Birdman
Regie:
Alejandro González IñárrituCamera:
Emmanuel LubezkiMuziek:
Antonio SanchezActeurs:
Michael Keaton, Emma Stone, Zach Galifianakis, Naomi Watts, Jeremy Shamos, Andrea Riseborough, Damian Young, Natalie Gold, Merritt Wever, Edward Norton (meer)Streaming (3)
Samenvattingen(1)
Birdman vertelt het verhaal van acteur Riggan Thomson. Ooit wereldberoemd door zijn rol als een iconische superheld, nu worstelt hij met een toneelstuk op Broadway. In de aanloop naar de première gaat hij de strijd aan met zijn ego en probeert hij zijn familie, zij carrière en zichzelf weer op de rails te krijgen. (20th Century Fox)
Recensie (26)
Birdman has a Woody Allen-esque theme and environment conveyed by the unique optics of Lubezki’s long shots, but without Woody’s wit and detached perspective and with irritating jazz disharmony. An occasional good scene (Times Square in boxer shorts, waking up on the sidewalk), some occasional good dialogue (Emma Stone and Edward Norton on the roof) and always great actors. But for an uplifting “artistic” experience, this portrait of a mid-life crisis and creative burnout is not enough for me.
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I know of better films about the plight of acting while paying homage to the work of the theatre. This is nothing but an attempt at an artsy film of the European kind, but by an established Hollywood filmmaker, where the supposedly uninterrupted narrative (achieved, of course, by flawless digital effects) is only a mannerism, like Edward Norton's repeatedly discussed hardened penis. It didn't touch me, not at all, neither mentally nor emotionally. The only exception is the scene of the emotionally strained conversation with a theatre critic about the nature of professional criticism and then Birdman's words about the vapid taste of the average dimwitted viewer, which I would chisel in stone. Of course, I would wish the Oscar to the phenomenal Michael Keaton with all my heart, if only because he is such a likeable guy and his life's fate is a bit like Riggan's.
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With my minority opinion, I will probably be as unpopular as the theatre critic in the film, who was peculiarly the only character who managed to express the problem with the main character and, inadvertently, with the film as a whole. Just as Riggan longs to be an actor while being merely a celebrity, Birdman wants to be art while being merely commercialism. If the film (like Riggan) had not pretended to be something that it’s not and had instead acknowledged what it really is, I believe it would have actually ranked among the year’s best films. It is held down by the weaknesses of Iñárritu's preceding filmography – forced metaphysical layers, banal moralising and sadistic enjoyment of the characters’ suffering. Unlike 21 Grams and Babel, however, Birdman thankfully is not devoid of humour. Though the lumbering dialogue is in most cases eventually cut off by an inappropriate gesture or remark (Mike’s heart-rending monologue on the roof, Riggan’s use of self-therapy toilet paper), the further development of the narrative gives the grand speeches meaning. Besides the fact that Birdman is populated with eccentric characters and exaggerated gestures of the actors, the film itself is a boldly grand gesture in terms of its form. Creating the illusion of an uninterrupted flow of shots smacks of the similar self-centeredness and extravagance that typify most of the characters, while at the same time serving to thematise the dichotomy between film and theatre (where there is also no editing) and between the worlds of reality and fiction. The problem with these oppositions is that the film denies them with its permanently exaggerated fictional world. Throughout the film, everyone behaves as if they were actors in a grand theatrical performance. They act theatrically, behave in a curt manner (especially the offensively one-dimensional female characters, who serve primarily to highlight the talents of the strong men) and constantly verbalise their inner thoughts out loud, and their precise entries into the scene at the exact moment when the actor we have been watching has nothing to say and needs to react to someone betray the stage-managed nature of the film. When everything looks like a play, it is impossible to determine where (in the context of the fictional world) lies the boundary beyond which begins the imaginary reality inhabited by real people with real emotions. I understand that the blurring of that dividing line is one of the central motifs of the film, but if the line is blurred from the beginning, the contrast doesn’t work and there can be no development along that line. I don’t deny that Birdman is a remarkable piece of work. Perhaps I will gladly watch it again so that I can fully appreciate the dramaturgical segmentation of the outwardly uninterrupted narrative, but if I want to see a film whose main subject and quality are the actors, I would rather re-watch Cassavetes’s honest and unaffected Opening Night. Three stars for emotion, five for technique. 75%
