Birdman

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