Birdman

Rob and I took a gamble yesterday afternoon, braving the wintry conditions to see Birdman, hoping to beat the blizzard.  Rob remembers the storm of '97 when he got stuck at work for days in a row (he wasn't happy).  I tried to console him, pointing out that getting stuck at a movie theater would be awesome; they'd have to feed us, let us see all the movies, and probably give us cool stuff too – I was almost hoping to get snowed-in.  To make a long story short, we saw Birdman, and made it home safely, just ahead of the snow… too bad.

Michael Keaton was excellent in Birdman, as was everyone else; Emma Stone, Naomi Watts, Edward Norton et al.  Going into the film I was not aware that it would flow together as one extended shot; obviously an elaborate trick in the editing room, yet still quite impressive.  That aside, it was a remarkable, singular experience that was entertaining in the moment, but fails to leave any reason to recommend it.  Keaton plays a washed-up version of himself, whose main claim to fame was a role as Birdman, an obvious allusion to Keaton's role as Batman.  Keaton's character has financed, adapted, is directing and is starring in a Broadway play, in the hopes of validating a life which otherwise is defined by the shallowest commercialism of Hollywood.  The film should be a satire, pointing out the emptiness of acting regardless of stage of silver screen.  While elements of that film exist, it never quite goes far enough, being content in the story it tells instead of acknowledging the lessons that could be learned.  I hope that the filmmakers understand the irony that they have made a shallow movie about a man who is looking to escape the shallowness of movies.