2014 Best Picture
Rating: 17/20 (Jen: fell asleep; said it was "stupid" anyway)
Plot: The former star of a superhero movie franchise tries to put on a Broadway play but has a few obstacles, some of which are in his mind.
I can't remember a score that so perfectly blended with what was happening visually or narratively. I was going to write about loose ends here, about how something structured like this really needed to be a little tighter. For example, why is there random lesbianism? But then I thought of Antonio Sanchez's Oscar-ineligible drum orgasmic score, freestyle like living. Random lesbianism became a cymbal crash or maybe an out-of-place gong. No, there wasn't a gong. No self-respecting jazz drummer is going to use a gong. The best movie scores are the ones that just couldn't be substituted for anything else. I'm listening to it now, and although I like it, it's just not the same without the visuals and the film's dialogue. And if the score was removed from the movie, that movie just wouldn't be the same. Sanchez's jazzy drumming burbles like the souls of these characters, clashes like a sonic mirror held up to Riggan's (anagram=raging) internal conflicts. You never really know where the drummer's going here--are we going to hear him get wicked?--and it's perfect because you don't really know where this story's going either. And then the drummer actually makes an appearance in the Broadway theater, and you ask yourself, "What the hell is he doing there?"
The structure of this movie isn't exactly new. Hitchcock pulled similar faux long-shot trickery in the brilliant Rope, and Alexandr Sokurov took us on an uninterrupted and beautiful trip through a museum in Russian Ark. I kind of felt like I knew what to expect going in, but Birdman surprised me with a story that did not occur over 119 minutes. Inarritu uses some clever transitions to move ahead a few hours or days while still maintaining the movie's long-take flow. This is a movie that swims, technically brilliant and so refreshing. You've really never seen anything like it, and I was in awe of how everybody involved in this made something so difficult look so damn easy. Just getting all of the timing down is a feat, and you have the same sense of "How'd they do that?" that you have when you think about the pyramids. There are certain shots or camera movements that will have you questioning how they were even accomplished, almost like parts of I Am Cuba. It's the sort of style and technical brilliance that would make subsequent viewings rewarding, especially since I know I was a little distracted by the movie making and maybe lost track of some of the pieces to what was really an intricate puzzle here. Then, you've got splashes of special effects before it all erupts into something that somebody wandering into the wrong theater could mistake for a summer blockbuster complete with explosions and CGI antagonists. They're curve balls in a movie filled with sliders and knuckleballs.
Every single performer in this had to bring his or her A-game to that theater. Otherwise, this doesn't work. And I was amazed at every single performance. I loved how the characters were developed anyway. The viewer's required to be a little patient with how some of their motivations and backgrounds are uncovered, but it's all so completely natural. Keaton, of course, is at the center of the thing since his alter-ego is in the title of the movie. Riggan's never a cliche. The character deepens and then deepens again when you get to the point where you don't think there's anything left to be revealed. Keaton's performance is just about perfect. He moves so naturally from this artificial coolness and calmness to unhinged rage. He's a character who has so obviously lost it in just about every way a person can lose it, but one who is so desperately trying to hide the fact that he's lost it from everybody, including himself. Edward Norton, Emma Stone, Naomi Watts. They're all good. Seems like this is a really brave role for Norton who apparently is playing a slightly-exaggerated version of himself. The character's strong, not because he gets a satisfying character arc but because there are all these layers. There are times when Norton is an actor playing an actor who is not currently acting but definitely acting. There are a few moments, most notably when he's on the stage for the first time, when what he does is just magical. Watts and Stone are good, too, but all four of the leads are giving what are very obviously performances. There's something theatrical about it all which, since this is all about people putting on a play, doesn't seem entirely inappropriate. I might have been most impressed with what Zach Galifianakis was doing. He seemed the most natural here, the most capable of blending in with reality.
I'd love to see this again. The unreliable narration (weird to say about a film), the magical realistic qualities, and an ambiguous ending make you question what you really saw or really thought you saw for these two hours. I think there's a major clue to help us figure out what really happens, at least on one of its levels. Regardless, this is the kind of fascinating movie that a lot of people will love and that a lot of people will hate. But it's one that I think people will be talking about in fifty years, and they just don't make enough movies like that anymore.
