The film is about Riggan, a
former movie star who came to fame through his portrayal of the superhero
Birdman in the early 1990s. Now, Riggan is a washed up has-been. He is not
satisfied with his dwindling career, however, engaging in a revival by way of
writing, directing and starring in his own adaptation of a classic stage play.
With the play just days away, Riggan begins to feel overwhelmed with
everything, as the tumultuous play begins to resemble his own life and vice
versa. Meanwhile, his Birdman character begins speaking to him. At first,
Riggan just ignores this inner voice, but then he starts listening, as things
just spin out of control.
The first thing that needs to be
said about Birdman, and I would guess
Michael Keaton was
cast for this role because if the character’s similarity to his own background
(in addition to Keaton being just right for the part), is that the character of
Riggan is like an exaggerate version of Keaton, who played Batman for two films
(
Batman in
1989 and
Batman Returns
in 1992 – and really, Batman…Birdman…come on). Keaton is also known for playing
his characters on the verge of a complete mental break (sometimes over the
edge, in the case of
Beetlejuice).
Keaton, too, is looking for a career resurgence. He is brilliant in Birdman,
hopefully spring-boarding his comeback.
The next thing that needs to be
said about Birdman is just how insanely ambitious and aesthetically magnificent
it really is with its long takes and ultra-kinetic style. It is utter madness,
yet works wondrfully. Writer-director
Alejandro Gonzalez
Inarritu has made something truly special with the film aesthetically. The
film should be among the awards favorites in terms of directing,
cinematography, and production design.
One last thing to say really quickly
before diving more into an analysis of the film, Inarritu captures many of the
best performances of 2014 in Birdman. It is a film that excels principally as
art in many ways. The kinetic, yet highly structured shooting style seems to breathe
so much life into the performances, allowing the actors to live in the moment,
having the freedom to just perform without all the cuts. It is electric to
watch (and it must have been incredibly stressful and difficult to produce).
The whole film is made up of a series of long takes, in-between which time
jumps forward, as the narrative progresses.
One reading of the film might see
it as Riggan’s decent into madness. He is already on the edge as it opens, but
as the narrative plays out he is pushed out further and further until he has no
choice but to jump. Inarritu plays with his audience in this regard as well,
making Riggan feel like he is on the precipice of suicide – that he could just
end it all at any moment. This makes everything feel a bit tense. On top of
that, Riggan is delusional, a bad husband, a bad father, a bad boyfriend (to
his new girlfriend), a bad director, and probably even a bad actor. He begins
to realize each of these things as he also realizes that he has no control of
his own life. The play is everything to him. He has put everything he has and
is into it in the hopes of sparking new life and it is a disaster. As he begins
to accept he has no control, he gives up trying to fight the madness growing inside
him, instead reveling it, encouraging the madness to come in and hand-in-hand
leading it to the precipice, taking it all in.
Inarritu plays with parallels in
the film: shared imagery or feelings that are later expressed visually. At one
point Riggan is shown to jump off a building (playing on the feeling the
audience has that he might commit suicide at any moment) only to soar through
the streets of New York City unhurt, flying all the way back to the theatre
(although, it is then revealed that he really just took a cab back). There is a
similar moment later in the film that plays off this. In the play Riggan is
putting on, there is a line of dialog early on about how Riggan’s character in
the play cannot even commit suicide properly, shooting himself in the mouth but
messing it up and not dying. This comes back into play again as well. All these
similar images begin have the audience questioning what is real in the film.
Birdman opens with Riggan
levitating in his dressing room. He is also able to move things telekinetically.
Yet, Inarritu undercuts these presumed superpowers, that the audience always
sort of questioned anyway, by showing the cab as being what really returned
Riggan to the theatre instead of him flying. But, does he really have
superpowers? The film makes you think that it is all in his head, easily
explainable. No other character sees him do anything incredible. But in the end,
the audience is asked to question what they believe. Can Riggan actually fly?
Is he really Birdman?
