"A thing is a thing, not what is said of that thing."
This quote, apocryphally attributed to the late writer Susan Sontag, appears as a rather prominent piece of set design in Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance). While the idea behind that quote factors heavily into Birdman's plot, the irony of it is not completely lost on me either. Birdman is a movie that does not need me or anyone else to critique it, whether our reviews are either positive or negative. It simply is what it is. But if you want my personal opinion, Birdman is one hell of a movie. It flawlessly blends humor and drama into a movie that is worth your time and effort, because it's the best I've seen all year.
Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) was once one of the hottest actors in Hollywood, his career bolstered by his starring role as the winged superhero Birdman in a series of blockbuster movies. But when he stepped away from the role after Birdman 3 out of fear of being typecast, his career nosedived and he ultimately faded into relative obscurity. His only notoriety comes now from people vaguely recognizing him and telling their young children, "He used to play Birdman."
Twenty years after he left the Birdman franchise, Riggan has decided to make a comeback by adapting the Raymond Carver short story "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" for the Broadway stage. It's an ambitious effort, as Riggan is writing, directing, and starring the play. But with opening night looming, problems arise with enough frequency that the whole thing seems like a comedy of errors. They start off (relatively) simple: Budgetary woes threaten to cripple the production and nearly cause Riggan's producer and best friend Jake (Zach Galifianakis) to keel over from the stress; his co-star Laura (Andrea Riseborough) claims she's pregnant with his baby; lead actress Lesley (Naomi Watts) is a nearly inconsolable bundle of nerves because this is her first role on Broadway; and all this as Riggan tries to get a handle on his rocky relationship with his estranged daughter Sam (Emma Stone), who is fresh out of rehab and struggling to maintain her sobriety.
Things start snowballing quickly, however. Mike Shiner (Edward Norton), a last-minute replacement for another actor who was injured during rehearsals, is incredibly talented, but is also a prima donna whose obnoxious and volatile behavior puts him at odds with Riggan and the rest of the cast. Embarrassing moments from the disastrous preview performances start going viral. An influential New York Times theater critic (Lindsay Duncan) has already promised to absolutely murder the play with a negative review before she's even seen it. And in the process, Riggan's own ego and self-doubt manifest themselves as an inner monologue that speaks in his old Birdman voice, egging him on while slowly pushing his sanity to its breaking point.
Birdman is a deceptively deep movie. On the surface, it comes across as a movie about some washed-up actor trying to reclaim some semblance of fame and the misadventures that come from such an endeavor. That's how the trailers and TV commercials appear to be selling it, anyway. But there's so much more going on underneath the surface waiting to be discovered if one just takes the time to look for it. It's a tale of how popularity and love aren't always the same thing, that fame is fleeting and that reclaiming it doesn't guarantee happiness.
There are enough things contributing to how good the movie is that I don't know if I can give credit to just one person. But I will say that a good portion of that credit should go to director Alejandro G. Iñárritu. His efforts here are absolutely masterful, constructing each scene in such a way that you can't take your eyes away from the screen. Iñárritu's choice to have cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki shoot the movie with handheld cameras and construct the footage such a way that it feels like the movie was done in one long take (akin to Alfred Hitchcock's Rope or La Casa Muda/Silent House) makes the movie visually riveting. When you combine this with the intimate feeling created by it being predominantly set in the cramped dressing rooms and back hallways of a Broadway theater, it really sucks you into the world Iñárritu wants to create and into the mindsets of the characters.
Iñárritu builds his own little world here, one populated not just by the characters but by Riggan's hopes, fears, and inadequacies. He constructs Riggan's world around him, everything ebbing out from each decision he makes and every stumbling block he encounters. Iñárritu takes us right into the heart of it, lets us be privy to the existence of a man whose vanity project risks harming him just as much as it could help him prosper.
The same can be said for the script, penned by Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris Jr., and Armando Bo. They've crafted a story full of rich, engaging characters that are so fascinating to watch that you're pleased every time they appear and miss when they're gone. The characters feel like real people, each with their own motives, desires, and lives beyond what we're shown on screen. We can connect with them because we know people like them.
