A few years ago I hosted an Oscars party chez nous.
We acquired an end-roll of red carpet, and big gold stars with guests’ names lined the floor, Hollywood Walk of Fame style. I squeezed into a swanky dress. There was pre-show movie trivia, and a slideshow of name-the-celeb-baby. Even the food was paired with nominees: there was a lot of raspberry coulis, as I recall, a nod to Inglourious Basterds.
I’m an Oscars dork, I’ll admit it. My cynical and far-artsier friends have been pooh-poohing the commercialism and back-door dealings of the Oscars for years, pointing to crooked campaigns (Harvey Weinstein’s victory for Shakespeare in Love over Saving Private Ryan is a case study) and the old white-guys’ club – changing at a snail’s pace – that is the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
This year I’m watching solo, in sweatpants, eating whatever Costco appetizers have fared best against freezer burn (I see you, chicken egg rolls). I’ll make it until the end, but only because I’m secretly hopeful there will be a spectacular last-minute Best Picture mix-up – à la La La Land – to liven things up a little.
According to Nielsen ratings, the 26.6 million viewers averaged from last year’s program was down 19 per cent from the 2017 show, and a full 39 per cent down from a recent high in 2014. Viewers aged 18-34 fell a whopping 56 per cent. No one even wants to host it.
As with everything else, the internet is to blame, both for declining multiplex attendance and awards antipathy. Why sit through a four-hour long program when you can see all the dresses on Insta, and listen to the acceptance speeches on YouTube?
Plus, those speeches are kind of a drag lately. I’m all for using a very public stage as an opportunity to do good; but can we all agree that you don’t get to make a stand for women’s rights/minority representation/climate change and talk angrily over the music playing you offstage when you spent the first 40 seconds thanking your team?
A 45-second time limit on thank-yous was imposed in 2010. Greer Garson gave the Longest Oscar Acceptance Speech when she won for Mrs. Miniver in 1943 and rambled on for five and a half minutes. Alfred Hitchcock, upon winning the Irving B. Thalberg honour in 1968, needed only five words: “Thank you. Very much indeed.” Patty Duke bested him when she won for The Miracle Worker with a heartfelt two words: “Thank you.”
Not feeling particularly grateful are the films snubbed by the Academy this year. Take Eighth Grade, one of the most critically acclaimed films of 2019. Writer/director Bo Burnham won Best First-Time Director from the Directors Guild of America and Best Screenplay at the Writers Guild of America awards, yet the film was entirely shut out of Oscar contention. “To the other nominees in the category: Have fun at the Oscars, losers!” Burnham joked when he received his WGA.
The Best Director category leads the way in Oscar snubs, thanks to Bradley Cooper being left out while his film, A Star Is Born, picked up seven noms. Peter Farrelly (Green Book) and Ryan Coogler (Black Panther) were similarly omitted. But in fact, the most notable name left off the list was a woman’s, any woman’s. The Rider was my pick (along with Roma) for best film of the year, and the National Society of Film Critics felt the same, yet Chloe Zhao’s name was omitted. Ditto Debra Granik (the excellent Leave No Trace) and Lynne Ramsay, who received accolades and a Cannes screenwriting prize for You Were Never Really Here, starring Joaquin Phoenix. Can You Ever Forgive Me? received three nominations, including Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor and Best Adapted Screenplay, but director Marielle Heller didn’t make the cut. Kathryn Bigelow is the only woman ever to win Best Director, for 2009’s The Hurt Locker. Nominees were ultimately Alfonso Cuaron (Roma), Spike Lee (BlacKkKlansman), Yorgos Lanthimos (The Favourite), Adam McKay (Vice) and Pawel Pawlikowski (Cold War).
While we’re complaining, let’s discuss other films and talent that was overlooked, shall we?
Ah, Best Picture. They don’t always get it right: in 1942 How Green Was My Valley won over Citizen Kane, after all. Roma and The Favourite lead the pack, with 10 nominations each. Other Best Picture contenders include Green Book, Vice, A Star Is Born, Blackkklansman, Black Panther and Bohemian Rhapsody. But I would happily trim at least two films off that list in favour of Widows.
Ethan Hawke must be drinking whisky and Pepto Bismol for reals after receiving almost every critics’ award possible and then hearing crickets on nomination morning. It’s also a surprise Robert Redford wasn’t included in the Best Actor group for his old-school charm in Old Man With A Gun. Ditto Ryan Gosling for First Man. Making the cut were Christian Bale (for Vice), Bradley Cooper (for A Star Is Born), Willem Dafoe (for At Eternity’s Gate), Rami Malek (for Bohemian Rhapsody) and Viggo Mortensen (for Green Book).
Elsie Fisher. That’s all I’m going to say about the Best Actress category, where Olivia Colman (The Favourite), Lady Gaga (A Star Is Born), Melissa McCarthy (Can You Ever Forgive Me?), Glenn Close (The Wife) and Yalitza Aparicio (Roma) were nominated. No Saoirse Ronan (Mary Queen of Scots; was it the accent, guys?). And OK, things got a little bizarre in Hereditary but Toni Colette should’ve been in this group for sure.
Won’t You Be My Neighbor was excluded from Best Documentary contention and Paddington 2, a joyous film if ever there was one, was shut out altogether (Dear Academy, are you people animals?). Condolences to director Paul Dano, Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal (Wildlife). Ditto Claire Foy (First Man), Timothee Chalamet (Beautiful Boy) and Killmonger a.k.a. Michael B. Jordan (Black Panther).
It’s not all bad: the Academy reversed an unpopular decision to air some of its awards during commercial breaks, so make sure you clap extra loudly for the Cinematography and Makeup and Hairstyling awards. All the nominated songs will be performed, a reversal of the insulting move to pare it down to two. The Academy has promised more A-list presenters in lieu of a host. And you never know: there’s always the outside chance that someone will recite their thank-you in limerick or haiku, for example, or impersonate the other nominees in their category in under 45 seconds.
Because it’s that kind of spontaneity, not a shortened running time, that the Oscars ceremony needs. Give me some of that and I’ll dust off the red carpet next year; I’ll even throw in some egg rolls.
