Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton), a washed-up actor famous
for starring in a series of blockbuster superhero films, tries to regain
relevance and win over critics by directing and starring in a stage adaptation
of Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” However,
various personal and professional problems during production threaten to drive
Riggan off the deep end. His co-star Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) is a gifted
but uncompromising purist who threatens to sink his production. One of the
female leads, Lesley (Naomi Watts), experiences a crisis of confidence while
the other, Laura (Andrea Riseborough), is Riggan’s girlfriend, who doubts his
commitment. Riggan’s daughter Sam (Emma Stone), a recovering addict, serves as
his production assistant but doubts his vision. Meanwhile, a voice in Riggan’s
head admonishes him to give it up and don the Birdman costume one more time for
an easy payday.
Writer/director Alejandro Inarritu’s is best known for dark
and weighty dramas like Babel and 21 Grams, so it’s fitting that his first
foray into comedy is no featherweight. A bitingly critical takedown of the
pursuit of artistic truth and the culture of celebrity, Birdman is expertly acted and artfully executed. Though Inarritu occasionally
struggles to reign in excesses, his multiple Oscar winner is too funny and too
strangely compelling to ignore.
Given the premise, it’s no surprise that the casting is very
much a part of the joke. Keaton is, of course, the erstwhile Batman who has
done little of consequence since hanging up the tights while Norton harbors a
reputation for being a difficult to work with perfectionist. These kernels of
truth make not only for meta-humor but for excellent performances as well. Credit
too goes to Watts, Amy Ryan (as Riggan’s level-headed ex-wife) and Zach
Galifinakis (in an unusual quasi-straight man role as Riggan’s put-upon
lawyer/producer). No talent is squandered here.
The same holds true for behind the camera as well. Birdman is designed to evoke a
continuous single shot, and Emmanuel Luzebecki’s cinematography does just that.
Constant motion and long shots work immersive wonders here, but the jitter-cam
gets to be a bit much at times. This can also be said of Antonio Sanchez’s jazz
drum score. It’s apropos and fits the rhythm of the film though it eventually
grows repetitive.
Perhaps the most divisive aspect of the film is the role
played by the title character himself. Birdman starts as a voice inside Riggan’s
head but eventually graduates to an in-the-flesh (yet presumably still
imaginary) appearance. This accompanies Riggan’s use of (also presumably
imaginary) superpowers, which range from flight to telekinesis. While there is
some value in illustrating – and parodying – how Riggan sees the world, the
image of Keaton coasting through the city at the urging of a gruff-voiced
simpleton of an alter ego is ridiculous to the point that it undermines
whatever cleverness Inarritu had stockpiled. The ending, though necessarily ambiguous,
inspires a similar level of eye-rolling.
While its stylistic flights of fancy may keep it from
soaring as high as it should, Birdman
nevertheless offers both the acting chops and creative vision to justify its
place toward the top of 2014’s cinema pecking order.
8.25/10