Another interesting aspect of the
film is its commentary on contemporary Hollywood filmmaking, which is ruled by
big franchises, mostly feeling like superhero sequel after superhero sequel,
endlessly, crushing and minimalizing good work. The system is rigged to only
make films that make money and appeal to the average theater-goer, who are
often viewed as the lowest common denominator by the industry (based on the
terrible, mindless stuff that is put out there in mass, and often does well;
they probably are not wrong). The characters of highly acclaimed theatre actor
Mike and theatre critic Tabitha represent this distain for what cinema has
become, studios betting on franchise blockbusters and squashing originality,
art and true emotional/dramatic resonance in favor of noise, explosions and mindless
frantic entertainment. While this is not universally the case, as auteur
filmmakers continue to thrive within the system making excellent work (Birdman is
in part funded by New Regency Pictures, which is a medium sized studio and has
a distribution deal and is owned in part by 20
th Century Fox, for
example). Many of the stars of the film have successful careers in Hollywood
and themselves have starred in blockbuster franchises and big Hollywood films
(as well as made superhero films) themselves (
Emma Stone is in
The
Amazing Spider-Man series;
Zach Galifianakis
is in the
Hangover
series;
Naomi Watts
is in
King Kong;
Andrea Risenborough
is in
Oblivion;
Ed Norton is
in
The Incredible
Hulk; and
Amy
Ryan is in
Green
Zone). Thus, their condemnation of Hollywood feels hypocritical. But, like
the film itself, these personas are much more satires of theatre snobs than a
serious feeling of contempt for Hollywood. Yes, Hollywood churns out terrible
films, but they also make spectacular films (the superhero genre alone has seen
many brilliant releases lately with
Christopher
Nolan’s
The
Dark Knight trilogy and Marvel’s strong output during their MCU Phase II).
As aesthetically ambitious and
narratively unique as Birdman appears on the outside, in many ways it is simply
a film about a man having a mid-life crisis that has been jazzed up with
aesthetic bells and whistles. It is a film of relationships that Inarritu weaves
together and in and out so well with his interlocking long takes. Riggan is at
odds with his daughter, maybe still in love with his ex-wife, finding it
challenging to be completely there for his girlfriend, and is completely
overwhelmed by his play, especially managing an egotistical dramatic actor.
Riggan has a hard enough time just taking care of himself. All the chaos in his
life seems to push him over the edge, letting the madness consume him (yes we
may have come full circle on this review). Although, it is also probably safe
to say that he is already on the edge, ready to jump, before we even meet the
character. Structurally, the film finds Riggan as a man who had everything and
then lost it. Now he is trying to get it all back. But like many mid-life
crisis narratives, he realizes that he cannot have it back – that the past is
the past and everything has changed in the present; he cannot go back; he can
only move forward – which means that he might just begin listening to the
Birdman character voice in his head, for better or worse. Everything around him
has changed, now he must embrace it and acknowledge that he too must change (or
already has changed), or not and end it all rather than face the truth. Yet,
the film’s ending seems to only raise more questions and can we even trust what
Inarritu is showing us?
It might be too easy to just
place this film into a nice neat narrative box. Inarritu plays around with
fantasy to such an extent in the film that it begins to blend with reality. The
film could all be a fever dream. It seems just as likely. How much of Riggan’s
life is delusion? What is real? These are the questions that begin to populate
the conversation when a narrative’s protagonist is unreliable. These questions
also ultimately make Inarritu’s narrative all the more interesting.
Even with everything that works
so well, Birdman is not without some minor faults. The first act is especially
kinetic, aided by a score of nervous jazzy drumming that if nothing else builds
tension, as Inarritu sets up the narrative and the character relationships. It
is so flashy and vital as the camera floats effortlessly around the often claustrophobic
theatre that when things become a bit more dreamlike in the second half of the
film and the score becomes much more classical, losing the drums for periods of
time, some of the narrative’s moment is lost. These slower moments take the
viewer out of what is otherwise a very rich drama. As much as I love the
aesthetic style of the film, in these slower moments it seems like it all
suddenly collapses on itself. The great characters, tension and narrative flow
keep the viewers engaged, despite this grand artifice being constructed around them;
but in the slow moments, the artifice suddenly becomes much more apparent and
even distracting.
There is also no real resolution
between Riggan and Mike (who is maybe his greatest antagonist, though one might
say that Mike’s nemesis role switches to Tabitha at the end of the second act).
Mike is the element of chaos that seems to have finally pushed RIggan over the
edge; yet in the end when our hero is revealed as such, the audience is never
given closure to Riggan’s conflict with Mike (as we are with Tabitha). Thus,
the ending feels ever so slightly incomplete, but then again that is life.
All in All, Birdman is a
masterfully made film. It features many of this year’s best performances and is
aesthetically one of the most magnificent things I have seen (in some ways it
reminded me of
Joe
Wright’s
Anna Karenina,
another film I found to be aesthetically highly compelling). It is one of the
few must-see film of 2014.
