Anyone can enjoy the good life, because the usual prerequisites for those trappings—income, status, lineage—are either irrelevant or nonexistent. Wealth is arbitrary. It’s a brave new world, indeed.
Visions of Woodbury are already flooding my memory. But what if it’s not so suspicious this time? What if this town really does have its shit together and our guys are suddenly the weird, scary ones? Every yellow brick road in this show leads to some very fucked-up shit behind the curtain.
With the numbers dwindling and hope for the future coming in increasingly short supply, who in the current bound-for-Washington crew is—at least from a narrative perspective—untouchable?
The only way Birdman loses this one is if Wes Anderson gets hit by a train in the next forty-eight hours.