Michael Keaton
Zach Galifianakis
Edward Norton
Andrea Riseborough
Amy Ryan
Emma Stone
Naomi Watts

Alejandro G. Iñárritu
Nicolás Giacobone
Alexander Dinelaris, Jr.
Armando Bó

119 mins.
Comedy, Drama
November 14, 2014

Rated R for language throughout, some sexual content and brief violence. (MPAA)

If “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)” were a painting, it might be mistaken for a Jackson Pollack piece. Alejandro Gonzáles Iñárritu is the painter here, and he has created some kind of film. I didn’t know what I was watching at first; I’m still not sure. It’s the kind of film that teaches you how to watch it. It made me gasp, laugh, gape, and shake my head – sometimes all during the same scene. It’s a satire, a comedy, and a drama. It has hints of tragedy, too. It echoes previous films and plays, yet manages to be wholly original at the same time. In some ways, it’s like Darren Aronofsky’s “Black Swan,” with its sweeping camera and kinetic energy. Some have compared it to Godard’s works. But that doesn’t quite capture it. I’m at a loss.

At its beginning, we see Michael Keaton’s Riggan Thomson meditating in his dressing room backstage. He’s floating in what looks like the lotus position. Floating. It, along with other similar moments, reminded me of when Jessica Chastain’s character floated outside for no apparent reason in Terrence Malick’s “The Tree of Life” and of the ending of Hal Ashby’s “Being There.” You ask yourself: “Is this real?” As the film progresses, you figure it out; they make it pretty clear later on, if you’re still confused. But the question is: What is reality? If you believe that your experiences are real, then what difference does the actual truth make? This film shuttles back and forth between hyper-reality (a concept that is referenced in The New York Times’ fictional review of the play at the end of the film) and fantasy – magical realism. It flirts with plain-old realism, too.

This is a film that’s ostensibly about the making of a fictional Broadway play that’s based on and named after Raymond Carver’s short story “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.” This film is like a play itself. Much of the dialogue is imitative of the kind of dialogue found in many plays. The long takes highlight that. As for the camera, it closes in on its subjects. It’s like being backstage at a Broadway house. Everything’s crammed in. There are moments when characters thrust themselves into the frame, shocking both the character already in the frame and us – the audience watching the film. The camerawork magnifies each moment. It makes the trivial seem ridiculous, a wondrously effective way to skewer the self-importance of artists.

Artists aren’t the only ones skewered here. Audiences, lawyer-agent-producers, fans, contemporary culture, Broadway, Hollywood, and critics all get their chance at the whipping post. When Emma Stone’s character (Thomson’s daughter) shows Thomson a viral video of him running half-naked through Times Square, she says something like: “This is power.” Lindsay Duncan does a great job as the most influential Broadway critic for The New York Times. She doesn’t have many scenes, but she sure makes them count. She’s a great counterpoint to all of the craziness that swirls around in this film.

Along with the camera, the music helps to propel us into the world of the film. From the beginning, we’re introduced to drum riffs that accent the hyper moments throughout. In addition, there’s orchestral music. There’s even no music at times. Sometimes there’s utter silence – most notably during the shot of the theater’s backstage hallway toward the end of the film. The sounds of a clock and water can be heard in many of the dressing room scenes. It’s the sound of Manhattan, especially the Theater District.

As for the acting, it’s fully committed. There are people like these characters in the worlds of film and theater. With that in mind, I don’t know whether all of this is really hyper-real or not. Keaton flies through the film, sometimes literally, without missing a beat. His voice is as it always has been: strained, gravelly. I couldn’t understand everything he said, but that didn’t bother me. It fit his character, an actor known for playing Birdman in a fictional film trilogy from the early ’90s. The film explores the concept of identity through his character. Does he define Birdman or does it define him? He can’t shake the role, so much so that he hears and sees Birdman (also played by Keaton) wherever he goes. He hallucinates about having Birdman’s superpowers throughout the film.

