Birdman, more than most, seems a film that deserves a second viewing, not only to admire the work of Keaton and his co-stars, but to delve into its many layers.
It's a quasi-religious fable about a man haunted by the past and facing a profound moral and existential crisis in the present, and it's a dazzling display of virtuoso cinematic technique and showboat performances.
This is a strange and beautiful and unique film, one of the best movies of the year.
Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) is the sort of movie that ends up on a person's favourite-movies-of-all-time list. It's really that fresh.
The brazenly off-kilter comedy offers a blistering look at how an industry rat race can decimate a man's self-worth.
Birdman takes advantage of every facet of Keaton's talent, from his knack for absurdist comedy to his seemingly effortless ability to tap into graceful profundity without making a big show of it.
Whether or not Riggan is in fact possessed of divine abilities-I��rritu offers contradictory clues along the way-Birdman puts on clear display the indisputable superpowers of its cinematographer, Emmanuel Lubezki.
It's a white elephant of a movie that conceals a mouse of timid wisdom, a mighty and churning machine of virtuosity that delivers a work of utterly familiar and unoriginal drama.
Challenges, surprises and dazzles while still working at the edges of a frazzled mind.