Ids, egos and superegos collide and
combust (in a single take!) on stages as concrete as the Broadway
theatre and as fantastical as the imaginings of a self-obsessed actor
in Alejandro González Iňárritu's Birdman. As in the myth of
Icarus, to which his wily script often alludes both visually and
verbally, Iňárritu has high-flying ambitions for what is possibly
his most personal film to date. But rather than crash and burn, his
satiric slant on the artist's odyssey soars magnificently on its dark
feathery wings.
Michael Keaton stars – in a
performance that vies to redefine his career – as Riggan Thompson,
a washed-up former movie star seeking respect and validation by
directing and starring in his own adaptation of Raymond Carver's What
We Talk About When We Talk About Love
on Broadway. He had once played a popular superhero (the eponymous
Birdman) in a series of lucrative but disposable comic book
blockbusters that brought him fame and fortune, but not artistic
fulfillment.
Now, some twenty years after hanging up
his dopey bird suit, he's risking so much more than just his money
and reputation by mounting this prestigious production. The tenuous
relationship with his recovering drug addict daughter (Emma Stone),
his fragile sense of self, and even his grasp on reality hang in the
balance while the pressure mounts.
