There are probably spoilers in here somewhere, so ye be warned.
Money, power, sex--all primary motivators for getting off our asses and getting shit done in this world. But what driving force is behind these three (and many other) goals? Validation. The feeling that our unique, special lives actually mean something in a sea of billions and billions of other lives that have lived, currently live, and will live on earth. We want to be special. We want to be adored. We want to be remembered.
The film Birdman (or, the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) wrestles with the issue of validation, particularly external validation. I'd be interested in hearing what actors think of this film, as they are often stereotyped as being narcissistic and needy, with their locus of control firmly external.
Michael Keaton, in a bravura performance, plays Riggan Thomson, an aging actor best known for his role as "Birdman", a gravely-voiced superhero (clearly modeled on Batman, whom Keaton played in the late 80's/early 90's). Riggan walked away from the Birdman franchise because he didn't want to let it define him as an actor, despite making gobs of money and becoming world famous because of the role. Now, Riggan is in his 50's, with wrinkles, an ex-wife, and a resentful adult daughter, Sam (Emma Stone, also great). Worst of all, Riggan is becoming irrelevant. As Sam, points out, he doesn't even have a Facebook account.
To make a final grab at relevancy, Riggan has put his money, time, and energy into adapting and staring in a theatre production of Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love". During the previews leading up to opening night, Riggan is forced to contend with a series of problems, including an annoying prima donna co-star, Mike Shriner (Edward Norton, never better), who throws tantrums and gets raging erections onstage. But even offstage there is no rest for the weary Riggan: Sam, a recovering drug addict, acts bitchy to him; Laura, his lover (the luminous Andrea Riseborough), might be pregnant; and most disturbing of all--Riggan is haunted by Birdman himself. The gravely voice is always in his ear, telling him he's old and washed up, that no one cares about his stupid play, and that he'll be forgotten unless he once again dons the bird suit.
Birdman would have easily worked as a straightforward film about actors and their egos. The excellent performances by basically everyone in a lead or secondary role propel Birdman into "great film" territory. But director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu takes the film to greater heights by boldly (and, I'd argue, masterfully) using elements of magical realism juxtaposed against a filmmaking technique grounded in hyperrealism. Just what the fuck am I talking about? Well, Birdman was shot in such a way that the film appears to be all one continuous take. He didn't actually film it in one take, but there are no cutaways (or, if there were, I missed them) and the camera just keeps moving from scene to scene, often following the actors as they mess around backstage and then move onstage. Of course, the movie itself is two hours long and the plot covers about a week's worth of events, so the lack of cutting is more of a gimmick than an attempt to show the events unfold in real time, but it's truly interesting work.
On top of this, Inarritu injects some fantastical elements. We're introduced to Riggan as he levitates above the ground in lotus position. Moments later, he moves physical objects with his mind like it ain't no thang. As I mentioned above, Riggan is bedeviled by Birdman--both the voice and the physical presence of the iconic superhero. So the audience is left wondering: is he crazy? Is this really happening? Or is this just symbolic?
Personally, I fell on the symbolic side. To me, Riggan hearing the voice of Birdman was akin to being tormented by negative self-talk. And his ability to move things with his mind was a symbol for his need for control. But the movie plays coy about what's actually going on, particularly in the final scene.
I can see how some people would find the lack of scene cuts and the fantasy elements to be pretentious and artsy-fartsy, but I really liked all of it. I feel that Inarritu made a genuine effort to creatively explore the issues mentioned above--validation, ego, aging, and acting--without just being weird for the sake of being weird. But then again, I have a fairly high tolerance for weird, so I may be biased.
Overall, I loved Birdman. I thought it was funny, but also sincere. As I mentioned above, the acting is excellent all around--particularly given that the film pokes fun at actors. It takes balls for an actual "washed up", aging star, as many would consider Keaton to be, to play a washed up, aging star. And Ed Norton delightfully sinks his teeth into the role of a narcissistic, preening actor (the aforementioned erection scene got some of the biggest laughs in the theatre).
Birdman is set to win--or at least be heavy competition for--some Oscars this year, and it is certainly deserving of acclaim. It has the distinction of being weird and entertaining without trying too hard.
A
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