If you
pay any attention to movie industry scuttlebutt, no doubt you’ve heard at least
some of the Oscar buzz surrounding Birdman or (The Unexpected
Virtue of Ignorance). Critics are falling all over themselves with praise for it,
declaring it the year’s best film, and a shoo-in for an Academy Award or two.
But, for me, this wasn’t a simple thumbs-up or thumbs-down kind of movie.
(Gasp!) If that excludes me from the cool kids’ table, well -- I can live with
that. Probably won’t be the last time.
Birdman
is a dark comedy that stars Michael
Keaton as Riggan Thomson, an aging actor whose uber successful
super-hero movie franchise made him rich and famous back in the day. Decades
later, we find him plagued by (a) self-doubt, (b) the notion that he sold his
soul and integrity to Hollywood, and (c) a menacing phantom voice -- that of
Riggan as Birdman (a la, Keaton as Batman) -- which constantly fills his head
with delusions of grandeur and super powers from yesteryear. In an attempt to
prove his relevance and regain some dignity, Riggan is writing, directing and
starring in a Broadway play, based on the work of the highly respected writer
and poet, Raymond Carver. He’s desperate for the play to be successful, and
terrified it’ll fail -- and with good reason, especially considering the cast
of characters surrounding him.
First,
there’s his troubled daughter (Emma
Stone) who’s fresh out of rehab, begrudgingly working as his assistant,
and hellbent on constantly reminding him of his failures as a father and a
legitimate actor. His jittery producer (Zach
Galifianakis) is truly trying to be supportive of his friend, but recognizes
the potential disaster at hand, and is ready to just pull the plug and go home.
His new co-star (Edward
Norton) is a loose cannon and veteran of the theater. He’s beloved by
the critics and represents Riggan’s most urgent desires and fears, while
undermining him at every turn. His lead actress (Naomi
Watts) is the embodiment of all the worst acting stereotypes --
desperate for validation, emotionally fragile, and a terrible judge of
character -- both her own and others’. There’s also a horribly elitist New York
Times theater critic (Lindsay
Duncan) who promises to destroy the show, based merely on her hatred of
Riggan’s Hollywood pedigree. And finally, there’s Birdman himself. Though he’s
a figment of Riggan’s imagination, his incessant nagging about returning to
their vapid, but lucrative and familiar movie roots seems destined to send
Riggan right over the edge. Quite literally.
That’s
really the big, lingering question throughout the movie… will Riggan go
completely insane, or will he achieve the critical success he craves?
It’s a
pretty good premise, right? I think we all can relate to his inner conflict as
he strives to reach his goal. Should you measure success by wealth, or by
personal satisfaction? Is your identity based on who you think you are, or how
others perceive you? Can you possibly hope to completely overhaul your life and
correct past mistakes in your later years?
Great questions.
But I can’t say that Birdman does a particularly thorough job addressing them.
While
it’s fascinating to witness the dissection of these egomaniacal, narcissistic
actors and the battle of Hollywood schlock vs. Broadway grit, in order to
really connect with a movie’s characters and their struggles, I really need to
either sympathize with them, or to find them relatable. There are moments --
squeezed in between wink-wink, nudge-nudge industry jokes about X-men prequels
and Robert Downey, Jr.’ acting abilities -- when Birdman comes awfully close to
achieving this. It frequently hovers right on the edge, but because it remains
so focused on Riggan the actor and all the sad and comical trappings of the
profession, I never got that raw, painful moment of truth I was hoping for,
when all the artifice is stripped away, and we get to the core of the actual
man. Maybe that was their point -- that there’s nothing behind an actor’s
facade? But, I doubt it. That seems a bit too cynical, even by Hollywood
standards.
All that
being said, Birdman has a lot of other things going for it. While so many
movies today go crazy with quick edits and jumpy hand-held camera sequences,
Birdman takes the opposite approach with smooth, seamless long shots that
create an endlessly unflinching effect throughout the movie. It’s also filled
with really great performances. I mean, how could you go wrong with a cast like
this? Especially with Keaton providing such enormous depth and texture, and
Norton bringing his signature intensity and humor. I can certainly see how the
Oscar buzz could pertain to the two of them.
Despite
what I perceived as its shortcomings, Birdman is still a good movie, and worth
seeing for its originality, cinematic style and great acting ensemble. I’ll be
curious to see if moviegoers will be as blown away as the overwhelming majority
of critics, or if they’ll be with me at the “uncool” kids’ table. (There’s
plenty of room, I’ll save you a seat.)
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