Alejandro González Iñárritu

The crackpot Birdman on some level tells a relatable story of one person's attempt to get, for once, something right, while functioning as a useful cultural critique of the disconcerting inextricability of commerce from art on stages and screens.

A certain breed of film geeks will snap fingers in approval, but most viewers—having been pummeled into acknowledging the film's muscular 'greatness'—will feel little more than dazed, and ready more for a nap than a conversation.