*****
Bravura
film-maker Alejandro González Iñárritu is not an obvious
fit for comedy. However, Birdman is not obviously comedic. In this, his fifth
feature, the director follows the palpably-dark Amores Perros, 21 Grams, Babel and Biutiful with something completely different.
Riggan
Thomson (Michael Keaton) is a washed-up Hollywood actor famed for playing the
titular Birdman in a successful superhero franchise. Desperate for credibility
he mounts a Broadway production of a Raymond Carver story, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Writing, producing and
directing duties - while also starring in the play - means biting off a little
bit more than he can chew. A post-rehab daughter assistant (Emma Stone), a
difficult co-star (Edward Norton) and a vicious theatre critic (Lindsey Duncan)
all help send Riggan into a downward spiral. And I haven’t even mentioned that voice
in his head. His disastrous previews, building up to the night’s opening, result
in meltdown.
Stylistically,
the film rests on one breath-taking central device: it is, effectively, done in
one take. It’s not, of course. The magic of today’s technology means the
director could fake it. But then Hitchcock didn’t really shoot Rope in one take either. My point being
that even with the trickery this is still muscular film-making from Iñárritu.
The long takes are extraordinary. Considerable
chunks of plot occur within them, pushing the action forward at speed. Incredible
technical precision from the actors was required to make it work and everyone
one of them delivers convincing performances.
As
an actor of some worth (one of whom this reviewer is rather fond) and having
donned Batman’s cape and tights, Michael Keaton’s casting is both perfect and deliciously
post-modern. Edward Norton is a wonderful nemesis – a nightmarish embodiment of
an actor at their worst. In terms of humanity, that is. His acting is good, his
personality is not. Zack Galifianakis reins in his comic chops to good effect. Brit
actress Andrea Risborough proves further mettle, Naomi Watts displays
incredible vulnerability and Emma Stone delivers an absurdly mature performance
for one so young.
The
film is underpinned by a radical, percussive score from Antonio Sanchez. The jazz-style
use of only drums and cymbals provides an erratic heartbeat for the film,
emphasising Riggan’s increasing levels of anxiety.
Co-writing duties (which helped him, deservedly, win a Golden
Globe on Sunday) demonstrate Alejandro González Iñárritu's entrenchment in this work. He's delivered an
uncompromising work that's fantastically bonkers. I'm not sure I fully
understood it in the end but I still loved every bit of it. Make sure you catch
it on the big screen.
