Review: Birdman

Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu

Written by Alejandro González Iñárritu, Nicolás Giacobone, Alexander Dinelaris, and Armando Bo

Starring Michael Keaton (Riggan), Emma Stone (Sam), and Edward Norton (Mike)

Cinematography by Emmanuel Lubezki

Edited by Douglas Crise and Stephen Mirrione

Released in 2014

Birdman alternates between fun and frustration. The short time span and theater setting allow the gifted actors to riff, yell, pontificate, emote, and explode in dizzying succession, making for engaging, sometimes too melodramatic, showcases. While the single long take conceit eventually becomes a little grating, it works well in creating a claustrophobic feel, and Lubezki playfully messes around with shifting color and lighting. Keaton plays his character's at first simmering, then boiling, insanity well. His split personality inner voice, a riff on Christian Bale's Batman growl, is a particular treat.

The problems come when Birdman attempts to criticize modern culture at large. By the end, I felt like I could make a list of things González Iñárritu doesn't like: cell phones, instant messaging, social media, celebrity obsession, superhero movies, and critics. Multiple characters rail against the stupidity of the current state of the world. Judging by Birdman, I'm probably in agreement with González Iñárritu on most of those topics. I've said much the same either online or out loud several times. However, hearing those complaints from established actors in the context of an actual movie comes off as terribly awkward and childish.

Furthermore, Birdman fails to offer an alternative to the loud, empty entertainment it holds in contempt. The film is constantly surging forward. Antonio Sánchez's all-drum score is consant, Lubezki's cinematography barely allows for moments of quiet or reflection, and the acting is pitched so high that the moments of pathos fall flat. It never stops and never grants room for ambiguity or analysis. While it's scope is smaller, in some ways, Birdman is just as superficial as Iron Man 3 and its ilk.

The counter-argument is that everything I just mentioned is meant satirically. That the picture is poking fun at the self-seriousness of theater-types and ego-filled actors. While my opinion on this may change after another viewing, the fact that almost every character has a big, profound speech pushes me to disagree. In addition, there's a moment where Keaton's alter-ego looks directly into the camera, at the audience, and indicts everyone for enjoying big, dumb action flicks. That moment is Birdman in minature: immediately bracing and sometimes funny, but shallow after even a small amount of deliberation.