Edward Norton is spot-on as the method actor of method actors. His life is more real onstage than offstage. He provokes his fellow actors into bringing reality, instead of imagination, onstage. They don’t thank him for it. He is the epitome of narcissism.

Emma Stone and Naomi Watts, who’s the lead actress in the play and Norton’s love interest, deliver strong supporting performances and manage not to be crowded out by Keaton or Norton – no easy task.

Zach Galifianakis is reliably in the moment. He’s perfectly cast as Thompson’s lawyer. Amy Ryan also makes an appearance as Thomson’s ex-wife and the mother of Stone’s character. We all know what she can do, and she doesn’t disappoint, once again.

There are other actors who do wonderful work in bit roles, as well, including Merritt Wever as the stage manager; they all work to create the kind of backstage crew that you would see in any Broadway theater. The entire ensemble moves along like a frenetically multi-layered, yet well-oiled machine. I imagine that you would see something similar backstage at “SNL.”

Now for the script: It’s one of the most crazed pieces of writing that has ever been produced for major theatrical release. I can see why it took four guys to write this. It’s a mix of David Mamet, Samuel Beckett, and Arthur Miller, whose work is reflected in Thomson’s perspective on his failings in life: Is he an updated, comedic version of Willy Loman? After all, Keaton was 63 at the time of this film’s theatrical release – the same age as Willy Loman. As for Beckett’s work, like in “Waiting for Godot,” this film’s ending is unresolved. While “Birdman” has hints of those writers’ works, the end product is definitely its own. Even when it meanders, it works. In a way, frenzied meandering is the engine of the film, and the actors drive it all the way to the end.

As I watched this film, I had a hard time figuring out what my opinion was in the moment or what it was going to be after the film was over. It kept me at a distance during much of its first half – a thoughtful and bemused distance, that is. However, when they got to the first version of the closing scene in the play, about one hour into the film, the film landed for me. Everything clicked into place. In that scene, Thomson’s stage character threatens to shoot his daughter (Watts) and her husband (Norton), then rambles about how he doesn’t even exist (wink, wink). We see this after Norton’s film character tells his girlfriend, Watt’s film character, that he is “hard” and that they should have real sex onstage. Watt’s film character is none too pleased. When Norton gets out of bed onstage, we and the onscreen audience can see that he’s not joking. This is a scene that is absurd, hilarious, and tragic, all at the same time. Watt’s film character really invests in the scene onstage, despite the distractions. It’s a scene that any stage actor would appreciate.

Surprisingly, there were many times when I wanted this film to end. I would think to myself: “Okay Iñárritu, you’ve made your point. Time to end.” But the film, like this review, would keep going. Unexpectedly, that worked. Eventually, it would arrive at a new point when I would again think that it was time to stop, but it would keep going. This film had me on its string, and I like it for that.

Much of it blurs by; you may not even know exactly when things are happening: Is it the same day or not? The timeline spans the preview performances of a Broadway play. The preview period typically lasts two weeks, but we see Thomson sleep only once. This film steps out of time; it’s similar to what it feels like in the lead-up to the opening night of a play in that way. Everything occurs in and around the theater.

By the end of “Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)” (the latter is the title of The Times’ fictional review of the play, by the way), I determined that this was actually a great film, not merely a very good one. It’s far from perfect, but the flaws make it work in a weird sort of way. Iñárritu did a magnificent job of making each scene flow seamlessly into the next, even when the pacing changed – and it changed many times. He’s a mad genius.

I need to see this again.

Verdict: Weirdly Great

About: (Source: foxsearchlight.com/birdman)

BIRDMAN or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance is a black comedy that tells the story of an actor (Michael Keaton) – famous for portraying an iconic superhero – as he struggles to mount a Broadway play.  In the days leading up to opening night, he battles his ego and attempts to recover his family, his career, and himself.