"Birdman" Review

I finally watched the Oscar-winning Birdman, and to be frank, I was much underwhelmed. I expect a movie awarded as the “Best Picture” of the year to be something impressive, moving, or thought-provoking, but Birdman wasn’t really any of those things for me. It wasn’t horrible, but I certainly think some of the other nominees were better.

So, here is why I think Birdman won the award for “Best Picture.” It won because it reflects the narcissism, insecurities, and disjointedness of Hollywood itself. Although the film centers on a washed up actor on Broadway, its core is just as much about Hollywood. In that sense, an Academy vote for Birdman is really a vote for themselves.

In fact, it is interesting to see how frequently films about film-making and Hollywood end up either being nominated for “Best Picture” or winning the award in recent years: The Artist (2011), Hugo (2011), Argo (2012), and Birdman (2014). Three of the past four winners have been films about Hollywood. It seems as if the academy is not really interested in what is truly the “Best Picture,” but in what film best reflects their own values and culture.

That seems to be the case with Birdman. Certainly the struggles of Riggan in the film are very real for many actors (perhaps even Michael Keaton himself whose own career is eerily similar to Riggan’s). Just like many ordinary people in mid-life, actors and those in Hollywood encounter the questions of meaning, significance, and success. It may even be worse for them because of the dangers of celebrity and fame.

But here’s my problem, I don’t really care. Perhaps the most engaging part of the film is Riggan’s daughter’s (Emma Stone) rant against her father about the pointlessness of his current endeavors. 

  “Let’s face it, dad. You are not doing this for the sake of art. You are doing this because you want to feel relevant again. Well guess what, there’s an entire world out there where people fight to be relevant every single day, and you act like it doesn’t exist. Things are happening in a place that you ignore, in a place that, by the way, has already forgotten about you…You’re doing this because you’re scared to death, like the rest of us, that you don’t matter. And you know what, you’re right—you don’t. It’s not important, ok. You’re not important. Get used to it!”

 I felt drawn to this monologue because it rings true. The reality is that actors and celebrities are no more important than any nameless person on the streets. So, I don’t really care for the struggles of Riggan in the movie. His self-loathing does not elicit sympathy, not when there are real people with real struggles in the world. So, you’re an actor who’s discovering you’re human…Get used to it. You really aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. Your inner-conflict does not deserve any more sympathy or applause than anyone else’s.

And yet, the whole point of the Academy seems to be to deny this truth. In the end, all the Academy really seems to be is a group that gathers together to celebrate themselves, tout their own accomplishments, flaunt their wealth, and give each other fancy awards for doing something just about anyone in America can do—fake it. So whether a film celebrates actors (like Argo did), or critiques the excesses of fame (like Birdman), any such film acts like a mirror. And in the egocentric world of the Academy, the award, of course, is going to go to the reflection in the mirror.

This is not to say that Birdman was without artistic merit. The seamless, one-shot style in which the movie was filmed was unique. There were also some very touching and thought-provoking scenes. However, to say that it was the “Best Picture” seems an over-statement.

Perhaps the excessive amount of language in the film contributes to my cynicism. I don’t know about you, but there seems something disingenuous about throwing around the f-bomb and s-word over 150 times in a movie and calling that “acting.” It really just sounds like angry, nonsensical babbling to me (imagine if we substituted every version of “fuck” in the movie with a version of “poop”—poop, poopin, poop you, etc.) Far from offering an intense exploration of the human experience, that excessive amount of profanity just seems like you really have nothing to say.

Which is about where I ended up with Birdman. It tackles a number of themes—fame/celebrity, love/admiration, blockbuster/art, age/relevance—but in the end I felt it really did not have much to say to me. I have little sympathy for a character who complains about problems that seem so out of touch with the real world. In the end, it just really made me feel sorry for actors and those in Hollywood who have all the glitz and glitter but are so often lacking substance and meaning. These are things fame cannot buy. But, me feeling sorry for actors does not equate an award for Best Picture.

