Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)

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.