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What an amazing film experience! Birdman is a sad story about a broken man who longs for the recognition he will never receive. So, basically, your typical Iñarritú’s downer, but this time wrapped in a very refreshing and energetic format. We can debate about the ending, and I’m going to write my opinion on it (spoiler!), so if you haven’t watched the film yet, stop reading now! The entire film is about Riggan trying to gain recognition and long lost glory. He’s convinced that he has abilities that those around him don’t appreciate. He’s not so much after inner artistic expression, he simply wants his play to be successful. When he realises that an unlikeable and influential critic will bury his play at any cost, he attempts to “buy” its success with one last desperate idea: suicide on stage, but not a real suicide – that would simply kill him. With manifest and embarrassingly vulgar gestures he tries to give the aura of an artist who has put at stake his life for his work. Cheap attraction, action, people want to see blood, they are used to it from mainstream movies. The audience applauds, the critic leaves in disgust because Riggan did exactly what she was expecting, maybe even worse. And Riggan dies, because when someone puts a gun to their head and shoots, they usually die. This is followed by a montage (!) and the epilogue. Thus far, the film pretended to be shot in a single take, even if it jumps in time and space, or when we follow the real Riggan or his hallucination. Since the epilogue is separated by the montage, it should make some sense that what we are watching is something different than we’ve been watching so far. It can’t be an alive Riggan, nor can it be what an alive Riggan is imagining while doing something else. To me it’s just an image of how Riggan would have liked his suicide-as-manifesto to ideally work out: a) he doesn’t die: b) the stunned critic writes a positive review, even though she said she would never do it; c) people are interested in him again; d) his daughter acknowledges what he has within himself and his miraculous abilities (the final look upwards). (End of spoilers). So, as I say, quite a downer, but I’m sure other people can have a different opinion. And that’s what’s so great about it.
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The creative pose, unmasked by the unique technical possibilities of the film medium, flirting with the European arthouse, is about to divide the audience in 3, 2, 1...
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Watching Birdman was very hard for me. In fact, it took me about the first twenty minutes to even figure out what I was watching. After those twenty minutes, I still wasn’t quite sure what was reality and what was fiction, but at least I was beginning to notice the outrageously perfect camera that shot everything without me feeling any cuts in the scene. Some moments were absolutely divine, and it seemed to me as if some of the actors were having endless dialogues, in which I wondered how they were able to remember so many lines. And since I doubt they remembered them by heart, I bow down before their perfect improvisation abilities. Whatever else could be said about it, this film will show you that Michael Keaton, Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Naomi Watts and Zach Galifianakis can act like gods. I perceive this film a bit as a celebration of acting, but it also contains a feel of a certain ignorance and contempt for Hollywood. Everyone seems spell-bound by some kind of an oracle who knows everyone and makes them appear on the screen to justify themselves. Thus we see Michael Keaton making fun of superheroes despite playing one. When Edward Norton appears on the stage, he immediately starts to give everyone orders. Zach Galifianakis is unusually serious here and Emma Stone has a few dialogues that will take your breath away. Birdman is an incredibly strange film. Distinctive, never boring during its two-hour running time and definitely worth remembering. It’s not for everyone, but whoever wants to give it their attention will undoubtedly enjoy this movie full of well-made shots. And will fall madly in love with at least a few of its actors.
