Birdman is one of those films that are difficult to describe or categorize.  It’s nominally a “black comedy,” but it was tragic enough that a fellow moviegoer leaving my theater felt the need to tell the ticket-taker that it was depressing and reminded him of Robin Williams.  It is also hilarious.  It’s an ensemble piece, yet it’s entirely dominated by one actor in the comeback role of a lifetime, despite the fact that he’s never been gone.  It’s a straightforward story of backstage theater drama and shenanigans, but it’s also a meditation on life, fame, popularity, art, and how we define ourselves and let others define us.  It’s a simple film, set in one small corner of New York with only a handful of characters, while simultaneously being one of the most exhilarating works of cinematic craftsmanship I’ve seen in years.  More than anything, it’s the sort of film that sticks in your head, refusing to be easily dismissed or forgotten.

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