos is very real.
Yet, in spite of that, the movie isn’t at all depressing,
but a lot of fun. For all the ambiguity of what it all means, the whole thing
plays as a very funny comedy. It’s also quite a well-casted piece of work.
Keaton guides us through the strangeness we’re witnessing like a pro. He’s
got the zeal of an artist doing their passion project, but unlike his character
who’s crashing and burning, he’s nailing it on every level. Every bit of comic
timing, every dramatic turn, and every moment where we’re not sure what’s going
on, he’s compelling. Also notable is Edward Norton as a talented but difficult actor,
with equal emphasis on both qualities. He’s the most unlikeable character in
the film, egotistical and antagonizing in many ways. But his skill is beyond
reproach; whenever it seems like he’s letting his guard down and revealing more
about the character, he does something to rebut the perception the characters (and the audience) have of him. Emma Stone has a grounded
frankness as Riggan’s daughter, representing his anchor to the real world (as
well as, perhaps, the voice of truth, or at least the public consciousness).
And Zach Galifianakis plays it
straighter than his Hangover persona,
but is hilarious as the play’s lawyer/producer.
The film is also
impressive on a technical level. In the hands of cinematographer Emmanuel
Lubezki, a recent Oscar winner for Gravity
known for lengthy unbroken shots, the movie is seamlessly shot and edited
so that most of it seems like one long take with no cuts. The result is a pace that's breathless and rousing even in the
slower moments. Between that and all the happenings onscreen to ponder, Birdman is always interesting and entirely watchable no matter how weird it gets.
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