Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) Quotes

Riggan: Listen to me. I'm trying to do something important.
Sam: This is not important.
Riggan: It's important to me! Alright? Maybe not to you, or your cynical friends whose only ambition is to go viral. But to me... To me... this is - God. This is my career, this is my chance to do some work that actually means something.

Sam: Means something to who? You had a career before the third comic book movie, before people began to forget who was inside the bird costume. You're doing a play based on a book that was written 60 years ago, for a thousand rich old white people whose only real concern is gonna be where they go to have their cake and coffee when it's over. And let's face it, Dad, it's not for

the sake of art. It's because you want to feel relevant again. Well, there's a whole world out there where people fight to be relevant every day. And you act like it doesn't even exist! Things are happening in a place that you willfully ignore, a place that has already forgotten you. I mean, who the fuck are you? You hate bloggers. You make fun of Twitter. You don't even have a Facebook page.

You're the one who doesn't exist. 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. You're not important. Get used to it.
Sam: Dad...

Riggan: Just find me an actor. A good actor. Give me Woody Harrelson.
Jake: He's doing the next Hunger Games.
Riggan: Michael Fassbender?
Jake: He's doing the prequel to the X-Men prequel.
Riggan: How about Jeremy Renner?
Jake: Who?

Riggan: Jeremy Renner. He was nominated. He was the Hurt Locker guy.
Jake: Oh, okay. He's an Avenger.
Riggan: Fuck, they put him in a cape too?

Tabitha: It doesn't matter. I'm gonna destroy your play.
Riggan: But, you didn't even... see it. Um, you know, did I do something to offend you? I... I am feeling sorry...
Tabitha: [interrupting] As a matter of fact, you did. You took-up space in a theater which *otherwise* might have been used on something worthwhile.

Riggan: Okay... well. I mean, you don't even know if it's any good or not... I didn't...
Tabitha: That's true; I haven't read a word of it or even seen a preview. But after the opening tomorrow, I'm gonna turn in the worst review anyone has ever read and I'm gonna close your play. Would you like to know why? Because I hate you and everyone you represent.

Entitled, selfish, spoiled children. Blissfully untrained, unversed and unprepared to even attempt real art. Handing each other awards for cartoons and pornography. Measuring your worth in weekends? Well this is the theater and you don't get to come in here and pretend you can write, direct and act in your own propaganda piece without coming through me first. So break a leg.

Riggan: Wow. You know... What has to happen in a person's life to become a critic anyway? What are you writing, another review? Huh? Is that any good? Is it? Is it bad? Did you even see this? Let me read it.
Tabitha: I will call the police!
Riggan: No, you won't call the police... let's read your fuckin' review. "Callow." Callow is a

*label*. It's just... "Lackluster." That's just a labels. Margin... marginalia. Are you kidding me? Sounds like you need penicillin to clear that up. That's a label too. These are all just labels. You just label everything. That's so fuckin' lazy... You just... You're a lazy fucker. You're a lazy... You know what this is? You even know what that is? You don't, You know why? Because you can't see

this thing if you don't have to label it. You mistake all those little noises in your head for true knowledge.
Tabitha: Are you finished?
Riggan: No, I'm not finished! There's nothing here about technique! There's nothing in here about structure! There's nothing in here about intentions! It's just a bunch of crappy opinions, backed up by even

crappier comparisons... You write a couple of paragraphs and you know what? None of this cost you fuckin' anything! The Fuck! You risk nothing! Nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I'm a fucking actor!
[breathes deeply]
Riggan: This play cost me everything... So I tell you what, you take this fucking malicious, cowardly, shittyly written review and you shove that right the

*fuck* up your wrinkly tight ass.
Tabitha: You're no actor, you're a celebrity. Let's be clear on that.
[picks up her notepad and started to turn. But then picks up the flower from table and put it in Riggan's fist]
Tabitha: I'm gonna kill your play.

Young Birdman: It's a beautiful day. Forget about the Times... everyone else has. Come on. Stand up! So you're not a great actor. Who cares? You're much more than that. You tower over these other theater douchebags. You're a movie star, man! You're a global force! Don't you get it? You spent your life building a bank account and a reputation... and you blew 'em both. Good for you.

Fuck it. We'll make a comeback. They're waiting for something huge. Well, give it to them. Shave off that pathetic goatee. Get some surgery! Sixty's the new thirty, motherfucker. You're the original. You paved the way for these other clowns. Give the people what they want... old-fashioned apocalyptic porn. Birdman: The Phoenix Rises. Pimple-faced gamers creaming in their pants. A billion

worldwide, guaranteed. You are larger than life, man. You save people from their boring, miserable lives. You make them jump, laugh, shit their pants. All you have to do is...
[Riggan snaps fingers, and explosions occur, shooting starts, soldiers get shot, choppers fly and shoot, one gets shot down]
Young Birdman: That's what I'm talking about. Bones rattling! Big,

loud, fast! Look at these people, at their eyes... they're sparkling. They love this shit. They love blood. They love action. Not this talky, depressing, philosophical bullshit.
[Birdman shoots laser in giant mechanical bird above the building, it screeches]
Young Birdman: Yes. And the next time you screech...
[Riggan screeches]
Young

Birdman: ... it'll explode into millions of eardrums. You'll glimmer on thousands of screens around the globe. Another blockbuster. You are a god.
[Riggan starts flying]
Young Birdman: See? There you go, you motherfucker. Gravity doesn't even apply to you. Wait till you see the faces of those who thought we were finished. Listen to me. Let's go back one more

time and show them what we're capable of. We have to end it on our own terms... with a grand gesture. Flames. Sacrifice. Icarus. You can do it. You hear me? You are... Birdman!

Mike Shiner: Is this water? Did you replace my gin with water, man?
Riggan: Mike. Come on.
Mike Shiner: No. Come on, what?
Riggan: Come on, you're drunk.
Mike Shiner: I'm drunk? Yes, I'm drunk! I'm supposed to be drunk! Why aren't you drunk? This is Carver. He left a piece of his liver

on the table every time he wrote a fucking page. If I need to be drinking gin, who the fuck are you to touch my gin, man? Listen, you fucked with the period, you fucked with the plot so you could have the best lines, you leave me the fucking tools that I need! Oh, come on people, don't be so pathetic. Stop looking at the world through your cellphone screens. Have a real experience! Does anybody

give a shit about truth other than me? I mean the set is fake, the bananas are fake, there's fucking nothing in this milk carton, your performance is fake. The only thing that is real on this stage is this chicken. So, I'm gonna work with the chicken.

Sam: I want to ask another question.
Mike Shiner: You already did.
Sam: One more.
Mike Shiner: Go ahead.
Sam: If you weren't afraid, what would you want to do to me?
Mike Shiner: I'd pull your eyes out of your head...
Sam: That's sweet.

Mike Shiner: ...and put them in my own skull, and look around, so I could see the street the way I used to when I was your age.