6) It also lampoons the divide between art and artifice in a clever way
However, let’s not kid ourselves. Riggan Thomson’s intentions are not always noble. Does he want What We Talk About When We Talk About Love to succeed because he has something worthwhile to say? Not really. Besides the sinister howl of Birdman’s voice haunting his artistic impulses, Riggan wants to make a splashy stage debut because he wants to be popular again. He mentions to his wife how Farrah Fawcett died on the same day as Michael Jackson, explaining that if he were to croak at the same time as someone more illustrious, his fade to black would really be a fade.
Birdman is a film about the artistic pursuit, but it is also one with its tongue firmly planted in cheek, resorting to making fun of the real motives behind why creative men and women work in the industry. Mike craves to find the precipice of authenticity on stage, even if his quest for truth makes him a polarizing figure. There is a reason why he sparks a relationship with Sam, Riggan’s daughter who has just gone through a stint in rehab. With a more balanced perspective of her meaning and purpose on earth, as evidenced by the stenciling she works on throughout, she manages to escape her dad’s fantasyland and find something palpable with Mike.
In one of the film’s most dryly funny moments, Riggan accidentally rips off part of the paper Sam has stenciled on and uses it as a napkin. He doesn’t really have much of a bearing for human truth, taking the minimalism of Carver and creating a rather bombastic production from it. (Even if it is a tale told with sound and fury, does it signify anything?)
He adapted the show as a tribute to a man who inspired him to be an actor, but besides this petty nostalgia, his motives for working on the show stem less from his desire to explore the human condition or say something new than to impress the fans he worries won’t remember him. Hence, the Birdman’s call (or caw) warps his psyche completely.
