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.
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.