Heart on a Stick
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“Because You Can’t Have Despair Without Hope”
posted 02/26/2007
[pics via]
Where Al Gore goes, confetti follows.
The something-somethingth annual Academy Awards have ended – at least, I think they have, I’m a bit afraid to check – and I can’t summon any outrage this year. Mostly, probably, because I saw very few movies, this year. Can’t get upset over the upsets. I’m sure somebody was robbed. But at least no one was Rob Lowed:
(“When you’re down in the dumps, just put on Judy’s red pumps.” You can almost hear the audience cringe when Lily Tomlin says, “And think of it, more than a billion and a half people just watched that.”)
The theme to this year’s broadcast, at least for its first hundred hours, was “It’s an honor just to be nominated!” There was no Zelig-style appropriation of iconic scenes from the year's films at the top of the program. Instead, Errol Morris chopped together a bunch of interviews through which we were introduced to the faces behind some of the lowest-grossing nominees in the awards’ history. Like all things Oscar it was about twice as long as it should have been, but amassed so many moments there were bound to be a few good ones. During a series of shots in which folks mentioned whom they’d thank if they won, one person said, “Stan Brakhage;” his partner, standing next to him, paused and went: “Wow.”
Stan Brakhage never got thanked. But someone named Tipper did, and Red Sonja warranted a mention. Hooray, Oscar!
The “get to know the nominees” thing – all were standing by their seats when we went live to the Kodak Theater – could only combat the lack of star power for so long. We love stars. We love Jack Nicholson. We love how, apparently, Jack Nicholson took a picture of Britney Spears to his stylist and said, “Make me look like that.”
People complain about the Oscars being popularity contests, but that popularity provides a certain amount of exposition. Everyone knows who Julia Roberts and Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg are. That helps. The broadcast already must (or, at least, has decided it must) define its Best Picture nominees and (ugh) its Best Song nominees; it can’t afford the time to delve into the personalities behind 116 nominations.
Every year they try to explain the difference between BEST SOUND MIXING and BEST SOUND EDITING and I still don’t have a clue.
The people we want to know are the winners, and we want to know them through their speeches; we want to share in their winning. So bring ‘em up, knock ‘em down. Nearly four-fifths of the people we’ll get introduced to during the ceremony are going to be losers. We all spend enough time with losers, don’t we? C’mon, Academy: One of the biggest nominated stars was Al Gore. And is there a more famous loser around?
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The announcer introduced one presenter as “Academy Award-Winning screenwriter, Ben Affleck.” That’s right: Eight of the nominated writers named tonight won’t be as accomplished as Ben Affleck.
*Also, they probably won’t get to fuck Jennifer Garner.
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She’s good!
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Or so I hear.
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Another potential hurdle: These Oscars were more international than a stack of pancakes. The show decided to embrace this, and had Ellen DeGeneres rattling off actors’ names and countries of origin with pride. Penelope Cruz was reclassified, so’s Ellen’d have another Mexican to point at. We are understanding and efficient!
Cineastes celebrate the diversity and the studios shrug [Everything will get co-opted. Just look at Mexico’s celebrated (and nominated) “Three Amigos:” Alejandro Iñárritu’s last two films (Babel, 21 Grams) have been primarily in English and have featured Hollywood stars (Brad Pitt, Sean Penn); Alfonso Cuarón (Children of Men) has spent the last dozen years making English-language films (including a Harry Potter), though it took Y tu Mamá También to revive his career; Guillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth) alternates between American (Hellboy, Blade 2) and Spanish productions.] Rejoice! America – with its monopolized megaplexes and downsizing panic and giant border walls – is opening its eyes!
But plugging its ears. Oskar Internacional equals a lot of pidgin at the podium. Both presenters and winners get all ESL on our ass. Yeah, I know: Penelope Cruz’ English is a lot better than my Mexican. That’s why my Ugly American mug ain’t on the Telemundo. It's bad television.
And in the end, how affirmative were Oscar’s actions? Best Picture, Director and Adapted Screenplay went to the highest-grossing nominee, an American remake of a foreign film. Not a single major award went to anything in a foreign language. Helen Mirren won for The Queen, but Brits are no strangers to acting honors.
