"Popularity is the slutty little cousin of prestige."

Rating: 8/10 (16 January 2015)

In Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Michael Keaton plays former blockbuster movie star Riggan Thomson – remembered best for portraying comic book hero Birdman on the big screen (back in the 1990s). Fast forward two decades and Thomson is no longer a hot Hollywood commodity. Broke, separated from his wife (Amy Ryan), estranged from his rebellious daughter (Emma Stone), and forgotten by his once adoring fans, Thomson sets out to prove that he's not just a washed up hack – opting to write, direct, and star in a Broadway show based on the Raymond Carver story "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love".
However, when Thomson is unhappy with the actor cast as Nick in the production (Jeremy Shamos), he makes a last minute replacement – auditioning critically acclaimed stage performer Mike Shiner (Edward Norton) to take over the part. Impressed by Shiner's sincerity (and method acting approach), Thomson hires the quirky thespian less than 24 hours prior to the first preview performance of What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. However, when Shiner makes a scene during his first public rehearsal, Thomson is thrown into a spiral of self-doubt and fear – second-guessing his own talent, personal relationships, career choices, and begging the question: will audiences even be willing to love him again?
Birdman was written and directed by Mexican filmmaker Alejandro González Iñárritu. He's made a film that's both technically astounding yet emotionally rich, intimate yet enormous, biting yet warm, satirical yet sweet. It's also the first time that Inarritu,actually seems to be having some fun.
Birdman" is a complete blast from start to finish. The gimmick here–and it's a doozy, and it works beautifully–is that Iñárritu has created the sensation that you are watching a two-hour film shot all in one take. Working with the brilliant and inventive cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, Iñárritu has constructed the most delicate and dazzling high-wire act.
Through impossibly long, intricately choreographed tracking shots, the camera swoops through narrow corridors, up and down tight stairways and into crowded streets. It comes in close for quiet conversations and soars between skyscrapers for magical-realism flights of fancy. A percussive and propulsive score from Antonio Sanchez, heavy on drums and cymbals, maintains a jazzy, edgy vibe throughout. Sure, you can look closely to find where the cuts probably happened, but that takes much of the enjoyment out of it. Succumbing to the thrill of the experience is the whole point.
The actual story is focused on more personal matters: troubled relationships, artistic integrity, Broadway versus Hollywood, and the true definition of love. Birdman is about a father, husband, lover, business partner, and actor – not a superhero. Instead of an active plot point, Birdman is a shadowy figure from Thomson's past – one that, above all else, haunts him (as a voice to his self-loathing). He's a shoulder devil, rarely seen but a gripping source of temptation and self- destruction when the actor is vulnerable. The interplay between Thomson and Birdman charts a journey of risk and rejection - along with the pitfalls that accompany personal ambition and sincere attempts at artistry.
Iñárritu has produced an arresting tale of love and art in a time of viral videos and celebrity gossip columns but, in spite of the film's achievements, Birdman is not going to be for everyone. Potential viewers who are hoping for a lighthearted riff on comic book movie culture – where Keaton suits up (again) for action will probably be surprised, and possibly put-off by Iñárritu's contemplative and layered black dramedy. Nevertheless, those open to the film's experimental style will find Birdman provides a thought-provoking and inventive exploration of artistry, family, the difference between power, popularity, and prestige – not to mention what we talk about when we talk about love.