Movie Review. Birdman. Abominable Academy Award Winner.
Birdcrap, the movie. Good God!
After substantial qualitative hype disseminated through the mass media, but with misgivings about believing anything disseminated through mass media, I watched Birdcrap last night. Good grief. It was a perfect storm of self-adoration, self-hatred, piss poor parenting, female and child abuse, idiotic flights of fancy (the protagonist can move things around with his mind and eventually fly like the former superhero bird man he once played in the movies).
Must I go on? Without the ability to smell I still took in the aroma of squalid back-alley sweat and excrement this film exuded. You don’t need to criticize it after you see it or even think about it in any way…you need to take a hot shower and wash with a lot of scented soap. Watching again and again a bad script within a script. (the protagonist’s dumbly written and acted play) is simply grindingly hard work.
You want to leave the theater even if it means gifting your popcorn and large coke to someone nearby. Michael Keaton proved he is much more suited to light humor roles than anything demanding seriousness. Edward Norton was the only dim light of warmth in the whole thing, mostly because his character was all about not giving a damn and rejecting everything and everyone while working hard at sleeping with the drug-addicted teen daughter of the former bird man. Seeing Keaton’s lumpy slumping 63-year-old body out running around the streets of downtown NY was about the best highlight of the movie.
You are only about ten minutes into the movie when you begin to pray that the American Sniper is set up in a window across from the stage offices and ready to do his thing! The fact that the movie is utter crap is not nearly so damning as how much attention it’s being given as some sort of backhanded reverse retro quality piece of movie-making.
In this day and age, it is certain to do only one thing…win the Oscar.