We’ve come a long way! Just a couple years ago, Almodóvar won Best Original Script for Talk to Her; a decade ago, Roberto Benigni won Best Actor. Spain’s Pan’s Labyrinth won three awards (cinematography, art direction, make-up), more (I think) than any other single foreign language film has...but foreign craftspeople always win Oscars.
(Speaking of: Milena Canonero, Best Costume winner for Marie Antoinette: For fuck’s sake, you’ve been nominated eight times, and have now won three. PREPARE A SPEECH. Scrawl something phonetically on a card, or just say “Grazi.”)
For all the foreign hubbub, no one knows anything about the German film that won Best Foreign Language Film (though I’ve read that it’s exceptional, and deserving)... except that its director (whose name is – I fuck you not – Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck) speaks fluent English (he attended Oxford) and takes life lessons from Arnold Schwarzenegger.
I felt a bit bad for Ennio Morricone. A five-time Academy Award loser, he finally gets a Lifetime Achievement Oscar and Clint Eastwood royally screws up his intro. (“Should’ve worn my glasses,” Eastwood said.) Don’t worry, Clint. I’m sure everything will go smoothly when then man gets his next Lifetime Achievement Oscar.
I felt bad... until Morricone unleashed upon us the unpleasantness that is Celine Dion. Did you know Ennio’s scored 506 movies? Five hundred and six. And 503 of those are exactly the same; the other three – the ones we care about – have whistling and wah-wah-wahs. Celine did not whistle; nor did she pinch her nose and wah-wah-wah.
Morricone gave his acceptance speech in Italian; Eastwood pretended to translate (“He says he comes in peace! He means us no harm.”). Sadly, he said nothing about L.A. being some giant tit, and sadly, his speech felt three times as long as it was.A last bit of babble: One of the standard, unbearable, endless montages – sorry, this one was “an impressionistic tribute” – featured past Foreign Language Film winners. At least we didn’t have to see the same fucking clip from Network in that one.
¡Estoy muy furioso, y ya no lo aguantaré más!
Of course, later, a Michael Mann-edited impressionistic tribute to “America Through Its Movies” featured a Network clip. But an entirely different Network clip! There was also: an edited tribute to actors playing writers; a salute to that guy from the Police Academy series who made the funny noises; a montage of phone scenes from movies.
That last one might have been an iPhone commercial. Not sure, don’t care. Frankly, I spent most of my time during the Oscars fucking around here. A lot more fun than watching Will Ferrell and Jack Black do anything.
DeGeneres was, as a host, barely there. She has a fan’s presence – she’s done the same running-through-the-aisles routine at other awards shows – and that’s just not enough. She had a couple cute lines, and a good moment with Spielberg and Eastwood in the crowd (taking “a myspace photo”). But an Oscar host has to simultaneously respect the tradition and mock the circumstance. I understand why most people hated Letterman’s Oscars (I loved it)... but isn’t “the Thank-You Cam” just an extrapolated version of the dog that spins when you applaud? No?
It’s hard to shrug hard enough at this show. The feel-good moments – Scorsese finally got his little guy, the American Idol loser showed them good, etc. – were where you expected them to be: At the stand, with the winners. I guess I still can’t figure out why this four-hour show can’t manage to get out of their way.
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Assorted notes:
- Why did DeGeneres come out dressed like Captain Kangaroo?
- Will Smith’s son did his best to make sure it really was about the nominees; he skipped the reading of the envelope and went right on to the next category. Luckily, he was corrected by (eventual Best Supporting Actress loser) Little Miss Sunshine.
Nicole Kidman looked awesome, and I think that had less to do with the dress than with Nicole Kidman. - Jessica Biel – who was at the Oscars because..? – looked pretty awful when compared with the Jessica Biel who was at the Golden Globes.
- The song presentations were not horrible this year. That Randy Newman/James Taylor Carzzzzzzzz ditty was deadly, but Melissa Etheridge still has a good deal of gusto. They smartly had her belt out “I’ve been asleep and I need to wake up now” right after Sweet Baby Jamezzzzzzzzzzz.
