An unexpected side effect of desperation - success

Rating: 8/10 (20 January 2015)

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) will be seen by many as an example of art imitating life. Michael Keaton plays Riggan Thomson, a washed up and forgotten Hollywood star years on after his success with the superhero blockbuster trilogy Birdman, some equating this to Keaton's Batman. However, this is irrelevant in judging the merits of the movie itself.
The clash of theatre vs. Hollywood and art vs. meaningless blockbuster trash is a very prominent theme within the movie but one must be careful not to immediately place them in a dichotomy as renowned theatre critic Tabitha Dickinson (Lindsay Duncan) does to Keaton's revival, a play he directs, writes and stars in. The same dichotomy is evident in Riggan's mind right from the word go; the menacing voice-over questions his life with "How did we end up here?".
It's a few minutes into the film that we then learn his full head of hair is nothing but a wig, and that the voice belongs to the ever present persona of Birdman, the manifestation of Riggan's niggling self doubt at his attempts to become more than just a movie star. While impressively visceral, it may be interesting to study whether the removal of the voice-over would benefit the characterisation of Riggan, maybe magnifying his emotional breakdown mid-film where he talks over the Birdman persona and trashes his dressing room over the loss of control of his play. Nevertheless, later when Birdman physically manifests on screen within Riggan's mind, it is a majestic display. The one-take illusion of the film's cinematography means the film takes place in mostly cramped back-stages and rooms for the first two thirds, only relishing in wide angles and dynamic crane shots to showcase Riggan's acceptance of Birdman as he soars above and around New York. It is also one of the rare times the score deviates from the sporadic crescendo of the drums for a melodramatic orchestral piece that would not sound out of place at the close of a romcom or family film.
Emmanuel Lubezki's work in digitally weaving together separate takes to form the illusion of a single continuous take has had mixed reactions. Some have derided it as nothing more than a gimmick and adding nothing of value to the film. The choice to express every scene in this way makes way for some interesting decisions in terms of camera movement. In one particularly gripping scene, Riggan stumbles upon her daughter Sam (Emma Stone), recently out of rehab, and smells pot. The conversation descends into a vehement and biting rant on the futility of her fathers ambitions and career, perhaps one of Stone's finest performances. Yet one might wonder the difference had the camera chosen to instead focus on Riggan's reaction instead. Nevertheless both actors demand the attention of the camera throughout the film. The look of regret upon Sams face moments afterwards is telling.
In another pivotal scene, Riggan's character within his play, Mel, is giving a passionate monologue on the ideal of love using the example of an elderly couple involved in a car crash. Mel rises from the table and takes centre-stage in an almost over-extravagant manner, the shot cutting out the three other characters in the play. It's a clear stylistic choice by Riggan to push his acting stock and showcase his own talent, much in the same way that the tacked on ending of the suicide of Mel is. Riggan takes quite a few liberties in his stage adaptation of Raymond Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love". Finally, the one-take illusion allows (or confines, if you prefer) the scenes of Riggan walking backstage to straight, eye levels shots of the long corridors. Naturally then, when Riggan speeds up the camera also speeds up, working in conjunction with the beats of the snare drum to build dramatic tension.
Opposite Riggan is the arguably even more egotistical Broadway actor in Mike (Edward Norton), who portrays a version of the extremely dedicated method actor, often the source of the black comedy's sparse humour with the lengths he goes to achieve realism on the stage. When an unexpected erection interrupts his bedroom performance during a preview, the audience laughs along with those in the real world. Mike's antics constantly clash with Riggan's play and his vision. He lambasts the appearance of the prop guns, and demands to consume real gin on stage, yet brings much needed popularity and audiences to the play. Riggan's conflict is clear; he desires the fame and success of Mike, yet cannot be taken seriously within the theatre world with his Hollywood past. Norton plays the part to perfection, as a cocky, confident and sometimes pretentious thorn in Riggan's backside, flaunting his easy hold over the critics.
Birdman is not without its flaws. The sideplot of Riggan and his partner (also fellow actor) Laura feels like excess and underdeveloped. This results in a very forced and shoehorned lesbian scene between Laura and the fourth star of the play Lesley (Naomi Watts) which hints at the broken relationship of Riggan and Laura, then is immediately dismissed. Riggan and Sam's backstory is developed through exposition via ex-wife Sylvia, and therefore unfolds in an uneven manner from conflict to comfort, seemingly skipping whole swathes of conversation. The whole concept of the title 'the virtue of ignorance' is discussed briefly from a newspaper and comes off as a rather empty justification for Riggan's 'ultra realism' and his final actions. The ending is a interesting matter of interpretation. For me, it's a billboard of Riggan Sam is smiling at, a true sign of his eventual success removed from Birdman. His career is taking new flight. Or maybe the whole scene, including the symbolic removal of the mask/bandages is a daydream of a happy man in a hospital bed.
For the record, I thought Keaton was hilarious in The Other Guys.