OSCAR - Only Seriousfilm Considered And Rewarded
self-reward for hilarious opening gag sets tone about meaningless statuette rant
As much as it's still a remarkable achievement to win, or even be nominated for, an Academy Award (more so, given the democratisation of technology), it appears that to win Best Picture these days, you have to adhere to a strict criteria:
- 'Middlebrow'. Tackles an 'issue' rather than a 'concept'.
- Weighty lead roles by middlebrow actors; actors who have never, even accidentally, appeared in a screwball comedy.
- Preferably a veteran of Hollywood directing.
- A relative marriage of scale and tastefulness.
- Major studio backed.
Other caveats that come into play often are some notion of reward for culmulative effort (Danny Boyle this year), the well-made biopic/film that retells a moment in a famous person's life that allegorises their life (the last five years have been very heavy on this: The Aviator, Ray, Capote, The Queen, Michael Clayton, Frost/Nixon, Milk) and occasionally a musical will squeeze through the net to placate various groups.
To think that this year's nominees are the pre-eminent 'superior pictures' is somewhat misguided, it's just that this year's best films fall into the net assembled by the Academy to catch those excellent works not meeting the criteria above. And don't think this is some pro-independence/anti-Hollywood diatribe; Hollywood and other 'large system' methods are increasingly finding money for alternative voices, whereas independent cinema seems stuck in a rut, at least in its English-speaking heartlands.
The Dark Knight, for instance, despite its flaws, is a better film on every conceivable level than The Reader. The former is exciting, keen, visual, metaphorical, exploratory and tumultuous whereas the latter is dour, safe, pseudo-intellectual, literal, flaccid and smug. The former is a cinematic experience, as much as the tale stands on its own merits, it takes advantage of all of the things the anti-piracy/pro-cinema adverts want you to believe. The latter would struggle to look classy on The Hallmark Channel. However, The Dark Knight wins recognition for everything apart the film itself or its director; shoved into a niche, a number to put on the poster.
A better film than all nominated was Werner Herzog's Encounters At The End Of The World. As good as those were Waltz With Bashir and the peerless Wall-E. But they're niche films: documentary, foreign and animated respectively. And no clever marketing strategy, 'culmulative effort' pleas or implorations of the work's gravitas is going to crack the hegemony of the Best Picture nomination circle jerk.
Largely, it has always been this way. Post-war exceptions to the rule, and possible explainations for it, are:
Marty (1955) - a weak year, a reaction to a true heavyweight the previous year, Paddy Chayevsky on board.
- The Sting (1973) - other nominations split the vote, marquee cast. Noteably this year saw a Swedish film (Cries and Whispers) nominated for the central gong, so perhaps everyone went mad in this year.
- Annie Hall (1977) - weak opposition, a 'coming of age',
- Shakespeare In Love (1998) - weak opposition, strong cast, no apparent flaws, not strictly a 'comedy'.
As alluded in my glib sub-heading, these awards are ultimately meaningless. It's just that the idea that people are talking about essentially decent-or-not-even films such as The Reader, Frost/Nixon or - and I hate to say this, as a fan of Danny Boyle - Slumdog Millionaire as 'the best picture' makes something in my throat feel a little dry. One is reminded of those god-awful Q Awards where the 'best act in the world today' is some dreadful guitar-slinging white bunch for Mondeo drivers. Coldplay indeed.
