It is of course tempting, if a bit too facile, to construct a
comparison between the situation in “Birdman” and the realities of Michael
Keaton’s career. He began performing as a comic, then as an actor in some
entertaining film comedies — “Night Shift,” “Johnny Dangerously,” and “Mr.
Mom,” for example — then achieved great success in the first of the revamped
Batman movie franchise way back in 1989. After two stints in the bat suit, he
made some odd choices — a villain in “Pacific Heights,” a supporting part in
“Jackie Brown,” and weirdly, the title character in the ridiculous “Jack Frost”
(he must have been desperate at that point).
In “Birdman,” he plays Riggan, an actor identified with
another costumed superhero, the Birdman of the title, now trying to reinvent
himself as a serious dramatic artist by directing and appearing in a Broadway
play he has written, based on the work of Raymond Carver. An angry, difficult personality, literally
haunted by the costumed character he played, Riggan frequently hears the voice
of his alter ego, taunting him, urging him to return to the part that made him
famous, sapping his will and his confidence. He also faces a number of
reminders of his personal failures, from his ex-wife, his girlfriend, and his
daughter.
The rehearsals for his play go badly, engaging most of his
energy and providing most of his frustration, all made worse by an injury to
one of the principal actors. The situation changes when Lesley (Naomi Watts),
the female lead, convinces him to use her boyfriend Mike (Edward Norton), a
talented actor almost as neurotic as Riggan. In one of the best moments in the
film, Mike begins his work by giving Riggan an acting lesson, showing him to
improve some of his dialogue and how to play a particular scene.
That scene in fact emphasizes the movie’s major subject, the
whole difficult, complicated, crazy profession of acting. The characters constantly
discuss their attitudes toward the art, several of them frequently berate
Riggan about his ego, his selfishness, his ambition to resurrect his career;
Norton, moreover, states, and demonstrates by attempting actual sex on stage,
that life is pretending and acting is reality. A nasty drama critic for the New
York Times dismisses Riggan as a celebrity rather than an actor, and though she
vows never to read or see the work, promises to write a review that will
destroy the play and its writer-director-star.
The movie follows a strange visual pattern that mixes in a number of oddly assorted elements. The director depends heavily on the
Steadicam, following each of the major characters in long tracking shots, in
continuous takes, down the narrow, winding corridors backstage. He alternates that technique with frequent
two-character shots, often in close-ups, with the actors, particularly Norton
and Keaton, mostly arguing fiercely about the play and the art of the stage
itself.
Some of the sequences suggest moments of strangely comic
surrealism, with Keaton, locked out of the theater, jogging through Times
Square in his underwear, followed by a crowd of tourists and fans, and then
running up to the stage just in time to do his scene. The director throws in a moment of a drum
band playing in Times Square, then on the stage, with a character dressed as
Spider-Man jumping around. He also indulges in some wilder fantasy, showing
Riggan joining the Birdman in a flight through Manhattan, then ends the movie on
a most ambiguous note that brings in the title character all over again.
Whether appropriately or not for an actor’s movie all about
acting, “Birdman” tends to allow its performers to soar too far over the top,
with the players mistaking shouting for emotional intensity, too often simply
repeating themselves in scenes that also repeat themselves. Playing a very different character from any
he’s done before, Michael Keaton best shows his abilities when playing the characters
in the play within the movie. Edward Norton, not surprisingly, inhabits the
most interesting personality in the film, the person who personifies the
Birdman’s aspirations, who demonstrates some of the differences between the
Hollywood star and the Broadway actor, an appropriate foil, even the perfect
antagonist for the protagonist, teaching the Birdman how to fly.
This article appears in Oct 29 – Nov 4, 2014.
