As long as there are Oscars, there will continue
to be Oscar-gunchers.
If big-budget romances like Titanic take home the statues, pundits
complain about commercialism. If unusual, high-quality films like Birdman and Boyhood win, they argue that the Academy has lost touch with the
viewing public.
The New
York Times recently ran an article declaiming a "gap"
between movie-goers and the academy. Duh! There's supposed to be a gap. If the
point were merely to celebrate the movies everyone likes, there would be no
need for an Academy or a vote. The awards could be given out based on
box-office receipts.
The point is to reward and celebrate artistry,
not Saturday matinee entertainment or least-common-denominator pandering.
And no matter who wins, the results are always
fodder for social analysis from several (not multiple) points of view.
This year's Oscar ceremony was one of the best.
Perhaps I say that because I actually saw most of the films in contention. The
MC, Neil Patrick Harris, while not in the same
category as Bob Hope, Johnny Carson, or Billy Crystal, did a
better-than-average job of keeping the event moving along. The worst thing about his shtick was the
running joke about his own predictions, which were ensconced in an inviolable
Plexiglas case on stage. It was harmless but really, who cares?
Before the show the red carpet was agog with
beautiful women in odd and sometimes striking dresses saying they were just
there to "enjoy the moment." It reached a high (or low) point when
the star of Fifty Shades of Gray,
Dakota Johnson, tried to convince her mom, Melanie Griffith, to see the film.
Melanie's own mom, Tippi Hedren, is from New Ulm,
Minnesota. I remember Melanie herself as an eight-year-old girl in Arthur
Penn's minor masterpiece, Night Moves.
These are the thoughts that go through people's minds as they reconnect with
the Oscars, year after year. It's part of what makes the movies fun.
We didn't have to look at Jack Nicholson's
grinning maw this year: that's good news (though Jack was in a long string of
great films back in the seventies, as everyone knows). And the tiresome Meryl
Streep references were kept largely under control. I even liked most of the
songs, though the tribute to The Sound of
Music seemed arbitrary and lame, Lady Gaga or not.
I suppose in 2042 , if the planet still exists,
they'll do a tribute to Wayne's World?
Bunching the best picture candidates into
groups was weird but (once again) moved the show along. The clips were uniformly great. And awards recipients voiced a large number of social concerns with sincerity and true feeling--a tradition dating back to the Brando era at least.
Artists still seem to be thrilled to receive
these awards, and chagrined when they don't, even if the 36 million who watched the show have "lost touch." Michael Keaton didn't win—too
bad—but the clip they showed of him shouting at Emma Stone might have given us
an indication why.
I'm not sure that Birdman was the best film I saw last year but it might have been. It was powerful and
idiosyncratic—the kind of film that people used to complain never won. It belongs
in the company of several very different but equally powerful films that were
released last year: Mr. Turner, Selma,
Ida, and Boyhood. Two Days, One Night falls into its own minimalist category. Meanwhile, Wild, The Imitation Game, The Theory of
Everything, and Interstellar are also "keepers" on grounds of craftsmanship and entertainment value alone.
Grand Budapest Hotel? Rather a dud, I'm afraid.
Grand Budapest Hotel? Rather a dud, I'm afraid.
Among the documentaries, Verunga and Looking for Vivian Meyers were good, and I heard good things about Timbuktu. Evidently CitizenFour was even better.
In
short, it's been an extraordinary year at the movies, and the Academy did a
good job of celebrating it.
1 comment:
Whiplash - extraordinary -- exhausting. Your cousin Pat
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