I've spent three days puzzling Birdman (2014), a deceptively complex movie. Credit director-cowriter Alejandro González Iñárritu for crafting something distinct. In its cleverness and impassioned direction, Birdman's far more than its synopsis suggests.Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) is a washed-up movie star unable to escape Birdman, a superhero role that made him famous. Desperate to revive his career, Riggan directs and stars in a Broadway adaptation of Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. His production hits numerous snags: a co-star's (Jeremy Shamos) maimed in a freak accident, replacement Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) is an insatiable prima donna; Riggan experiences tension with daughter Sam (Emma Stone) and girlfriend Laura (Andrea Riseborough). Worse, Riggan's haunted by his Birdman alter ego, who taunts him about past success and current failures.
On paper, Birdman's a trite show biz satire. Inarritu's story hits notes familiar since 42nd Street and All About Eve: backstabbing supporting actors, ego clashes, sexual tension, surprise acclaim. The characters are familiar archetypes, mixed with cliches like a backstage romance and Riggan's take-down of a stuffy critic (Lindsay Duncan). Even the climax is so heavily telegraphed as to neuter its impact. Thank God Birdman transcends these handicaps through brilliant presentation.
From the earliest frames, Inarritu's aggressive direction overpowers the audience. Emmanuel Lubezki's camera prowls through hallways and corridors in marvelous, absorptive long takes while characters trade barbs and Antonio Sanchez's drum score disorients us. Birdman explodes from mundanity into expansive set pieces, each fouled-up performance turning into a shouting match, an onstage rape, culminating in Riggan running through Times Square half-naked. Even in its weaker moments, Birdman feels remarkably vivid and alive.
Michael Keaton provides excellent meta-casting, but it's not really instructive to see Riggan-as-Keaton. Keaton seems a pretty together guy, while Riggan's anything but. He's the wannabe artist who idolizes Raymond Carver, yet is still recognized for a paycheck role. Fans crowd him on the street while ignoring Shiner, a far better actor. His alter ego tempts him with renewed fame, yet Riggan's life everywhere evinces its downside: daughter Sam, neglected by Riggan and a recovering addict; Sylvia (Amy Ryan), his patient ex-wife. Yet art only brings suffering and scorn; labeled a mere "star," no one takes him seriously.
Keaton pours everything into Riggan. Even sans Birdman's taunting, Keaton makes him a nervous wreck, funny, pathetic and occasionally terrifying. Yet he earns our respect through more subdued scenes (namely two great scenes with Sam) and occasional flashes of brilliance. This is a full-bodied performance, running from frothing ham to ridiculous clown to introspective. Keaton fits each disparate part into a consistent, full-blooded characterization. Bravo!
Edward Norton gives his best performance in years, channeling manic self-awareness into a perversely likeable jerk. Naomi Watts matches Norton as Mike's frustrated girlfriend/costar, while Andrea Riseborough does well with an underwritten character. Emma Stone gets the meatiest dialogue, making Sam angrily burnt-out yet sympathetic. Zack Galifianakis does brilliant work in the straight man role. Only Amy Ryan and Lindsay Duncan clunk in one-dimensional supporting roles.
Birdman's cleverness should survive repeat viewings. We've seen the plot before, while the twists aren't exactly shocking. But we haven't seen Inarritu's breathtaking, bravura direction, the raw, snappy dialogue, the utter cacophonous in many other movies.
