Bird food for the avante-garde set

BIRDMAN OR (THE UNEXPECTED VIRTUE OF IGNORANCE) (2014)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia
Reprinted with Permission by Steel Notes Magazine

Alejandro Inarritu, an overpraised director who was ridiculously bellied up with raves for the limp "Gravity," has concocted another limp film, a vanity project where the director can show off  his technical prowess. Only his endless long takes burden and suffocate the viewer with portentous characters of little draw or joy, save for the stellar work of Michael Keaton and Emma Stone. "Birdman" is virtually long-take porn and a sad sack character study that is more artificial than all of its magical realism gimmicks.

St. James Theatre on Broadway is the setting. Riggan Thomson (Keaton) is the mediocre actor and mediocre star of a movie franchise that made a box-office killing, Birdman. After "Birdman 2," Riggan flew far away from it all and decided he wanted to be taken seriously. Thanks to sage advice from the late author Raymond Carver during Thomson's early days in theatre, he decides to direct, write and act in his own adaptation of Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love," which strikes me as an insufferable bore of a play from a writer I do admire, Carver that is (check out the short stories and the sparkling diamond of a film made from it, "Short Cuts").  Riggan's daughter (Emma Stone) is his indifferent assistant who hates picking out flowers for him and seems to hate him, period. The best scene in the film is the most shockingly honest as Riggan's daughter lays down the truth about his stature as an actor and for having adapted a play that only rich people adore.

Such blazing honesty is missing from the rest of Inarritu's Odyssey of Long Takes. I do admire uninterrupted long takes because, for cinematic purposes, they have a sweeping effect of lifting you from your seats and since the film delves into magical realist elements such as Riggan's imagining himself as a flying bird, and sometimes not imagining himself at all, the technical visual strategy is apropos. But it is at a cost to the dramatic conflicts of its characters because what takes place in front of the camera is often inert. "Birdman" has no real pulse, no blood in it, no passion. It assumes the theatre world is full of arrogant dim bulbs (not unlike Edward Norton's own sendup of himself in the guise of a far too technical actor) and I wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible. Even the New York Times theatre critic (Frank Rich would've conked this woman out in real life) is snobbish and can't be bothered with watching the play before reviewing it - she hates everything Riggan stands for.

Michael Keaton is a solid actor but he often mumbles his way through the proceedings. I never felt connected to him -- Bill Murray would've been a wiser choice to play such a dull actor. That is not to take away from several choice scenes Keaton has to play but he often works best when he is restrained (Check out 1988’s "Clean and Sober" for proof). Although I do admire the in-jokes and the atmosphere, "Birdman" is bird food for the avante-garde set - the poseurs.