Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is a unique experience.
Let’s use that sentence as the first example to support the statement.
The singularity of the film is like a crisp slap in the face (in that good way) as Intelligent Cinema is a rarity these days. Everyone is too busy cranking out superhero movies to make anything thoughtful or challenging anymore. The Pursuit of the Billion Dollar Movie is littered with the clunking corpses of Transformers and the rotting vestige of Tim Burton’s pride. Hell, it could be said that Birdman IS a superhero movie- just a revisionist vision of one.
But apart from being smart and challenging, Birdman is incredibly entertaining. Hilarious in fact. And that makes it an anomaly- it’s a layered piece of perfectly crafted cinema whose appeal should transcend the art houses and speak to the masses. Not since the peak of Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation) have we’ve seen anything like this twisted breakup letter to Hollywood.
The film demands multiple views and I’m not about to say that I fully understand all of it after the first pass. There is a through line regarding what is reality that hits on meta levels. Michael Keaton plays Riggan Thomson, an aging screen actor best known for his work as a winged superhero from the 90’s. Close to reality. He is staging a play that he adapted, directs and stars in and it is crumpling through his fingers. He begins to hear the voice of his old Birdman character (with a deep-toned grumble that resembles Bale’s delivery of Dark Knight lines) and seems to be able to move objects with this mind. And he can fly. Is it reality? Probably not but it may be harder than you think to tell for sure when the credits role and you’re leaving for you own version of reality.
The question of what is real and tangible is heightened even further by the truth that they are in a theater, performing on a stage lines with parallel meanings and lying to each other behind the closed drapes. Keaton as a warped form of Keaton (or not but it would explain why he is delivering his most honest performance) haunted by the Bird/Batman persona of his past makes for a killer two hours. What is real? Who cares. It’s all brilliant.
Iñárritu’s script and direction is masterful. Birdman is almost entirely presented as one continuous image featuring long takes and some obvious camera magic. This technique works perfect with the material, giving it a beat and rhythm.
The cast around Keaton matches his level. Edward Norton has some bright moments in the first act and everyone is given a moment or two to shine. Keaton is a revelation, however, and commands attention. This is the cinematic universe lining up in direct alignment for an actor, providing him with a gift of a project. Give him the awards. No arguing. Can’t wait for the sequel.
There is a lot of musing here. Lot of subjective facts that scathe our tastes in entertainment and what we revere. There is also a nice little diatribe delivered by Keaton concerning critics that struck me in the heart. He is right. We label. This entire write up is nothing but labels and I contribute nothing. With that said, this will be my final review. I sit ashamed.
For reals?
Who knows…