"Birdman," Where Fame Stifles Hopes and Dreams

Teetering between sanity and insanity, I am trying to decide whether Birdman was the most genius thing I have ever seen this year, or the most ridiculous. Was this film some uncanny way to capture life as it is today, or was it Michael Keaton’s schizophrenic break on screen? Equipped with rambunctious drum solos and daring cinematography, Birdman allows us to explore the life of fame in a different light and through mediums that we have come to love and treasure so much.

Opening up to jellyfish and the swish of the sea tide, we are instantly snapped to the cramp, out of date stylings of St. James Theatre in the theatre district of New York City. From here, director Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritu takes us on a wild journey of human emotion and how dire the need for attention is to the human being. Iñarritu’s talent with a camera shines its absolute brightest with long tracking shots through twisty turny hallways of St. James. The shots are designed perfectly, placing us in every character’s head, getting a first hand look at what they see. If Iñarritu is trying to get us to walk a mile in someone’s shoes, he has successfully done it here. Delighting us with extreme close ups, we are given a front row seat to all the ugly that human emotion can show us; and it is illuminating, painful, and real.

Though the cinematography is brilliant and artistic, the screenwriting is subpar. The story is lost through a slew of curse words that made me feel like I was talking to a twenty year old at a bar. We get it, these characters are pissed. They want to be noticed. They want to make a name for themselves. The vile language doesn’t make me feel your pain any less or more, and honestly took away from the colorfulness of the characters. It made me forget that these characters were grown adults, with jobs. And maybe that was the point.

What made this film earth-shatteringly profound for me was its in your face message to society today. It plays with the idea of fame and notoriety like putty in its hands. It plays with the idea of how we all long for it. Aim for it. Do wild things for it. And in the end, how it eats away at us. Chews us up and spits us out. We all want to be famous. That’s why we all write, tweet, blog, Instagram, and share every little detail of our lives with the world. 

Enter Sam. Played by the wonderfully talented Emma Stone, Sam represents everything Riggan Thomas (Keaton) can’t be: calm, cool, and collected (somewhat). Sam is our generation; the young twenty to thirty year olds snapping selfies and swapping mindless thoughts through social media. Her understanding of our life is harrowing and eye-opening. Thomas, on the other hand, has lost touch with reality. He struggles to understand the way art, film and theatre work today. He longs for the same fame he once had as “Birdman”, but has no clue how to achieve such prominence again. Going back to what inspired him to be an actor in the first place, he hopes to find what he is missing, only to be slapped in the face when he finally gains his stardom through the minutiae of social medium and crazy stunts. Birdman’s look into celebrity and the idea of becoming a star is intriguing and enlightening.

I could not help but get a laugh or two from the consistent and rowdy jazz drum that was used throughout the film as score. Somewhat distracting, I thought it was an interesting example of the human psyche. Jazz music can often be bumpy, sporadic and all over the place. Thomas’ mind and thoughts throughout the film are scattered and fantastical, sometimes catching him flying around New York City or throwing objects with the flick of a finger. The jazz music can be annoying at times, taking away again from the story and the script, but it does give us another opportunity to walk in the characters shoe’s.

Keaton, Stone, and Edward Norton, who plays Mike Shiner, all deliver wonderfully reckless performances. Keaton, trying to make the comeback of the decade, loses me at some points. He in no one stunned me like Eddie Redmayne’s performance in The Theory of Everything and makes me question The Academy’s desire to nominate him for Best Actor. His performance is almost too exotic, and at times unbelievable. Stone and Norton steal the show, giving us characters that make us question life and the meaning of it. They are full of anguish, and are spiteful and mean to the point where their dialogue is so delicious you want to sink your teeth into it. I basked in the few moments we shared with them and drank it up like sunlight on a cold winter day.

Birdman was in no way revolutionary. Lost through the cacophonous drums and poor language, Iñarritu’s cinematography managed to shine through, giving us some respite. And though the premise and idea was there, my mind was too busy playing catch up with all the oddities that at some point, I just gave up and hoped for the film to be done so I could head home to my bed. I do appreciate the interesting take on fame though. I think I will go tweet about it now.