Birdman

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%] (01/27/2015)

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. (01/28/2015)

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. (01/21/2015)

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. (02/08/2015)

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. (01/24/2015)