Review: Birdman

The opening credits appear with grating sluggishness, words filling in one letter at a time to the staccato smashes of a jazz drum beat. That sets the pace for this bizarre Marmite of a film. Mexican movie-maker Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu has impressed before with his contemplative, insightful studies of human beings and how they react to life around them. This is anti-Hollywood filmmaking, where event driven plots and big thrills are eschewed for realist observations. Amores perros, 21 Grams, Babel and Biutiful are all examples, and all steeped partly or wholly in Mexican society.

Washed up actor Riggan Thomas (Michael Keaton) is desperate to be taken seriously. He is about to open a Broadway play which he adapted, directed and now stars in. He also poured his money into it, hoping to shake off the restrictive shackles of only being remembered for his Birdman superhero blockbuster trilogy in the early ’90s. Buzzing about his head like flies are his friend and agent (Zach Galifianakis), daughter (Emma Stone), co-stars (Andrea Riseborough and Naomi Watts) and late entry arrogant thespian co-lead (Edward Norton). All Riggan wants to do is impress, but is hounded by self-loathing, suicidal tendencies and a voice in his head.

If Birdman is ‘about’ anything then it is the creative process. There are certainly parallels to be made with 8½, the celebrated work by Italian maestro Fellini, which stars Marcello Mastroianni as a filmmaker stuck in an artistic quagmire on-set. It is full of fevered dreams and fantasies, off-kilter musical scores and jarring styles. This struggling artist theme is what drives Birdman.

Birdman is also about the artist's place in today's world. Riggan feels plagued by technology. He just wants to perform art in front of people in a traditional fashion, desperate to ignore Twitter and please a single newspaper critic. He remains blissfully unaware of the power of an accidental viral publicity stunt. Indeed, the films subtitle / nickname / 19th century novel style alternative title is 'The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance'.

The style is what really stands out. Shot as if one take (in reality a series, sewn together seamlessly), Birdman strives for a semi-real-time continuity of theatre and ultimately life. The recurring, unaccompanied drum beat (we see the supposed actual drummer twice) inserts a frenetic and discordant soundtrack, like a mosquito in the back of the room, and very much like the constant buzz of depression in Riggan’s life. We hear a voice inside his head throughout, and the body of the voice (the Birdman character which made Riggan famous) eventually appears. Various characters from his imagination pop up to represent his fevered fantasies that are barely suppressed. All this helps to convey how he feels rather than letting the audience rely on imagination.

It is interesting to note that Keaton’s career tailed off after Batman. Perhaps it is this personal link with Riggan which allows for a great performance. Indeed, the actors in the play speak frequently about the importance of truth in their craft. The madness, the rage and the sheer difficulty at surviving life pour forth from Keaton’s movements and facial expressions as they well could in reality. The other big names turn out good performances, too, especially Emma Stone as Riggan’s addict daughter. But Zach Galifianakis (surprisingly serious), Edward Norton (surprisingly funny) and Andrea Riseborough and Naomi Watts (surprisingly abandoned midway through a plot development) are really there as a supporting cast. Much like the other actors and related people are merely second tier in his life, present to support his play and his career.

It’s a movie that critics will, and do, love. Ironically, there is in fact a critic on-screen: a hideous cliché of one, a pretentious snob who plans to trash the actor in her review without seeing the play purely because he was in films and thus a celebrity instead of an artist. I find that often films which stray precariously close to pretention will be the ones most aware of pretention, featuring pseudo-intellectual characters in satirical ridicule. And I am sure that it won’t only be critics who love it. Nonetheless, it could be a bit bloated and too actor-y for many viewers. What is supposed to seem ‘interesting’ can very easily wind up as ‘self-indulgent’ in the arts. 

Birdman is ultimately designed to make you feel. It’s not a film to enjoy on a rational level, but on an emotional one. The viewer is put you into the psychological realm of a struggling artist, and I suspect that it was a very personal production to those who made it.