‘Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)’ Review

Before this film starts we are treated to a title card featuring Raymond Carver’s final poem “Late Fragment.” Within it contains the line “And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.” Later on, as our main character Riggan Thompson (Michael Keaton) is recovering from a crippling personal defeat, his ex-wife Sylvia (Amy Ryan) gives him a much-needed reality check, “you confuse love for admiration.” It’s these excerpts that not only sum up Riggan’s desires and faults but also serve as the driving force of the film. Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is a surreal dark comedy with enough cinematic flair and existential dread to please cinephiles but also has a broad appeal in its A-list cast and sharp sense of humor.

Director Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu has achieved something incredible with this multilayered tumble through one man’s fractured psyche that manages to both entertain and push the boundaries of cinematography. He and his fellow screenwriters Nicolas Giacobone, Armando Bo, and Alexander Dinelaris, Jr. tackle the destructive nature of ego, insecurity, and the fear of being a nobody. This is Inarritu’s fifth outing as a director and it’s the biggest departure from his brand: beautifully shot misery porn. I admire films like Babel and 21 Grams but they’re so oppressively bleak that I just want them to take a Xanax and see a therapist. It’s nice to see him let loose and have fun for once. He can still give us a dark story about the tortured human soul but hey show us Michael Keaton’s wrinkled ass running around Times Square in his tighty whities please!

Riggan Thompson is a washed up, aging movie star who once had a flash in the pan success when he portrayed comic book superhero Birdman in a series of films in the 90s. First off, you cannot talk about this movie without bringing up the parallels to Michael Keaton’s celebrity and while washed up is the last word I would use to describe him you can’t deny that this extra layer adds a meta quality to the film. Riggan, in an attempt to escape the Birdman persona and secure his fragile self-esteem, writes, directs, and stars in a Broadway production of Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” Throughout the film he tries so desperately to fit into the mold of being a true artist but he’s constantly set back by his external and internal circumstances. At the last minute he hires on the brilliant but high maintenance actor Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) who is constantly throwing wrenches in the production. On top of that he has a voice in his head in the form of Birdman who keeps telling him that he’s out of his league and should go back to being a sellout movie star.

All Riggan wants is to be admired and for him that means being seen as a true artist. He acquires the surface level traits of an artist but has no inherent talent as an actor or director. His play is chock full of histrionic music cues and contains a dream sequence straight out of a bad community theater production complete with dwarves and cheesy dialogue. He even carries around a note of affirmation given to him by Raymond Carver when he was a kid. This is the reason he became an actor and why he wants to do this play. This sounds like the sort of clichéd reason that an actor is supposed to have for doing what they do and it is rightfully torn apart by Mike when he reveals to him that it’s written on a cocktail napkin, meaning that Carver was most likely drunk when he wrote it.

All of Riggan’s illusions are shattered by the presence of Mike who is the embodiment of that great artist he wants to be. Although he is an accomplished stage actor who’s able to dig deep into the lives of his characters, Mike makes Riggan’s life hell on Earth with his extreme methods of getting into character and constant hijacking of the show. For him the stage is his life and we learn to identify with him through his unsatisfying personal life. Although these two characters are on opposite ends of the spectrum they end up complimenting one other.

In this film self-loathing and mental illness take the form of magic realism with Riggan’s emotional outbursts represented by psychic powers and literal flights of fancy. Whenever the stress becomes too much for him to bear he will send objects crashing into the walls with his mind but when his manager Jake (Zach Galifianakis) walks in on this outburst he sees it for what it really is: a sad old man tearing himself apart. When he comes to terms with the fact that he can’t beat Birdman a misplaced euphoria overwhelms him and Antonio Sanchez’s frenetic jazz score is replaced with classical music as he soars through the rooftops of New York. It is this unconventional perspective that injects the film with innovation and prevents the audience from drowning in its dark subject matter.

The entire journey of this movie is filmed to look like one long continuous take, which some may dismiss as a showy gimmick but you can’t deny its effectiveness. The shots that follow Riggan as he rushes through the hallways of the St. James Theatre combined with the hectic jazz drumming suck you inside his overtaxed mind. The sheer amount of effort and craft that cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki put into filming this is a feat unto itself where the cuts are cleverly hidden behind dark corners and time lapses. He remembers to use the language of film and adds a range to the cinematography. The quiet, personal moments get their intimate close ups while Riggan’s delusions are given the epic, sweeping vistas they deserve. Anybody can waste film and choose to shoot a sequence without saying “cut!’ but what makes this film impressive is the idea behind the long take and how the cinematographer can work within a seemingly constrictive design.

Equally impressive is the ensemble Inarritu has assembled who more than excel within the long take concept. This is the best work Michael Keaton has done in his long, varied career. He brings his trademark manic energy and lays his emotions bare on the table giving perhaps his most vulnerable performance to date. He walks that fine line between extreme self-loathing and maddening self-importance while simultaneously bringing the character’s good intentions to life. Edward Norton gives the role his signature gravitas and isn’t afraid to poke fun at his reputation for being difficult to work with. Emma Stone nails the troubled daughter tropes, Amy Ryan gives us the most tender moments in the film, and Zach Galifianakis successfully plays against type as Riggan’s haggard, down to earth agent while still getting to flex his comedic muscles.

I’m curious to see how people will view Birdman as it ages. It has one moment where the fantastical and realistic worlds blend and it leaves viewers to fill in the blanks with their own interpretations. There may be plenty out there who say there’s nothing to interpret; accusing the film of being as shallow and fluffy as the empty spectacle blockbusters it mocks. What cannot be dismissed is the pure audacity and joy that went into making this film and even if it doesn’t stick the landing for you, it will give you a wonderful ride through the clouds.

★★★★★