Justin: The early returns are in on this year’s Academy Awards, and Oscar seems to be, well, flat. Ratings reports on the Sunday telecast say 39.3 million people watched the spectacle, a minor increase over last year. And the prized 18 - 49 demographic? It was essentially the same as 2010.
“Essentially the same” would also describe the proceedings, which, for some reasons still unknown to me, I decided to watch. That may be the hate-mongering spectator in me, but I did it, and, wonders of Westwood, it was utterly predictable and stone boring. There are sad parades, there are clown car accidents, and then there’s what Billy Crystal had to do the other night. Never has watching three hours of self love felt so bad, if not tiring and outright confusing. (And yes, some of that confusion was directed at myself. Kicking myself for not watching Archer on DVR…but I digress)
Though it’s not really a word, I can’t help but feel that “meh” accurately describes the year in film. I didn’t see any of the films nominated for Best Picture, or any of those for the lead actor categories. (I did enjoy the Muppets, so good on you Brett McKenzie (and I’m sure he’ll remember to thank Jason Segel next time.) So for such a lackluster year in movies it only makes sense film’s finest hour would measure up the same.
And again, America backs us up here. We know we harp on this regularly, but it needs to be said again, box office receipts are down, and whether that has to do with prices or the product on screens, the Oscars have followed suit.
You would think this would be easy pickings for us, right? We like to think of ourselves as high minded stewards of culture, but when it comes down to it we will drop a flying elbow on someone while they are down. The Oscars, would seem ripe for that ridicule, but here’s the weird thing: We’re just not feeling it. That’s notable not just because we’re dedicated to chronicling the ebb and flow of pop culture on the PT, but because we once in a previous lifetime spent an Oscar night live-blogging the shit out of that show. And it was glorious.
As much as we have editorial meetings here at Brannigan’s Law (which is to say, chat over email), we had a hell of a time trying to write about this year’s affair. And I get the sense we were not alone.
I’m thinking this ambivalence is spreading, and maybe is telling about the direction movies and entertainment are going in. As much as the Oscars is about recognizing the best of an industry, it’s also a shrewd marketing move to not so subtly remind people how great you are on a annual basis for 84 years. And now, both seem to be in decline. While some are offering up their suggestions on how to fix the awards, maybe it’s time to stop and consider what it all means that we (as a proxy for you, America) just don’t care about the Oscars, and by extension, movies?
Dennis: You know the old saying, if “watching three hours of self-love” feels bad, they’re doing it wrong…
I, semi-sadly chose to work (or rather, chose not to not work) and missed the show. Semi-sadly I say, as I’ve always had a soft spot for the Oscars. You know, like a newborn baby’s, all soft, and squishy, and easily and thoughtlessly pushed too far, leading to confusion, depression, and a lifetime of movie-related mental problems. Did that analogy careen off the rails? Maybe. But my point remains- I like the Oscars. Sure, they suck- overproduced, hamstrung hosts, time-wasting, self-congratulatory montages, utterly-unnecessary production numbers, interminable presenter introductions of the nominees, and, oh yeah, they get everything wrong.
But apart from that…
I guess I always, even after my youthful movie geek wised up to the oft-soul-crushing disappointments of the world, approached the annual frock parade and celebrity stroke-off with a glimmer of innocent hope. Maybe they’ll get it right this time! Or, you know, maybe they’ll get one right at least. For every middle of the road, market-and publicity-driven fait accompli fuckup roster of winners, there’s usually at least one “small good thing” (as Raymond Carver almost certainly did not mean when he wrote that) to take away from the whole thing. Sure, Dances with Wolves might have swept to maudlin, embarrassing victory over, among others, Goodfellas, but…
POINT ABORTED!!!
I was going to go on about how there’s always one good thing even in the worst Oscars, but even my typically-cursory research crapped all over my point. Sure, maybe Joe Pesci won for supporting actor in the year that Dances with Wolves beat Goodfellas, but Dances with Wolves beat Goodfellas!!! (Not to mention the un-nominated Miller’s Crossing, which I think is a better “mob movie” in every way…) And then there’s the Titanic year, and the fucking Forrest Gump year, and on and on…
Get a grip, old boy.
I think the thing that is most important to remember about the Oscars is- it’s the Oscars. A hopelessly inside, overwhelmingly-old, depressingly-white, distressingly-male bastion of Hollywood power players who, if they bother to see all of the films they’re voting on in the first place, are not only blinkered, collectively, by that aforementioned narrow cross-section, but also, inclined to favor the films they or the people they know are associated with. These are not cutting-edge cinematic adventurers taking the time to seek out arthouse screenings of things unhooked from the Hollywood hype machine. They’re industry professionals giving their votes to colleagues’ films, and a cursory glance at the mountain of screeners sent to them. So, inevitably, you’re gonna get a thin stew of above-average prestige pictures from established stars, megahits by power players too important too piss off, well-intentioned (usually “based on a true story”) do-goodery, or critically-acclaimed half-artsy stuff that they just can’t ignore in fear of looking out of touch. Throw in a pity nomination to a minority or who’ll “just be honored to be nominated,” and maybe the equivalent of a “lifetime achievement” nomination for someone you just realized might die without winning anything, and viola!- Oscar soup. Bland, starchy, and completely-unsatisfying.
So why do I watch (you know, when I’m not working)? I guess I like the speeches (which means, of course, that the winners get 90 seconds while some prancy, overchoreographed musical number gets six minutes.) I like when the good guy/gal wins unexpectedly, of course, but I even like it when some megawatt star gets a little weepy up there. Of course, my schadenfreude boner kicks in when someone I genuinely dislike makes an ass of him-herself (the James Cameron “king of the world” speech comes to mind), but it’s the unexpectedly-human gratitude and bewilderment that sometimes undoes even the most seasoned Hollywood glamorpuss that really keeps me coming back. I was genuinely moved when Halle Berry got all emotional and started naming all her black actress colleagues who deserved a chance in her best actress speech for Monsters Ball, and so, I think, was she. Frankly, she’s not a good enough actress to have faked it. I like it when little kids win; Anna Paquin gulping and looking genuinely freaked out when she won for supporting actress put me solidly in her corner (at least until I got a load of her ‘True Blood’ accent.) I relished Roberto Begnini’s utterly-insane, and delightfully-indecorous, exuberance (at least until I realized, about the same time as the rest of the world, that he’s essentially Italy’s Robin Williams.) I teared up for the Hollywood-proof genuine amazement and honest emotion of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova’s speech after winning the original song Oscar for the utterly-lovely “Falling Slowly”- and at Jon Stewart’s unprecedented move of bringing Irglova back out after commercial because the band had cut her off. And, post-Oscar career be damned, I couldn’t have been more happy for another person on the planet than I was for Cuba Gooding Jr.- his spazzy delight at winning an Oscar was my feel-good moment of whatever year that was. The sight of a young black actor (whose stunning debut in Boyz n the Hood should have won him an award or two) storming the stage and charming the world seemed to be the beginning of a storied career- the fact that he’s often pointed at as a joke still makes me pissed off on his behalf. There are a lot more.
So…whatever, I guess. (That should be the Oscars’ motto- it’s most definitely its legacy.) It exists. It gives some deserving people a chance to do other things from time to time, and it gives us nerds a chance, invariably, to bitch about it every year. (Like HERE, for example.) Isn’t that all we could ask? (Answer: no, no it isn’t.)
Image courtesy of dlisted.
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