- And it helps when actual musicals are involved. The Dreamgirls medley had a good flow, and a good amount of Hudson-Beyoncé tension. It would have been better had Simon Cowell come out and given them both shit at the end, though.
- Oscar’s “gone green.” Riiiiight. I don’t think there’s a more wasteful industry than the business they call show. Going digital helps – sets don’t have to be built and discarded, film chemicals are unnecessary – but as long as there’s ego, there’s waste.
- Gore got the show’s best laugh by getting played off in the middle of the mock-announcement re: his presidential bid.
- Al Gore got the show’s best laugh.
- The dork who accepted the award for Happy Feet... that was the director for fookin’ Mad Max.
- The silhouettes behind the screen were nifty for a little while, and they led to one good DeGeneres quip (“They’re naked”). But too much dicking around, folks.
- Quincy Jones came dressed as Ornette Coleman.
- Why was Gael García Bernal presenting with some dead chick?
- I love that they got the world’s most superficial person – Jerry Seinfeld – to introduce the most socially-aware category – Best Documentary. “Soda-welded!” He was a little out of place, but he’s been sorely missed.
- The Morricone tribute came AT 10:50PM. The Mann-edited piece came AFTER THAT. Director: CUT SEGMENTS IF YOU ARE RUNNING OVER. DO NOT HAVE THE BAND PLAY PEOPLE OFF FASTER.
- Weird announcer factoids as winners took the stage. Usually they say, “This is the second nomination and first win for X.” This time it was: “In order to write Little Miss Sunshine, Michael Arndt had to quit his job as an assistant to Matthew Broderick;” “Martin Scorsese calls The Departed ‘The first movie he’s ever done with a plot;’” “An Indian hand-reader once told [Helen Mirren] her success would not peak until her forties.” ?!
- Oh, hey, Shohei Imamura died. You know, when the plague comes, the “Remembrances” portion of the Oscars is going to take forever.
- Sorry, Philip Seymour Hoffman, did we wake you up?
- We’re selling Cadillacs with The Pogues now? I’m not just bothered by the sell-out aspect... Should we really be thinking about drunk Irishmen when we get behind the wheel?
- Maybe that’s part of our new international mindset.
- There was a great shot, from behind, of Scorsese watching his producer’s speech at the side of the stage. Ever the voyeur, always not a part of it, even when he’s sort of at the center of it.
- As you read this, there are still winners waiting for their go at the “Thank-You Cam.”
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Like I said before, I was a very bad filmgoer this year. Being a less cynical one might have helped me in the Oscar pool...
Best Picture: The Departed. I’m happy for Marty, and I hope it’s good. Yes, I’m smacking myself for missing this in the theater (it’s still playing at the Quad, but that’s not really “a theater”). I don’t have a good excuse. I wasn’t a fan of Infernal Affairs, but it was the perfect sort of movie to remake: A great idea, underexplored.
But: The Best Picture almost never wins Best Picture. So now I’m sort of dreading The Departed. Of the other nominees, I’d seen one – Little Miss Sunshine – and that was mediocre enough that, had it been a drama, I’m sure it would have won. I’d heard bad things about Babel – a shame, as Amores Perros was such a great flick, and 21 Grams was a very good one – but the bad things I’d heard were Crash-y things. And it seemed unlikely the Academy’d make the same mistake two years in a row. Letters from Iwo Jima was in Japanese. So I went with The Queen for an upset, because it seemed stately and safe and respectable.
Best Director: Scorsese was considered a shoo-in, mostly because there wasn’t any great competition. In his strongest years (Raging Bull, Goodfellas) – and even with The Aviator – he’s been beaten by actor-turned-directors (Redford, Costner, Eastwood) because actors make the biggest voting block in the Academy. (Well, that’s one reason.) Eastwood was nominated again, here, but had just won. Assuming the L.A. community hated Scorsese too much to ever let him win, I went with Frears, who is a veteran (a veteran who had his name mispronounced by Spielberg or Coppola). It was awful nice that Scorsese did win, awful nice that the Academy had those other 70s fogeys present the award, and – after Marty stopped rereading the credits for his film – awful nice to hear him talk about how much everyone on the street wanted this for him. Susan Lucci for president!
