BIRDMAN Is Incredible & It Makes Me Feel Bad Writing About It

Michael Keaton is one of those “If only he was given a chance, he could have done great things” type of guys. Edward Norton is one of those “If he could just suck it up and take other people’s advice he could be one of the biggest stars in the world” type of guys. This is no secret to us and it is certainly no secret to Alejandro González Iñárritu, who takes full advantage of our outside knowledge to create the only slightly twisted reality of Birdman. Taking these actors and having them play exaggerated versions of themselves is a great idea that was sure to garner attention in the media, but that is not enough to prop up an entire film.

Luckily, Iñárritu recognizes that the novelty of this idea fades quickly and makes sure to dazzle us with the non-stop, free-flowing story that is appropriately accompanied by the minimalist score of a frenetic jazz percussionist. Just like the drummer, Birdman always makes us feel like it has no idea where it is going, but in the end you realize that it is so fine-tuned that it was just tricking you into believing that was the case. It is so calculatedly bold. So incredibly unique. It is a hilarious satire of the modern movie landscape and a very personal story of self-acceptance. And it is the leader in the clubhouse for the best film of 2014 by a wide margin.

That Little Voice in Your Head

In Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Michael Keaton plays Riggan Thomsan, a Hollywood has-been looking to resurrect his career by writing, directing, and starring in a re-telling of Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” on Broadway. Riggan has thrown what little money he has left from his stint as blockbuster favorite Birdman at the play, viewing this as his last opportunity to legitimize his career and, in his mind, his existence. He wants to be remembered for something, anything, other than the Birdman series. But no matter where he goes, his superhero alter-ego follows him around in the form of a voice in his head reminding him how awful his life has been since he left the superhero industry. “People, they love blood,” Birdman says to Riggan, “They love action. Not this talky, philosophical, depressing bullshit.”

If you know anything about Iñárritu’s previous work, you know he has a tendency to delve into the area of talky, philosophical, depressing films (and, yes, sometimes they are bullshit—infinite sadness does not a deep movie make). Fortunately, the director has found another side of himself that takes the existential troubles we all have and actually shows that we can change for the better and find ourselves, even if the path there is fraught with missteps.

As the play’s opening night quickly approaches, Riggan must find a replacement for an actor who was “accidentally” hit by a huge light hanging over the stage. I say accidentally because this is the first of several instances where Riggan goes into Birdman mode and claims he willfully moves objects telekinetically. In this case, he wanted to get rid of the hack actor who managed to slip through the auditions.

This means that the play needs a replacement. Perhaps a big name Hollywood actor? Woody Harrelson? “He’s doing the next Hunger Games, ” Riggan’s agent (played by an effectively subdued Zack Galifianakis) explains. Michael Fassbender? “He’s doing the prequel to the X-Men prequel.” The list goes on and on. Instead, lauded Broadway performer Mike Shiner is brought on.

Shiner is played by Edward Norton, whose performance is every bit as fantastic as the incredible one Keaton puts on. Keaton is (deservedly) the early favorite for the Best Actor Oscar. The most impressively performed scene in the film is Norton’s very first where he transforms from a pretentious asshole into the best stage actor you have ever seen in the blink of an eye. A great actor playing a great actor is something that I imagine is extremely difficult. Think about it: while he is already using his abilities to play a different person, he must transform into a person playing a different person with the same abilities Norton uses to capture that actor in the first place. Christopher Nolan would be proud of that nesting doll acting. An actor inside an actor inside an actor….

Not Just a Gimmick

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of Birdman is it audacious use of cinematography. Emmanuel Lubezki makes almost the entire film feel like one continuous take. The camera is almost never still and is not afraid to change directions if someone interesting passes by. The film does not take place in real-time, but even the passage of time is shot to look like a continuation of the film’s single, long take. The writing, the score, and the cinematography all blend together perfectly to create this absurd manic quality that is omnipresent in Birdman. The shooting style of the film alone is enough to make it interesting, but everything else is just as good.

Birdman is also funny as hell. The back-and-forth between Keaton and Norton, the self-referential and self-deprecating Birdman occasionally whispering in Keaton’s ear, it all works. Birdman never fails to accomplish the goals it tries to achieve. It deftly captures the issues of personal identity and our desire to leave a mark on the world. In his quest to become respected as a real artist, Riggan has lost control of the world around him.

It is only when he accepts that the Birdman inside of him deserves recognition that he is able to reach a high both on stage and in the lives of his daughter (Emma Stone), ex-wife (Amy Ryan), and fellow performers. He begins to accept the advice of the voice inside his head. It is both the beginning of a mental breakdown and a period of enlightenment. He just needs one more hit of his old pal Birdman before he can finally kick the habit. This is what I call Keaton going “full-Birdman”.

It is at this point that the film gets gloriously weird. At the snap of his fingers cars explode, a giant meteor crashes into a skyscraper, a giant metal bird screeches at our superhero. He embraces his past before the first show. At that show, he finally rids himself of the voice in his head with what the play’s critics call a performance of hyper-realism on stage with a violent metaphor that isn’t difficult to interpret in a scene that immediately brings to mind the endings of Black Swan and The Wrestler.

“A Thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing”

This phrase is scribbled on a note card in the corner of Riggan’s vanity mirror in his dressing room. It is a phrase that makes me feel a little strange writing about Birdman. The experience of film is not the thoughts you spew out afterwards. Rather, it is what you feel as you go through. When you write about something, a film loses it fluidity; becomes rigid. I love writing about movies. I love having a voice. But Birdman shows that people who write about the work of others need to take things for what they are sometimes and viewers need to leave the words of others out of it.

Birdman’s most obvious antagonist is a stage critic (Lindsay Duncan) who has promised to bury Riggan’s play because she feels that, given his superhero past, Riggan has no right to perform on Broadway. This pre-judgment is common when people review things; I know I have a hard time with it sometimes. So don’t take my word for it, because my word is in no way an interpretation that you should consider when you decide to see Birdman. Take Birdman for what it is. And I hope you think it is as fun, meaningful, poignant, and smart as I do.

Conclusion

This fall is chock-full of tremendous movie-going options. But if you see one film this season, make it Birdman. It is equal parts funny, crazy, manic, beautiful, honest, and heartfelt. Every performer is great and the cinematography alone is worth giving Birdman a shot. It is a wholly original work that is wonderfully imagined and flawlessly executed. Alejandro González Iñárritu has created something that I wouldn’t have thought him capable of: a fun experience. And the last shot of the film is one that will have its meaning debated about for years and years to come. I guess you could call it the best anti-superhero film of all-time. Or you could just stop talking about it and let the experience wash over you.

What did you think of Birdman? Does it deserve to be considered for any Oscars?

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