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More volatile and evasive than complex and layered, more rhetorical than intrinsically convincing, more caricatured than sharply reflective. For me, Birdman is a film full of unbearable contradictions, unshaded creative gestures and narcissistic affection in the quite primitive case histories of its creators / artists / critics. The film creates the impression of sophistication by gliding gracefully from topic to topic, from phrase to phrase, and rarely gets under the skin of (not only) Broadway illusion. I could let myself get drunk on it in silence if the transitions between worlds (reality / theater / scene / backstage / interior / exterior / subjective / objective) provided a clever commentary, a surprising change in perspective, and a significant emotional impact. But from beginning to end, Birdman looks like transparent theater - sometimes (praise god) funny, but mostly only fanfare showing off its own erection. I agree with Matty's observation about the blurring of dividing storylines, which are the basic principle of the whole structure. In my opinion, the film is dull and anachronistic. Conceptually, but as a result, also formally. And unfortunately, this is not the kind of dullness that would entice a person to a greater reaction. At least not me. [60%]
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Finally a true animated movie which means the same for the theater what the Day for Night (1973) meant for movie industry back than. And its qualities are best illustrated by the fact that, although it has a form that is as captivating and immersive as the fascinating technical side and its consistent execution (I don't remember when visual effects were used so abundantly in almost every shot and still only "a good servant and not a bad master", as is an unfortunate standard today), so you film remember this movie for a long time. I'm just wondering how to approach the final scene. It is no less excellent than the mosaic of (un) theatrical (un) backstage, where "everyone drives the show for a while", which precedes it, but how can get you excited with gradation, emotions and ending of Keato... Um, Riggan's line, everyone and everything else is being sidelined so the movie can fully concentrate on this; and this is, on the one hand, pity, and then, thanks to that, it gives (the question for 10 points whether erroneous or justified) the impression of losing pace. In any case, the best "art for general public" (and this is not exceptionally meant to be negative) ever.
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All the brooding, sadness, decline, or self-examination may not be too original at its core – but that infinitely perfect form is. After two breathless and witty hours, it is almost irrelevant that Alejandro González Iñárritu, as is his custom, once again goes too far and shows even what I don't really need to see or hear in order to understand or enjoy it. Michael Keaton and Emma Stone, however, pass and play solos with such captivating pacing that in the escalating scene of the final performance, I forgot to breathe.
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On a literal level, Birdman offers an exhibitionist treatise on an aging actor and his effort to gain recognition. However, this film provides a much more interesting view as an audio-visual illustration of inner confusion, when the mind of an egocentric tries in vain to overcome its own self-centredness, touchiness and conceitedness, as well as the fear of being insignificant, the need for gratification and all kinds of doubts, which are countered only by eruptions of the ego. The narrative correspondingly reaches for a parallel with the theatre stage as well as the offstage space, because this inner strife is ultimately nothing more than an ostentatious performance of self-exploration, surfing on the waves between angry hurt and an exaggerated sense of self-importance. The film brilliantly depicts these fluctuations as a frenetic concertina book of tense scenes ranging from bombastic acting showcases to literal metaphors that reveal their interconnectedness with multimedia images of socio-cultural stereotypes. The film thus superbly illustrates how every person sees themselves as the hero of their own spectacularly melodramatic ego-narrative constructed on the basis of internalised impressions of pop culture. Birdman is superficial, bombastic and shallow, but not necessarily meaningless. Kitsch, stereotypes, affectation and quirks are its water of life, in which it not only swims, but – like a synchronised swimmer – provides a grandiose spectacle. Iñárritu did not create just an overly sophisticated yet otherwise shallow story about the road to fame. He created a meta-midcult film that illustrates the illusory and egocentric nature of the stories that society feeds to us and that we figuratively create for ourselves. The uplifting nature to which the narrative aspires is as false and self-delusional as the subtitle “The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance”. As a formalistic construct created intentionally for the purpose of eliciting reactions from viewers, the film itself is a denial of ignorance – just as the ego does not rise above everything and itself, but only elevates itself above others.