7 comments:
This movie has everything: flawless camera movement, special F/X that's never distracting, dialogue that seems true to the characters, evident direction with terrific pacing, chemistry between performers, and a story that does what it came to do. The story is provocative, thoughtful, intricate, intelligent, self-aware, and multi-layered. It almost lives in multiple genres. This is what set it apart from the other list of Best Pic noms. This is why it deserved to win.
I think that you're right when you say some of it wasn't original - that the techniques had been done before. It's still okay. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: "Just because it was done first, doesn't mean it was done best." "Birdman" pulled it off. All of it.
If I had one let down, it would be the ambiguous ending. Still, it seemed fitting for all that came before it. He either flew high above his problems, plummeted and ended them all.
I forgot to mention the soundtrack. Of course, I agree a thousand percent. Its discombobulated rythms added to the mood and tone perfectly. No stone was left unturned in this work of art.
My main issue (which I neglected to mention up there): the references to very modern actors/movies. I forget who or what now (somebody like Ryan Reynolds), but it just seemed like the type of stuff that might not be remembered 50 years from now when this movie is still talked about. I would have almost rather have heard made-up names there. Birdman, after all, is a made-up superhero.
I didn't mean the lack of originality with the long-shot technique as an indictment or anything. What I meant to say and probably didn't say very well is that the movie surprised me by not being what I thought it was. Both Rope and Russian Ark are real-time experiences. I knew this was about a play and figured it would take us through a final rehearsal and to opening night or something but it spanned several days. I thought it did so cleverly with the technique still giving the whole thing this dreamlike quality that I really liked.
So, does any part of you think he died on stage. The reason I ask--that final scene in the hospital room (where a guy who just shot himself on stage has access to a window that opens high above the ground) where he talks to Galifianakis (I can't spell this guy's fucking name) and his daughter and gets all that wonderful feel-good news...doesn't it happen after an actual movie transition rather than being an extension of the unbroken long-shot technique of the rest of the movie?
Jen asked me how the movie ended (she fell asleep soon after Keaton's famous underwear scene, I think) and I said, "I don't really know."
Yeah, good clarification on the technical stuff. I misunderstood. You're right, the "real time" element would have been expected. Instead, filled a larger time span with fewer cuts. Thumbs up.
I do see your issue with the real names of actors. I really liked hearing them now, but could see an audience 50 years from now glaze over the references. I think it might still work knowing Ed Norton is kind of playing a caricature of himself. That brings in a layer that would have otherwise just been another actor pretending to be somebody else. That real-name set up brings authenticity.
I would have definitely liked for it to have ended with him killing himself on stage. His swan song, so to speak. That epilogue in the hospital was very surreal. He got to say things and hear things that had been a long time coming. No bed rails, not tied down or under supervision for attempted suicide, opening a window in a hospital are all factually inaccurate. Also, he gets to have these convenient conversations with Zach Galifianakis [sic] saying how great that show turned out, and his daughter who all of a sudden wants to hug on him. Plus, if you add in the conversation of "Farah Faucett dying on the same day as Michael Jackson," we get the realization that he will do anything to be remembered.
I'm convinced: that last hospital scene is an epilogue - a last chapter that shows us a happy-ending afterlife.
Yeah, I think that's how I feel about the ending. Of course, I'm often guilty of digging too deeply for interpretations, mostly with cartoons.
Dude totally deserved the Best Director Oscar. You nailed this review and I agree with everything. The scene where he looks up and sees dragons just floored me and if time travel were possible, this is the kind of movie you would want to show early film pioneers, just to show what's possible. My take on the ending was that he was once again imagining, but if the Nightcrawler people were involved, he became street pizza. Also a 17.
Alive and imagining?
I know this sort of thing rubs some people the wrong way (Barry, for example), but I like the possibilities that exist outside the frames of movies.
Is the ending to be taken completely literally? It could be but seems unlikely. Is he alive and imagining it all? Possible. Is he dead and in some sort of halcyon purgatory? Could be. Maybe the whole movie's a dream. It feels like one.
Another movie that I want to compare this to is Gaspar Noe's 'Enter the Void,' which is much much different but for whatever reason has a flow that reminds me of this one. It's much weirder and darker though--definitely not for everybody.
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