Alejandro Gonzalez Inarittu’s wondrous ode to the joys of magic realism, the need to keep tilting at windmills, and the cinema of Robert Altman opens with an apparent one-shot sequence of several minutes that keeps whirling and swirling about in a hypnotic fashion.
Shot by ace cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) packs in more themes than has been permissible in mainstream Hollywood cinema in years – the messy and unsettling nature of creativity, the passage of time, the thin line between reality and artifice, the merits of improvisation versus preparedness, the role of establishment criticism, the perils of instant opinion in the age of Facebook and Twitter, and the quest for legitimacy in a world that rewards tentpole cinema with money but reserves its respect for so-called serious works of art.
Inarittu, the director of such gems as Amores Perros and Biutful, commands this maelstrom with wit and immense affection for his memorable cast of characters, creating the kind of experience that goes by the cliché “pure cinema”.
A non-stop dance of emotions
Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) is still hounded for autographs for having played the superhero Birdman for the bulk of his career, but he craves respect and throws precious money at a Broadway production of Raymond Carver’s short story What Do We Talk About When We Talk About Love. The cast includes the self-regarding and attention-seeking Method actor Mike (Edward Norton). There’s also Naomi Watts’s Lesley, similarly seeking credibility on the stage, Riggan’s girlfriend Laura (Andrea Riseborough), his recovering drug addict daughter Sam (Emma Stone), his harried manager Jake (Zach Galifianakis), ex-wife Sylvia (Amy Ryan), and the Birdman himself, whose voice echoes in Riggan’s head and who physically appears to torment him when the play looks like it’s going to be booed off the stage.
There’s also an unseen character: Lubezki’s restless and non-stop camera, which convincingly creates the illusion of lengthy, uninterrupted and fabulously choreographed takes that segue uncut from one sequence to the next just as in a play, all set to a drum-based background score. (The cuts were actually cleverly designed to create this illusion.) The darkly comic screenplay is designed as journeys in and around the various alleyways of the theatre in which Riggan’s play is being staged. The technique brings to mind Robert Altman’s own wondrous ensemble productions, where several actions took place at the same time, and specifically his Nashville and The Company, which detail the agonies and ecstasies of the creative process.
Except for a short foray into mawkishness, Birdman is seamless, moving through an astonishing array of sets and situations. The standouts in the superb cast are Norton, as the egotistical performer, and Stone as the wise-beyond-her-years daughter who is washed up as her father.
Keaton’s casting is no coincidence. The quirky actor’s most well-known mainstream roles were as Batman in Tim Burton’s two contributions to the franchise in 1989 and 1992. Keaton is the most oddball of all the Hollywood actors to have donned the Batsuit. Birdman is a reminder of Keaton’s fearlessness and his ability to jump from magic realism in one moment to pathos in the next. Riggan imagines that he has telekinetic powers to control the objects around him. People and emotions prove to be far more difficult. Among the movie’s best scenes is the one of Riggan’s wild run in his underwear through the fluorescent gaudiness of New York City’s Times Square as he attempts to flee the ghosts of his past and grasp the windmills that beckon him just beyond.
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Shot by ace cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) packs in more themes than has been permissible in mainstream Hollywood cinema in years – the messy and unsettling nature of creativity, the passage of time, the thin line between reality and artifice, the merits of improvisation versus preparedness, the role of establishment criticism, the perils of instant opinion in the age of Facebook and Twitter, and the quest for legitimacy in a world that rewards tentpole cinema with money but reserves its respect for so-called serious works of art.
Inarittu, the director of such gems as Amores Perros and Biutful, commands this maelstrom with wit and immense affection for his memorable cast of characters, creating the kind of experience that goes by the cliché “pure cinema”.
A non-stop dance of emotions
Riggan Thomson (Michael Keaton) is still hounded for autographs for having played the superhero Birdman for the bulk of his career, but he craves respect and throws precious money at a Broadway production of Raymond Carver’s short story What Do We Talk About When We Talk About Love. The cast includes the self-regarding and attention-seeking Method actor Mike (Edward Norton). There’s also Naomi Watts’s Lesley, similarly seeking credibility on the stage, Riggan’s girlfriend Laura (Andrea Riseborough), his recovering drug addict daughter Sam (Emma Stone), his harried manager Jake (Zach Galifianakis), ex-wife Sylvia (Amy Ryan), and the Birdman himself, whose voice echoes in Riggan’s head and who physically appears to torment him when the play looks like it’s going to be booed off the stage.
There’s also an unseen character: Lubezki’s restless and non-stop camera, which convincingly creates the illusion of lengthy, uninterrupted and fabulously choreographed takes that segue uncut from one sequence to the next just as in a play, all set to a drum-based background score. (The cuts were actually cleverly designed to create this illusion.) The darkly comic screenplay is designed as journeys in and around the various alleyways of the theatre in which Riggan’s play is being staged. The technique brings to mind Robert Altman’s own wondrous ensemble productions, where several actions took place at the same time, and specifically his Nashville and The Company, which detail the agonies and ecstasies of the creative process.
Except for a short foray into mawkishness, Birdman is seamless, moving through an astonishing array of sets and situations. The standouts in the superb cast are Norton, as the egotistical performer, and Stone as the wise-beyond-her-years daughter who is washed up as her father.
Keaton’s casting is no coincidence. The quirky actor’s most well-known mainstream roles were as Batman in Tim Burton’s two contributions to the franchise in 1989 and 1992. Keaton is the most oddball of all the Hollywood actors to have donned the Batsuit. Birdman is a reminder of Keaton’s fearlessness and his ability to jump from magic realism in one moment to pathos in the next. Riggan imagines that he has telekinetic powers to control the objects around him. People and emotions prove to be far more difficult. Among the movie’s best scenes is the one of Riggan’s wild run in his underwear through the fluorescent gaudiness of New York City’s Times Square as he attempts to flee the ghosts of his past and grasp the windmills that beckon him just beyond.