Birdman

It’s been a few years since this came out and proved an unexpected Oscar darling, but I felt like watching some kind of subversion or parody of superhero movies and remembered this. Though there’s an element of superhero parody, especially with one glorious scene late in the film, actually this is much less about movie-making and far more about the entertainment industry as a whole.

The story is quite a simple one. An actor whose star has faded named Riggan wants to be taken seriously as a creative force, so is putting on an adaptation of a Raymond Carver story on Broadway. When he decides his co-star is terrible and an opportunity arises to replace him, one of the play’s actors offers to bring in her boyfriend, who is a highly respected method actor. A series of disasters in the previews and escalating conflicts with the other actors and family members he’s surrounded himself with lead to Riggan’s perception of reality getting increasingly warped.

Through these interpersonal conflicts, various themes get explored – high art versus mass entertainment; personal pride and insecurity; how to bring life meaning and the euphoria of performance; old-school fame through a series of gatekeepers versus social media and going viral by chance. It’s a thoroughly modern, thoughtful script aware of the past while looking at changes the world is going through, and tapping into the fashion for superhero movies was a great relevant choice.

There are a few things that annoyed me here. Mostly I thought the dialogue was great, but there was a bit too much of people walking around talking to each other about profound metaphysical conundrums or huge relationship problems, which even in the world of theatrical luvvies was a stretch. There was just too much soul-bearing without the counterbalance of normal conversation that suggests this isn’t just how they always communicate – which would be totally unsustainable. There was also a bit too much focus on the gimmick of simulating one long uninterrupted shot, which let’s face it isn’t anything new and without considering reel-change cuts has been done since Hitchcock. Some parts, like temporal transitions, really might as well have been cuts and just hurt immersion.

But what was good about this film massively outweighed what didn’t work. The biggest triumph here is the performances, especially the interactions between Michael Keaton and Edward Norton, which are tempestuous, brutal but most of all believable. All the actors here have to show great versatility – the characters all act, put on a façade for others and show the naked truth by turns and all of them pitch it so well. The stakes for a small circle of people with backgrounds that are pretty difficult to identify with over the course of just a few nights really feel significant.

The music is great, too. We basically get a jazz drum solo for the vast majority of the film, for all the original music. It’s a great sizzling jazz kit that at times gives a cool driving rhythm, at time a pounding, rattling, anxious beat that heightens the sense of paranoia, and at other times simply underpins the action and gives a sense of impetus in a film made largely without cuts.

Two things carry this movie. First, the fantastic multifaceted performances. Second, the play-like attention to characterisation, crisis and breakdown. This is dusted by interesting musical experimentation, some grimly comic moments and some great nods to the simple, addictive fun of Hollywood. Really fun to watch, though I would add not quite as clever as it seems to think it is.