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Iñárritu's debut Amores Perros once knocked me off my feet and I developed a special relationship and understanding with this Latin American director. None of his other films surpassed that debut, but I never gave Iñárritu less than 4 stars, simply because it wasn't necessary. I went into Birdman with a sense of certainty that I couldn't go wrong regardless of the positive reviews, yet after just ten minutes, I felt that I was missing the director's vision of the world this time. With every passing minute, my displeasure and rejection of what I saw grew. On the way back, I drove through red lights at intersections, scaring pedestrians on crosswalks with a devilish laugh. But that still didn't help; I had a perfectly ruined evening. If I had relied solely on emotions, it would have turned out even worse than a mere 2 stars, but I can't deny Iñárritu's formal filmmaking quality. I simply don't like theatrical, pretentious, and affected films. I avoid the term pseudo-intellectual because it is often used by ultra-right-wingers to label uncomfortable individuals, but the term pseudo-intellectual fits this film like a screw to a nut. A typical example of midcult, desperately pretending to have intellectual depth. Some time ago, a doctor diagnosed me with a throat infection and prescribed a treatment regimen. After completing it, I locked myself in the toilet for two sunsets and observed my stool to see if I was okay. I find Iñárritu's approach to be similar to that unpleasant activity of mine. If there's anything I can appreciate, it's Edward Norton's performance. His confident and spoiled theater star played with pleasure is the highlight of the film; this type of selfish jerk suits Norton perfectly. Emma Stone's presence was also nice. I anticipated the Academy Award nominations for her, and I think this kind of artistic torment and perspective suits her perfectly. Personally, I say - never again to this film... Overall impression: 40%.
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Let's recap. In 2014, the MCU was already in its 6th year, and the DCEU had joined in the 2nd year. Comic book reading was in full swing among both mainstream audiences and academics. Logically, an art project came along that maximized this situation. Alejandro González Iñárritu reached for Raymond Carver's play "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" (1981) and built a Broadway backstage drama on its blueprint. And not just any drama, but one flavored with a midlife crisis and the superhero subgenre. Because the lead role went to Michael Keaton, aka Batman, there is nothing to do but applaud. Some might argue that it is a somewhat self-centered form - and it is. Individual long shots filmed with a handheld camera are rehearsed like separate little theater productions, and the music is provided almost exclusively by an improvising drummer. But that's how art works, the form and content vie with each other. Fortunately, here everything fell into place in one absorbing whole with an unusual pace.
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Unbelievably engrossing, “cut-free" format and meditation over the integrity of personality and acting work 100%. If you don’t count the BMW advert, this is my first encounter with Iñárritu and I was completely smitten. Even when it comes to humor (my girlfriend laughed, I laughed and the remaining 5 members of the audience laughed too) and the drum orchestration packed with emotions. Biting into critics, satire on theater, movie and comic book gibberish is mixed with tribute to all of these things. A massive comeback by Keaton and Norton, and Galifianakis can really act. A great watch, packed with bits and pieces which force you to watch it again.
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Every year, a wild film with Oscar ambitions must be found...this year it's Birdman, later even crowned. First and foremost, the editing stands out, cleverly masked and excellently creating the impression of a single shot, even though there are several hours between individual "cuts". However, I immensely appreciate this unconventional way of storytelling (we've seen a similar shot in movies like Snake Eyes or Children of Men, now the whole film has it and it's great). The second big advantage is the cast, dominated by Michael Keaton as ex-Batman (sorry, ex-Birdman) and Edward Norton as a master of the theater stage, but not to be overlooked is the "blondie" Emma Stone, in whose giant eyes I regularly get lost and believe every word. Even the otherwise only chubby comedian with a lethal last name Zach Galifianakis surprised me, whom I saw in such a normal acting position for the first time. I rarely list the entire cast in a review, but I feel that with this film it's appropriate because it stands and falls on the performances and of course the story, which deals with a whispered actor and which is rightfully psycho, but otherwise actually quite meaningless. I didn't feel any bliss from the story itself, but rather from the form in which it is presented (which is probably also the focus of the source material). From time to time, the viewer should try to watch something similar, they may not like Birdman specifically, but such films and subjects are necessary so that we don't fully succumb to those treacherous soulless blockbusters, right, Riggan Thomson :)...70%
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A weird experiment and a mixture of all sorts of things with an impressive cinematography by Lubezki, whose exhibition is more entertaining and interesting than the the Woody Allen-like satirical story that lacks a touch of insight and lightness. The whole thing is overly theatrical, long, stuffy with allegorical overlays that often aren't even very readable and blur the core plot like hell. It has its positives besides the cinematography (almost all the actors), but it's hard to say, because now they are giving Oscars for something new instead of something really good.