Best Actress: This wasn’t ever going to be anything but Mirren’s and everyone knew that.
Best Actor: Everyone said Forrest Whitaker, and I’m happy for him, and happy that he came with a prepared speech (his Globes speech was a disaster). But if you’ve caught O’Toole making the rounds for Venus, you’ve seen a man whose body has slowed but whose mind is still sharp. And given that an actor needs both, you don’t know that he’ll ever get another chance. So I hoped for him, and came up short. One of the great ones, Peter O’Toole.
Best Supporting Actor: Eddie Murphy and Alan Arkin were the favorites. I would have been happy with anyone else. I love Arkin, but “the randy, foul-mouthed old person” is such a pathetic, miserable cliché; at least Imogene Coca didn’t get an Oscar for Vacation. I went with Murphy (who’s been doing James Brown as long as he’s been in front of a camera), though I secretly wanted Wahlberg (to make up for the I Heart Huckabees snub).
Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson was undefeatable: She had too good a story and was guaranteed to cry. (Also, she’s supposedly very good.) Her speech was a lot stronger than I expected (for whatever reason)... though it would have been better had Simon Cowell come out and given her shit at the end. “Look what God can do” is a great line... until you think about, well, LIFE ITSELF. And just to make sure: “I definitely have to thank God, I guess, again.” Kiddo, God’s all about the Thank-You Cam.
Best Original Screenplay: Sunshine. This is the “Whatever won at the Independent Sprit Awards last night” award.
Best Adapted Screenplay: I hope The Departed is this good. I went with Borat, because it’s an awfully silly nomination.
Foreign Language Film: I almost went with Others. It’s supposed to be very good, and this is one of the few categories (I think) where voters have to watch the movies they’re voting on.
Documentary Feature: There’s no way the Hollywood Liberal Elite doesn’t vote for Al Gore. Again.
Animated Film: I’m surprised Cars didn’t win. And people who like Monster House seem to really like Monster House. Had no idea the gay penguin flick was so beloved.
Art Direction/Make-Up/Cinematography: Here’s what makes Pan’s Labyrinth perfect award stuff for the artisan categories: It’s half historical drama, half fantasy film. Gets to flex both the research and imagination muscles. I’m surprised Children of Men didn’t get cinematography as it got the Cinematographer’s Guild award... and a little saddened as it’s a pretty amazing visual film (I have seen Children, and Labyrinth). It sort of deserves a special mise en scène award for grabbing shit and forcing it into frame, and for seamless digital integration of shit. There’s some amazing stuff in the movie (though something about the story itself struck me as too straightforward) and it should get something. Hopefully, your attention.
Costume: Always go with the Italian, if one is nominated. If there are two, flip a coin.
Documentary Short: Go with the longest title.
Editing: Went to The Departed. I guessed at United 93, thinking the Academy would want to give something to a 9/11 film (and they did; they gave it two nominations, hooray!) and that the real-time gimmick would be enough gamesmanship to win here.
Score: Babel. Total Guess. Same guy won last year.
Song: In retrospect, it makes sense the three Dreamgirls songs would split the vote. But “Listen” was such an omnipresent single that I went with it.
Short, Animated: “Little Match Girl” is Disney’s re-entry into hand-drawn stuff, so I thought it would score a sentimental vote. I know nothing about winner “Danish Poet.”
Short, Live-Action: “West Bank Story.” The trailer is funny, it’s a musical, it’s about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Couldn’t have been a surer lock unless the cast included Helen Mirren.
Sound Editing/Mixing: I usually just pick the biggest, loudest nominee (here, Pirates) and vote for it in both categories. I think I went with Dreamgirls because, having been snubbed so hard in major categories, it made sense folks would make amends here.
Visual Effects: Pirates. This is where they honor the movie with the biggest box office, every year.
YES? YOU THERE IN THE BACK?