Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) Review

Originally Written: 07/01/2015

Edited: 23/02/2015

Haggard, forgotten movie star, or schizophrenic superhero? Alejandro González Iñárritu’s dark comedy combines the magnificent cinematography of Emmanuel Lubezki and punchy dialogue of Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris, Armando Bo, and Iñárritu himself, to deliver a spellbinding piece of cinema that cleverly transcends expectations and tradition. 

Birdman is Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton), a once loved superhero movie star who has now fallen into the realms of theatre. As a last ditch effort to pull himself from the dregs of obscurity, he adapts a Raymond Carver short story into a play on Broadway. Riggan is pushed to the extremes as he contends with pretentious, hostile actors, dysfunctional family relationships and a malicious journalist pecking at him like a vulture, all in parallel to the demise of Riggan’s spirit through the battling of his secondary persona, as it quickly outshines as the main attraction.  

The narrative outlines more of a melancholia of the disenfranchised celebrity, than the telling of a play. However, Iñárritu comes full circle with this by reflecting the melancholia of said stardom using the featured adaptation as a commentary on troubled relationships. This feature is punctuated primarily through Sam (Emma Stone), Riggan’s daughter, who is fresh out of rehab and now working as Riggan’s assistant. In one particular scene she and her father exchange verbal blows, as she ruthlessly attacks his pretention and selfish intentions to reclaim his accolades, by butchering him as a father and actor. The camera does not cease. We’re in the midst of the action, uninterrupted, as Stone gives one of the best performances to date. The whole audience can feel the angst of this jilted daughter, as this heated argument ends with Stone’s own expression of perplexity and shock.
Accompanying this star studded cast, and portraying their own celebrity counterpart is Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) offering up a stand out performance, with the pretentions of an actor so immersed in his own performance and status that he borders on psychotic, rather than method actor. The important thing to note, is just how Iñárritu is using these actors to comment on their own acting careers, by using the narrative as a device. Norton’s acting prowess is intrinsically linked to Mike Shiner’s egocentric real performances. Almost as explicit as the now dim light of the bat signal, that was Keaton’s stead as Batman. However, it must be emphasised that this is a black comedy, and so it is only fair that the real-life accomplishments of these actors be roasted. 

Yet Birdman is a multifaceted and visually stunning cinematic production, and it would be a travesty to omit the most compelling aspects of this feature, namely the manipulative and subversive cinematography. All pointing to a metafiction of self-grandeur. 

           
Riggan beings to expose the question that so many actors are plagued with; legacy. With reminiscence of so many Hollywood A-listers turned director, Riggan too is constantly under fire. Terrible reviews, setting disasters, ‘difficult’ actors, financial problems, and his own duality of self, Riggan proceeds undeterred like so many writers, producers and directors trying to create their vision. Regardless of the backlash of bad publicity, or Riggan’s nearly naked strut back to the theatre in his underwear, he still immerses himself in his performance. A testament to the ‘show must go on’ attitude that is propagated by artists and visionaries alike. What emerges is an impromptu documentary of the stage play. Sweeping us seamlessly behind the scenes; a voyeuristic glance into the fallings and pitfalls that are inherent within stage productions. This fixed lens – straight out of the Hitchcock directing handbook – delivers unceasing shots in practically real time. Iñárritu envelopes the audience in the action for the entire duration, positioning the audience as the omniscient party behind the curtains. Relationships turn to boiling point, all tightly framed to achieve a clever claustrophobia to reveal the anxiety turned depressed, tired actors all reflecting on the status quo. Yet this becomes somewhat subverted by the overarching narrative device, Riggan’s schizophrenia. 

Compared to the scenes that defy expectations, which are smartly juxtaposed by an intense battle between the protagonist and his wayward daughter and his flustered agent, we as an audience are left struggling to understand the director’s intention behind this metafiction. Is this quite simply one man’s legacy that has took off beyond the constraints of the theatre set, or on the reverse, is this a man who has failed to deliver on his promises and has instead flown the coop? A pivotal question that reinforces the film’s psychological aspects, pushing it in to the realms of “fantasy thriller”. By the film’s conclusion no one has the faintest idea what we are meant to believe. Much like Ridley Scott’s ambiguity surrounding Blade Runner’s protagonist, Iñárritu will endeavour to keep a closed lip on his interpretation of what Birdman represents. 

Birdman: a visually stunning and mesmerising cinematic gem. No film has astounded me quite like this film in the last five years. Iñárritu gracefully sweeps the audience through the duration of this film with tremendous acting, beautiful cinematography and visuals, and an original screenplay worthy of an Oscar.