Birdman

Riggan Thomsen (played by Michael Keaton) was a big deal.  Past tense.  He played a superhero twenty years ago, but now he's the kind of guy TMZ would catch at an airport to get a meaningless sound bite.  As the film begins he's in his dressing room, and he's got problems. Someone delivered a poster of one of the Birdman movies, and it's taunting him as he tries to mount a Broadway production of a Raymond Carver play that he's starring in and directing.  He needed a miracle when it came to a lead man, and although a solution arrived in the form of Michael Shiner (Edward Norton), that solution is a head case.  Throw in the fact that his daughter Sam (Emma Stone) despises him, and he's got more than enough on his plate.


I was eager to see Birdman.  Other than the part about Michael Keaton playing an actor who was a superhero, I didn't really know what to expect.   Birdman, it turns out, is unlike anything I've seen in a while.  There's steady percussion and drumming in the background.  The camerawork is in-your-face (or rather, in the actors' faces).  The plot adds complication to complication, making the viewer feel almost as overwhelmed as Riggan.  I found myself not on the edge of my seat, but leaning back as events unfolded.

I think Birdman is one of the best films I've seen in a long time, simply because it didn't let up and didn't let me catch my breath. It efficiently and effectively tackles themes of self-worth versus worth in others' eyes, throws in some supernatural elements and a lot of unexpected twists.  I highly recommend seeing Birdman while it's still in theaters, as it's definitely a vivid sensory experience.