Birdman: A Review

One of the things I find most fascinating about Superheroes is their versatility as a metaphor. Much like Knights or Cowboys before them, Superheroes can be slotted in to represent any number of different themes or ideas. Slap a big letter on some spandex and it could mean anything from condemnation of the military-industrial complex to a proxy of a classic religious figure. It's that usefulness as a symbol that allows the Superhero archetype to fit into the world of Mexican director Alejandro Inarritu's new dark comedy Birdman.

The film stars Michael Keaton as Riggan Thomson, a washed-up actor who starred in a series of blockbuster superhero movies back in the 90s as the eponymous Birdman. In the present he's sunk all of his money into directing and starring in a serious, high-minded Broadway drama, his last attempt at some kind of artistic credibility and relevance after the Birdman films ruined his reputation. Riggan's play is slowly collapsing around him though; with his cast being taken over by an overbearing method actor (Edward Norton), his lawyer best friend (Zach Galifianakis) second guessing all his decisions, and the critics' unwillingness to let go of his history as Birdman. All of this pressure is beginning to get to Riggan as he starts having delusions, imagining he has telekinesis and that his former superhero character is speaking to him, and the question becomes not whether he'll actually get his play off the ground, but whether he'll do it before he goes completely crazy.


From that synopsis, you might have gotten an idea of how Inarritu uses the symbolism of superheroes. In Birdman, superheroes are the artless pop fluff. They don't make you think or consider, they just coddle and bombard you with explosions and hackneyed plots. They are what Riggan is trying to escape from, thinking that moving away from that familiar artifice into the more "real" world of theater will earn him the recognition he's been seeking. But the superhero also represents a temptation to Riggan, shown through the voice of the fictional Birdman speaking to him throughout the film, an easy out that he can take at any moment. Why go through all this trouble to do theater for recognition you may not even get if you could go back to Hollywood, do another big-budget boomfest, and make millions of dollars? This is compounded early in the film by references to the Marvel movies (Iron Man, Thor, etc.) taking audiences away from the theater and Riggan's indignation at people like Robert Downey Jr. taking in praise and accolades for these superhero movies while he suffers in obscurity after starting the trend with his Birdman movies (a neat play on Michael Keaton's past as Batman).

Riggan hallucinates his superhero alter ego, Birdman

The irony is that the Broadway theater world Riggan is trying his darnedest to break into is just as artificial, but in a different way. He and his cast are convinced that there is some kind of truth in doing live theater, or a greater authenticity to it than in movies. But as we the audience see every rehearsal devolve into chaos, with actors nearly killed onstage and numerous wardrobe malfunctions, it becomes clear that the grandeur these people aspire to is only in their heads and the mystique of the theater is undone before our eyes. It's in watching this disaster unfold that the film mines most of its comedy, like a hilarious moment midway through the film where Riggan is locked outside during a performance and has to run through Times Square in just his dirty white briefs, and the cash shines portaying a group of people who either don't know or don't care how screwed up they are. Every character gets a good moment but the standouts are Norton playing one of the most obliviously selfish jerks ever put on screen and Emma Stone as Riggan's daughter, a recovering drug addict just trying to survive as her dad's assistant. The script gives them both enough shades of character and the actors invest them with enough depth to make them feel like real people. The only weak spot is Galifianakis playing against type as the straight man, the harried producer trying to keep the sinking ship of the play afloat. He's not terrible but it seems strange to give the professional comedian so few funny moments.

Riggan's underwear run through Times Square

But the highlight and best performance in the film belongs to Keaton, playing a man so desperate to hold himself together that it's just breaking him apart faster. Keaton plays Riggan with all his well-honed scene stealing chops, showing him as a man who's almost always on edge and ready to blow up at any given time. He subtly seems to understand that his quest for artistic affirmation is hopeless but has invested too much into it to give up. Keaton puts so much into showing Riggan continually being put upon by the world, slowly breaking under the weight, that at the climax of the film when he begins acting so calm and zen you aren't sure whether you should be relieved or concerned. But Keaton really lets his comedic talent shine playing Riggan's hallucination of the Birdman character. Voiced with an obvious parody of Christian Bale's infamously gravelly Batman voice, Birdman is a foul-mouthed id either pushing Riggan to accept the reality of being a glorified Hollywood stuntman or just deeper into psyche-breaking delusion. Birdman's every appearance is a laugh riot as he exists mainly to mock Riggan and all the ridiculous crap happening around him, the boorish voice of the average moviegoer who's smugly too good for all this high-minded theater.

But the Birdman delusion is just one aspect of Inarritu's visual approach to the film, which more than anything is trying to show that Riggan really is losing his mind. The film's look is full of magic realist touches that are meant to make the audience question whether what we're seeing is actually happening or not, things like the Birdman voice or Riggan's telekinesis, but it extends beyond that. Like with the jazz drum score, a musical genre traditionally connected with madness, chiming in whenever Riggan has another breakdown and the drummer sometimes appearing to make viewers question whether he's hearing the music in his head or the drummer actually is there. Or with how the film is shot, using some beautiful camera trickery to make the entire film look like one long continuous take with the camera hovering around the actors and zooming in doors and out windows. Inarritu is consciously trying to make you aware that you are watching a film the entire time, making it clearly artificial so you will question the authenticity of what you're seeing. The film is subtitled The Unknown Virtue of Ignorance and I think by exposing the artificiality of superhero films, Broadway drama, and even his own film, Inarritu is to deny us that ignorance. And by denying it, he can show that Riggan's quest for authenticity is pointless. There is no authenticity in Birdman's world, the entire thing is constructed. Inarritu is saying that the unknown virtue of ignorance is that it allows us to not recognize our limitations and may help us realize our goals. Because it's only after Riggan finally accepts his madness that he actually achieves the affirmation he's spent the whole film searching for.

Birdman is undeniably a weird movie, with its ambiguous reality and almost absurdist portrayal of Broadway theater. But it is fascinating. Much like its score, it's like a great jazz piece. It doesn't play the familiar beats, but it draws you in with just how fearlessly it plays its own offbeat tune and is fun enough that you want to see where it's going. It helps that the film is often hilarious, the laughs feel very natural as a reaction to how surreal the production feels. And the characters are human enough to ground the craziness for an audience less used to this kind of experimental approach. If you've heard about Birdman and are curious, I recommend it. Even if its pretentious profundity doesn't interest, it's still entertaining just as a portrait of a man cracking under pressure. By all means, appreciate the unknown virtue of ignorance.

Final Score: 5/5