On the whole I found Birdman dreary and full of pitiful humans who wrested what they wanted from one another.
However, I could relate to the story within the story. All of the characters were insecure in their abilities to portray their roles, yet still took the risk.
To a smaller degree, I feel it every time I play my violin in public.
This is not false humility.
On Sunday I missed a couple of entrances. My pitch was off, producing cringe-worthy notes. Had there been any present, all of the dogs would have been driven from the room. My bow skittered over the strings like oil in a hot pan--exactly the right technique for percussive modern compositions without melody. But I was playing hymns.
Preoccupied with their own parts, my fellow musicians didn't notice. Usually I'm the only one who recognizes the errors, and anybody else is too kind to comment. I'm relieved I don't use a microphone. Anyone sitting beyond the second row probably thinks I just produce notes beyond their range of hearing.
I am grateful to be playing off-off-Broadway, so to speak. Our church's worship leader, the instrumentalists and singers welcome my artistic pittance. They give me the freedom to try. A bigger church, with more talent to choose from, might not.
Despite my disappointment in myself I continue to put myself on the line because when it's right--it's wonderful. It gives me pleasure, the congregation enjoys it, and God may too. After all, Psalms tells us it's okay to make a joyful noise.
Where and when do you stick your neck out, and find that blessed permission to fail?