Michael Keaton: Riggan
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 : F - k, they put him in a cape too?
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 : [as Birdman] People, they love blood. They love action. Not this talky, depressing, philosophical bullshit.
Riggan : [as Birdman] Shave off that pathetic goatee. Get some surgery. Sixty's the new thirty, motherfucker!
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!
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.
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.
Riggan : The last time I flew here from LA, George Clooney was sitting two seats in front of me. With those cuff links, and that... ridiculous chin. We ended up flying through this really bad storm. The plane started to rattle and shake, and everyone on board was crying, and praying. And I just sat there. Sat there thinking that when Sam opened that paper it was going to be Clooney's face on the front page. Not mine. Did you know that Farrah Fawcett died on the same day as Michael Jackson?
Mike Shiner : Give me a cue again.
Riggan : Okay. "Hey, I'm the wrong person to ask. I don't actually know the man, I've heard his name mentioned in passing. I don't know, you'd have to know the particulars. I think what you're saying..."
Mike Shiner : Hey, can I make a suggestion, do you mind?
Riggan : Yeah, yeah sure, no not at all.
Mike Shiner : Okay, just stay with me. "I'm the wrong person to ask," he says, but what is that, what is the intention in that? Is he fed up with the subject so he's changing it, is he deflecting guilt over the marriage? And here's the thing, you've got four lines after that that all say the same thing. "I didn't even know the man, I only heard his name mentioned in passing, I wouldn't know, you'd have to know the particulars..." The point is, you don't know the guy, we f - king get it. Make it work with one line: "I didn't even know the man." Right?
Riggan : Right. Yeah. You know my lines too, huh?
Mike Shiner : Can we not get hung up on knowing lines?
Riggan : I'm the answer to a fucking Trivial Pursuit question
Riggan : [to Birdman] Bye-bye. And fuck you.
Clara : Now, is it true that you've been injecting yourself with semen from baby pigs?
Riggan : I'm sorry, what?
Clara : As a method of facial rejuvenation.
Riggan : Where did you read that?
Clara : It was tweeted by @prostatewhispers.
Riggan : No, that's not true.
Clara : I know, but did you do it?
Riggan : No, I didn't do it.
Clara : Okay, then I'll just write that you're denying it.
Riggan : No, don't write anything! Why would you write anything? I didn't... don't write what she said.
Riggan : I'm nothing. I'm not even here.
Young Birdman : You are lame, Riggan, rolling around with that poncy theater fuck in an 800-seat shithole like this. Oh, you really fucked up this time. You destroy a genius book with that infantile adaptation. Now you're about to destroy what's left of your career. It's pathetic.
Riggan : [trying to meditate] Breathing in, I am calm...
Young Birdman : Let's get the hell out of here while we can.
Riggan : [trying to meditate] ... I ignore this mental formation. This is a mental formation.
Young Birdman : Stop that shit! I'm not a mental formation. I'm you, asshole.
Riggan : Leave me alone.
Young Birdman : You were a movie star, remember? Pretentious, but happy.
Riggan : I wasn't happy.
Young Birdman : Ignorant, but charming. Now, you're just a tiny, bitter cocksucker.
Riggan : I was fucking miserable.
Young Birdman : Yeah, but fake miserable. Hollywood miserable. What are you trying to prove? You're an artist? You're not.
Riggan : Fuck you!
Young Birdman : No, fuck you, you coward. We grossed billions! You're ashamed of that? Billions!
Riggan : And billions of flies eat shit every day! So what? Does that make it good? I don't know if you noticed, but that was 1992!
Young Birdman : You could jump right back into that suit if you wanted to.
Riggan : [rips open his shirt] Oh, look at me! Look at this! Look, look, look! I look like a turkey with leukemia! I'm fucking disappearing. This is what's left! I'm the answer to a fucking Trivial Pursuit question!
Young Birdman : You're an impostor here. Eventually they will figure you out.
Riggan : What part of this don't you get? You're dead.
Young Birdman : We are not dead.
Riggan : Oh, please, just stay dead.
Young Birdman : We are not dead.
Young Birdman : Stop saying "we"! There is no "we"! I'm not fucking you! I'm Riggan fucking Thomson!
Young Birdman : No, you're Birdman. Because without me, all that's left is you, a sad, selfish, mediocre actor, grasping at the last vestiges of his career.
[Riggan uses telekinesis to grab his poster and slam it into the wall]
Young Birdman : What the hell did you do that for? I liked that poster. It's always "we", brother.
Riggan : Fuck you! Shut the fuck up! Leave me alone! You're fucking, so fucking annoying! Shut up!
[notices Jake enter the room and immediately calms down]
Riggan : Hey. What's up?
Sam : Do you really think you'll be ready for opening tomorrow?
Riggan : Yeah, yeah. Yeah, well, I mean, previews were pretty much a train-wreck. We can't seem to get through without a raging fire or a raging hard-on. I'm broke. I'm not sleeping like, you know, at all. And um, this play is kinda starting to feel like a major deformed version of myself that just keeps following me around, hitting me in the balls with a tiny little hammer. I'm sorry, what was the question?
Sam : Never mind.
Riggan : I wasn't even present in my own life, and now I don't have it, and I'm never going to have it.
Riggan : She does look like she licked a homeless guy's ass.
Riggan : Look, you're beautiful and you're talented. And I'm lucky to have you.
Riggan : Twenty little leopards laughed at two lofty lions.
Mike Shiner : I wanna know something. Why Raymond Carver?
Riggan : I was a kid in high school, doing a play at Syracuse. He was in the audience. And he sent this back, afterwards.
[gives Mike a napkin]
Mike Shiner : "Thank you for an honest performance. Ray Carver." Yeah?
Riggan : That's how I knew I was gonna be an actor. Right there.
Mike Shiner : [laughs sadly] Oh...
Riggan : What's so funny?
Mike Shiner : He just wrote this on a cocktail napkin?
Riggan : Yeah. So?
Mike Shiner : He was fucking drunk, man.
Jake : Ralph did it, the motherfucker did it. Threatened to sue us, didn't even wait to get out of the hospital.
Riggan : What did you say?
Jake : What did I say? I said "Ralph, you motherfucker, are you threatening me? I swear, I so much as get a letter from a lawyer, then the press is going to get the pictures off your computer." That's what I said.
Riggan : What pictures?
Jake : He has a thing for nuns. In diapers. Why should you care? You shouldn't have any knowledge of that, anyway.