Birdman

Perhaps Michael Keaton wasn’t born to play the lead role in Birdman, but his career trajectory certainly makes it feel that way.

This emotionally compelling and visually stunning satire of Broadway culture is about a washed-up actor who is trying to reinvent himself after spiraling into creative irrelevance once his superhero franchise faded from the spotlight. So you can connect the dots.

As the film opens, Riggan (Keaton) — who has become rich and famous for his role in the Birdman franchise — is preparing to star in and direct a theatrical staging of the Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” as a method of proving himself.

He’s a complex character dealing with plenty of demons as his personal and professional lives mix in the days leading up to the premiere, such as his bouts with alcohol, his neuroses and feelings of inadequacy amid public indifference, his dealings with an incredibly pompous co-star (Edward Norton), and his volatile relationships with the women in his life — including his daughter and personal assistant (Emma Stone) and his ex-wife (Amy Ryan).

Even before it opens, the play draws plenty of criticism. One journalist asks: “Why would someone go from playing the lead in a comic-book franchise to adapting Raymond Carver for the stage?” It’s a fair question. An especially prominent critic (Lindsay Duncan) threatens to trash the show just for spite, and the pressure becomes too much for Riggan to bear.

Mexican director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu (Babel) and Oscar-winning cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (Gravity) employ an audacious visual style that resembles a single, continuous take. Using a essentially single location, the camera zips around through tight backstage corridors and dressing rooms in a way that never feels gimmicky or heavy-handed.

That approach makes the performances that much more challenging, and Keaton fully inhabits a vulnerable role for which life, in some ways, clearly imitates art. The supporting cast likewise is superb.

The sharp dialogue shines through, even when the egos and constant bickering make it difficult to sympathize with these showbiz types, which is mostly the point. Norton’s character is especially insufferable.

A work of striking originality, the film’s detours into surrealism are somewhat forced. Yet Birdman, which is subtitled The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance, is both ambitious and provocative is its examination of the relationship between art and celebrity.

Rated R, 119 minutes.