Technical,
aesthetic & acting achievements: Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu is part
of the ‘Three Amigos’ with
Alfonso
Cuaron and
Guillermo
del Toro – three auteur Mexican directors that came up together. Inarritu made
his debut with the critically acclaimed
Amores Perros.
He has since tried to live up to the praise of that film with his work in
Hollywood and then in Spain (
21 Grams,
Babel and
Biutiful).
While each is a good film in its own right, none quite reach the same level of
cinematic excellence as Amores Perros. With Birdman, Inarritu has seemingly
made his first comedy, or at least film that actively tries and succeeds at
being funny. It is a very funny film, on top of being a great character drama. This
change of pace seems to have given him new life, so to speak, as Birdman feels
alive and vital. It is his best work in my opinion. The ambition and brilliance
of his direction also reaffirms his place not only as an auteur but also as one
of the best filmmakers currently working.
Newcomer composer
Antonio Sanchez
supplies Birdman with a score that is very different than what is typically
found in such films. It is mostly made up of jazz drumming that seems to insistently
be building towards something and thereby creates this sense of tension, only
forwarded by the tension felt between the characters. The sound design also
plays a role in this as well, as Inarritu uses a ticking clock at times to add
an extra layer of tension to the film. Cinematographer
Emmanuel Lubezki
seems to be on a mission to shame all other photographers with his work. Birdman
has wonderful long takes (a specialty of Lubezki – who is a frequent
collaborator with Cuaron, by the way) and Lubezki’s hand-held camera work is
practically flawless as the camera seems to seamlessly drift between hand-held
and crane shots. The technical quality of this film is maybe its chief achievement
(though, its performances are a very close second). Lubezki’s lighting is also
just right, as the film flutters between reality and fantasy.
Kevin Thompson’s
production design is also top notch. His theatre set is superb, as it mirrors
many of the dramatic themes and emotions at play in the narrative with its claustrophobic
hallways, dingy side rooms and rooftop that has beautiful view on the city.
As stated many times above, the
performances in this film are astonishing.
Lindsay Duncan
and
Merritt
Wever are very good in small supporting roles. Amy Ryan is good as Riggan’s
ex-wife Sylvia. She is very supportive and sweet, playing the victim of his
past antics well. She is also his strength to go on, however. Andrea
Riseborough is lost in the mix a bit playing Riggan’s actress girlfriend Laura.
She does have some fantastic vengeful gazes when he says something despicable
though. Naomi Watts plays Lesley an actress who always dreamed about being on Broadway
and has now finally made it. I remember thinking that Watts was very good, but
she too is a bit lost in the mix, especially since her character is not that
interesting by comparison to all the deeply damaged people wandering around in
this film. Zach Galifianakis plays Riggan’s lawyer and co-producer of the play.
He has great comedic timing (something we all already knew) and some of the
best lines in the film. His back-and-forth with Riggan reminds me of the shouting
matches between Orson Welles and John Houseman (played by
Angus Macfadyen and
Carey Elwes) in
Tim Robbin’s under-seen
Cradle Will
Rock. Edward Norton is extremely good as Mike, Riggan’s nemesis of sorts.
He plays an actor who can only feel real on the stage, caring little for
everything else. Norton is absolutely electric. He demands attention whenever
he is on camera. It is the best performance I have seen so far this year. Emma
Stone is also excellent, giving us her best work to date playing Riggan’s
damaged daughter Sam, who has recently been released from rehab. Without Stone’s
top performance, the film does not work. She is a key part to understanding Riggan’s
current state and her wondrous eyes sell the final moment. And finally we have
Michael Keaton playing Riggan, which could be called a warped version of
himself (or at least a warped version of his public persona). Keaton is a
master of playing characters on the verge of losing it. I am not sure anyone
could have played this character better. The wild look in his eyes during the
film makes everything believable, even as thing start to spin out of control
and the narrative feel more fantasy than real. I will be shocked if Keaton,
Stone and Norton miss out on Oscar nominations.
Summary
& score: Birdman is just about everything a cinephile could want
from a film: brilliant and ambitious aesthetics and directing, as well as an
ensemble cast of excellent actors putting forth some of their best work, that
all comes together in a dramatically interesting and challenging narrative.
And, it is funny too. 8/10