But like with Iñárritu's direction, the story centers around Riggan Thomson. Riggan is a man lost in his own indignities, staring irrelevancy in the face thanks to a daughter that resents him, a career that's been stalled for too long, and an industry that's moved on without him. We spend much of the movie peeking inside his mind, seeing things as he sees them, led by the sound of Birdman's voice into fits of anger and depression, along with the occasional flight of fantasy. It is these moments of fantasy ― where Riggan exhibits superpowers like flight and telekinesis ― that gives one the feeling that these are extensions of the character's desire to regain the fame and glory he had when he was a top draw in Hollywood. Riggan has put so much faith in himself that he fails to realize that he's making himself into a modern-day Icarus, continuing to build his wings of wax even as he gets closer and closer to the sun. It's a story that is humorous, heartbreaking, and compelling all at the same time.
But as fascinating as the story is, the telling of it would have been all for naught had the actors not been on their A-game. And personally, I thought Birdman's cast was amazing. Zach Galifianakis, Naomi Watts, and Andrea Riseborough are all solid, but the supporting cast is held up by Emma Stone and Edward Norton. Stone's character tries hiding her heartache and anguish beneath a shield of jaded sarcasm, but the shield cracks over time and allows her inner turmoil to show through. Sam is a troubled young woman filled with pain, frustration, and resentment, wanting and needing a little love but struggling to find it. Stone plays this effortlessly, using it to portray Sam as having a glimmer of light at the end of the rocky path she's been traveling but being unsure of how to get to it.
It's a great performance from Stone, but with Birdman, the acting gets better as we go, as is the case with Norton. The irony of Norton ― an actor notorious for butting heads with directors when their artistic vision doesn't quite correlate with his own ― playing an actor who keeps undermining a director every chance he gets isn't lost on me. I can't say whether or not that factored into Norton's performance, but I will say that he's fantastic here. It's arguably his best performance since American History X. While he may be playing an insufferable prick and glory hog, Norton still brings a certain likeability to the role. You want to strangle and laugh with Mike Shiner at the same time. But Norton adds a depth to it as well. One gets the feeling that acting is all the character has, that it's his whole world. You never really know how much of his caustic personality is just an act to draw a reaction out of people, or if he's trying to cover up for some sort of inadequacy. Does Norton's character lose himself in his roles because being someone else is preferable to being himself? Norton accomplishes a lot here, and all the praise for him I've seen in various other reviews and critiques are on the money.
The entirety of Birdman, though, belongs to Michael Keaton. The movie has drawn a lot of attention because many see it as an allegory for Keaton's career following his departure from the Batman franchise, a viewpoint that is not without merit. Of the movies Keaton has appeared in since the release of Batman Returns in 1992, only a handful of them have been memorable and even fewer have been any good. Birdman has been hailed as something of a comeback for him, and whether or not that's true, Keaton still delivers the performance of a lifetime here. You can't take your eyes off of him. Keaton doesn't just play Riggan Thomson, he becomes him. He makes you feel every bit of emotional turmoil he's going through, all of his suffering, conflict, anger, and disappointment. All one can do is sympathize with Riggan as he teeters on the brink of a total breakdown, and Keaton makes it completely believable. It's a performance that, when it's all said and done, will be one of the true highlights of his career.
I've said a lot about Birdman. And while a thing may not be what is said of that thing, I feel confident in saying that Birdman is definitely one of the best movies I've seen in a very long time. Some might argue that it comes off as a wee bit pretentious at times, an argument that I'm not going to dispute. But I walked out of that darkened theater once the credits rolled feeling refreshed, because it was fun seeing something so far different from the fare I usually see. It's a beautiful piece of artwork that works on a multitude of different levels, and I couldn't enjoy it more. Birdman is most certainly a movie worth seeing, and any lover of movies in general is missing out if they don't give it a shot.
Final Rating: ****½
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