Life imitates art and vice versa in writer/director
Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu’s (Babel,
Biutiful) film about a washed up
Hollywood actor, played by Michael Keaton (Batman,
Beetlejuice, Jack Frost) attempting to make his comeback in the theater world in
a show he has adapted, directed and is starring in called What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Keaton played Batman in 1989 and reprised his role in Batman Returns in 1992, both films
making him a bona fide movie star. Since these films, little has been seen of
Keaton on the big screen, or anywhere for that matter. He has been working in
film, and small roles in television, but nothing has hit quite as big as his
success in the 80’s and 90’s. Keaton’s Birdman
character, Riggan Thompson, has a similar history. He starred in a trilogy of Birdman superhero films, turning down the fourth and essentially becoming a has-been
after that.
Twenty years after the success of Birdman, Riggan Thompson is back and his sole intent is to be
relevant and recognized again not only as an actor, but as an artist. The only
issue is that he now lives in a world where everyone is trying to be relevant
in the quickest and easiest ways possible, thanks to social media. Riggan can’t
keep up. His assistant and drug-addicted daughter, played by Emma Stone, in her
most multi-dimensional performance to date, reminds him of his irrelevance
every chance she gets. He has put his entire life savings into this play, and
it has to be brilliant. The stakes are high. He has put so much importance on making
this comeback that you are forced to ponder that if it doesn’t work, will he
survive?
As play rehearsals and previews grow worse and worse leading
up to opening night, Riggan fights with his subconscious every time he is alone
in his dressing room. His
subconscious comes in the form of his Birdman
character and as Riggan grows more conflicted, his subconscious becomes darker
and more visual. We go from not only hearing his voice, to actually seeing
him physically taunt Riggan. Riggan’s battle in large part is with the actor he recently
cast to star opposite of him in the play. Mike, played by Edward Norton is young and gritty, and unlike
Riggan, he is relevant. The theater world knows him and they love him. Mike is
brilliant on stage. He is honest and true in everything he does, almost to the
point of absurdity. But in real life, he struggles with intimacy. He does not
know himself and neither do those closest to him.
Aside from the fantasy and the comedy, the film has a deep
grounding in reality. It is about the importance of being present in the world
we live in. There are many references to social media throughout the film to
emphasize how tuned out an entire generation has become to what is happening
around them. We miss the real moments in life because we are too busy tweeting
them or trying to catch them on video. As uninterested as Riggan might be in
becoming "the next viral sensation,”
the movie focuses on how much he has missed out on in his life, because
he has been caught up in being significant, in being a movie star, and if not
in being a star, then trying to become one again. He made his entire life about
his career and he missed his daughter’s childhood. He took his wife for
granted. The stage play he has adapted and directed is about a woman that he
was once involved with, that used to love him. The play is a metaphor for
Riggan and the rest of the world and how they once loved him, and how without
that love, he feels he is nothing. In one of the most magnetic lines in the
film, Sylvia, Riggan’s ex-wife, played by Amy Ryan says, “It’s what you always
do. You confuse love with admiration.” This line is symbolic for Riggan and for
the entire generation that came after him.
With Zach Galifianakis, and Naomi Watts rounding out this
stellar cast, it is apparent that casting is one of Birdman’s greatest achievements. Birdman’s most impressive feat however, is what it achieves
cinematically. Innaritu shoots extended scenes without cutting, that track one
into the other, into the other. This triumph is thanks to cinematographer Emmanuel
Lubezki who also filmed the 12 minute opening shot in Gravity and several long takes in Children of Men. The beauty of shooting this way is that for two
hours, the audience feels as though they are watching someone’s life in real
time unfold before them. The majority of the film takes place in the Broadway
theater house that Riggan’s play will debut. We see rehearsals, we see behind-the-scenes
moments, and intimate conversations, and we see previews and opening night, all
happen in this theater. Through the use of mirrors and lighting, the
film is made to look seamless. It appears as if there are no cuts at all. Naturally,
this makes us feel closer to what is happening on screen. It is for this reason
that people go see theater. There is no editing. There is no pause, play or rewind.
What happens before you is live and it is raw, and what happens one night, cannot
happen any other night. This is where some of the brilliance lies in Innaritu’s
screenplay. He is honoring theater as an art form on two levels: One, by making a film about a washed up
actor that wants to make his return to notoriety in the most respected
performance outlet as an actor; Two, by making a film about a theater
production, in the form and spirit of theater. The amount of precision this
took not only on behalf on Lubezki as cinematographer, and Innaritu as writer and director,
but for all parties involved, is astounding. For the actors, being able to move
and have conversations through confined spaces, with moving cameras, and
lighting and extras, is astonishing. I can only imagine the kind of
choreography and rehearsal that went into this, and the stress of making sure
you get it right. And for the film to turn our masterfully? Incredible. For
editors, lighting techs, costume designers, set designers, etc….all involved
here achieved a seemingly impossible feat. Hats off to all.
Innaritu moves fluidly from reality to fantasy, making one
hard to decipher from the other as Riggan’s psyche grows more distressed. He
makes use of grand, orchestral music, often found in old Hollywood films to
separate what is happening on stage, from what is happening in Riggan’s real
life. The film has a great message in regard to the notion that how well we do
is ultimately determined by how well we feel about ourselves. In that sense, we
are in control of our own destiny. As soon as Riggan lets go of all of the
pressure and begins to believe that he is truly great regardless of what the media, blogs or anyone else is
saying, not only does his Birdman alter ego fly, but his opening night performance
soars as well.
Birdman is a work
of art. Aside from what it achieves technically, it is doused with life lessons and great moments
of comedy and irony. It is not quite like anything else I have seen before.
It’s funny; it’s heartfelt; it’s provocative. It's modern, yet classic.
Birdman is everything. It’s a must-see.