And so, the Academy’s decision to award Birdman that accolade just feeds into the cynical narrative that Hollywood is out of touch and self-absorbed—“Yes we do matter, because we say so.” Well, that’s great. Now the rest of us will continue along our ordinary lives until the next time we are beckoned to the worship service for Oscar.

Despair and Hope

We live in a troubled world, don't we? Every day the news is filled with tragedy and disappointment. Just in the past day we were greeted with news that ISIS is holding at least 150 Christians hostage, were reminded of the partisan politics and gridlock within our Congress, and probably heard about countless other problems in our local community.

Things can get even more depressing for those of us who minister [should be read "all Christians"]. As we seek to bring God's Kingdom to earth and to proclaim the Gospel that Jesus Christ is Lord, we often feel like we are spinning our wheels in the mud. It doesn't help when so many Christian teachers and pundits remind us of the many moral failings and cultural depravity in our society. And, if you happen to be someone working within the church (or even in a non-profit), you may sometimes wonder if all the work you are putting forth is really paying off.

This has been a constant struggle for me in my own ministry in Marlin, TX for the past 4 and a half years. I work hours each week preparing, studying, ministering, and praying, but sometimes it feels like the ministry and the community go one step forward and two steps back. You spend countless sermons and mentoring hours emphasizing to others the immense love and grace found through Jesus, only to have people walk away from the church. You teach about how holy living and self-control are truly paths to the good life, only to get on Facebook and see the crap that students and church members post (sometimes directed at one another). You point others toward the reality that our faith cannot be lived out alone and that we need the community of Christ's Body, only to be disappointed many weeks by piddly attendance. It's enough to make a grown man cry (and I have sometimes.)

But, the temptation to despair and burnout is not unique to church work. Anyone who sees a need in their community and has struggled to change that reality will inevitably face these dark nights and haunting questions. And, when those doubts come, it is so very tempting to give into despair and cynicism. I have seen it in my own life. Slowly, you start badmouthing your congregation, or your town, or your school, or your (fill in the blank). You compare your grass to greener fields in other towns and communities. You entertain thoughts of leaving and moving to someplace where "they actually get it." You find yourself visiting despair.com to feed your cynicism and self-righteousness (it's actually a pretty funny website, check it out.) But cynicism is not a Christian virtue, at least not in the Bible I read.

In Jeremiah 32, there is a beautiful story that deals with despair and hope. At this point in the prophet's life, he has spent most of his ministry proclaiming the doom of Jerusalem and the Temple. Now, those prophecies were unfolding as the King of Babylon was besieging Jerusalem. Jeremiah then had the duty of announcing the city would fall and that Judah's King would not escape. In response, the King of Judah decided to imprison Jeremiah for his negativity.

However, while Jeremiah is sitting in prison and knows that his city will fall into the hands of his enemies, he receives an amazing prophecy. God instructs him to buy a plot of land in Judah and to place the deed in a jar "so it will last a long time." In Jeremiah's current circumstances that business deal made no sense. Why buy a piece of land that was about to become occupied territory? He didn't even know if he would survive the siege.

Even though it made little sense, the symbolism of this simple action was huge. Buying a deed communicated to God's people that this hardship would not be forever. They would not be occupied forever. One day, they would return to the land, and in that context, having a deed to a field would be a blessing. Despite the surrounding circumstances, Jeremiah chose to be used as a symbol of hope reminding people that we serve a God of restoration and resurrection.

So, the next time you feel tempted to give into despair and cynicism, remember that we are called to be signs of hope for our community, church, and culture. When everyone around us is screaming that the sky is falling, we are called to remind them that it is really heaven that is falling to earth. When pundits and neighbors despair because evil is running rampant, we run to the cross where Jesus crucified every evil power. And, when we look at our situation and are ready to host a funeral, we remember that we are a resurrection people.

Now, we may not see the transformation we want to see in our lifetime, but we also know that it's not really us who provides the growth and change. We plant the seeds and someone else may water, but in the end it is God who breathes life. After all, Jeremiah never got to use his deed. He probably died in captivity. But, for years that deed sat as a symbol of hope that all was not lost, and one day, someone did get to use that deed.

So wherever you are, cling to hope and "put the deed in the jar," because God is not done yet.