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An excellent film, but it's not amazing - in the end it completely pushes away Edward Norton’s character (I don't often like him, but he's really great here), his Mike doesn't get any real ending... I can't forgive Birdman for that. Otherwise, although it’s undisguised and simple, it is very impressive and a 100% perfectly filmed slap to the face of the film industry with the excellent Michael Keaton (who played Vulture in Spider-Man three years after filming) and others.
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Iñárritu doesn’t know how to produce proper humour, he only succeeds in creating the illusion of a joke, which he wraps in boring existential dialogues and motifs that are taken seriously despite the imposed superficiality. Birdman pretends that its specific form, combined with its intimate theatrical setting and the tragicomic depiction of creative decline, has something to say, but in the end we find that it has told us absolutely nothing. I have nothing against film experiments, but only on the condition that I find some sense in them and that I can enjoy their unorthodox approach. None of that was the case here, and so my only lasting memory of Birdman remains the delectable performances of Edward Norton and Michael Keaton in particular, who could easily play any superhero with an animal attribute. 60%
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Birdman is a prime example of a movie that impressed me with its imaginative and playful cinematography, as well as the excellent performances. However, the content itself completely missed the mark for me. I can imagine the joy Iñárritu must have felt while coming up with the screenplay and all its technicalities, and the even greater pleasure of seeing it brought to life and celebrating with the crew after witnessing the end result. Just like I experienced joy and reveled in delight at the playful cinematography, the skillful and 'lazy' editing, the seamless blending of reality and fantasy, and the impactful use of cacophonic percussion to enhance the atmosphere of each scene in the movie theater. I can also imagine that at least one of the acting nominations will undoubtedly turn into a well-deserved win.
However, I believe the Oscars for screenplay and best picture should be given to other films. In contrast to the film's perfect form, the story itself feels like a patchwork of overused and endless themes and tropes that I have grown tired of in recent years. The characters are portrayed through hysterical outbursts, crude language, and repetitive use of explicit words, which I find equally tiresome. To my surprise, the only truly interesting character portrayed by Edward Norton is nearly ignored in the second half of the movie.
It's a great shame that Iñárritu didn't take as much care with the content as he did with the form of the movie. If the film had managed to communicate something meaningful to me (even just a little), I would have gladly given it a higher rating without hesitation and with grace. However, as it stands, I can only give it a modest three-star rating.
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I've seen quite a lot of of the work of Alejandro González Iñárritu, so I was expecting another dense psychological piece from Birdman, this time also with a humorous tone, since the film is categorized as a black comedy. I have to admit that Birdman is in some ways very different from Amores Perros, 21 Grams and Babel. A big part of that is the aforementioned comic level and the fantasy elements that corresponded with the life of a (former) action hero. Michael Keaton excels in his role, in fact one could say that it was tailor-made for him, considering his famous role as Batman. Also worth mentioning is the performance of Edward Norton, who was seriously annoying with his egocentric behaviour, which was of course the point. The ending offers more than one interpretation of how things endd and how it actually was throughout the film. In short, an unusual film that made do almost entirely with the shrill sounds of the drums in terms of music, and whose success lies mainly in its stellar cast and a script that is both peppy and very well written.
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Artsploitation with all the works. The mannerisms, the metaphysics, the metamedia, the topical commentary, the aging washed-up actor playing an aging washed-up actor, the alienation effects... dude, it even has a seven-word title. However, the accumulation of all these factors gives it a sort of stamp of exuberant immature authenticity, and most importantly, it's terrible fun.
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