Watching Birdman (Or the Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) was a lot like going through menopause -- one minute I was delighted, the next I was depressed, and a few times I delved into a scene and forgot why I was there. There was something profoundly honest in the movie that touched my Baby Boomer soul.
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For the third time in four years, the Oscar for Best Picture has gone to a film about film -- a "meta-film" if you will. If we wanted to, we could take this observation and ask the question: What does this say about the Academy? But instead, why don't we take this Academy bias and ask a harder question.