On the fiascos surrounding
Selma and American Sniper, whether or not the Oscars are out of touch, and if
it matters.
Whenever you have a conversation about the Oscars
with a group of people, someone inevitably brings up the following gripe: The Oscars are out of touch with the average
moviegoer. Ignore for a second whether or not this is true. (It is.) What a
statement like that really calls into question is whether or not the Oscars
should care. Should the Oscars actually want to be in touch with the average moviegoer?
It’s very easy to understand why they might want to
be: ratings for the Oscar telecast. Nearly everything the Academy of Motion
Pictures Arts and Sciences (AMPAS) does is financed by the revenue received
from the Oscar telecast. Higher ratings equal higher revenue, so that’s not a
difficult motivation to work out. One of the highest rated Oscar telecast in
history was in 1998, when Titanic was
up for a dozen or so awards. Generally speaking, the more invested the public
is in the nominated films, the more likely they are to watch the show. When the
public hasn’t heard of the nominated films, they could care less about who
wins.
But this is a purely financial consideration to a
problem that ought to not consider financial implications. One of the major
lessons of The Newsroom (aside from
“The internet is the devil” and “The current generation sucks”) is that news
shows are inherently not profitable. They exist for the greater good, not to
make money. They mostly lose startling heaps of money that their conglomerate
parents have to make up elsewhere, probably by jamming more Two and a Half Men down our throats. Good
plans always have necessary evils and unintended consequences. And we’ve seen
what happens when news shows try to be “in touch” with their viewers. We get
lots of stories about puppies.
The Oscars should not succumb to the equivalent of
puppy stories. They exist to award the annual best of an artistic medium.
Whether or not people saw that best makes utterly no difference (or at least
shouldn’t). The reason everyone now thinks the Oscars are out of touch is
because fewer people than ever are seeing the nominees. This has been written
about many times before, and is quite easy to explain--because of the rise of
home entertainment quality and movie availability via things like Netflix and
On Demand, adults largely don’t go to movie theaters anymore. Because that
demographic can no longer be counted on for money, Hollywood no longer makes movies
for them. These are the mid-budget, star-driven dramas that used to be widely
loved Oscar winners, stuff like Rain Man,
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Braveheart, Dances With Wolves, and so many others. Now, movies are largely
only made for the two demographics that dependably pay to see them in theaters:
teenagers and cinephiles. The teenagers get the summer franchise movies, and
the hardcore movie snobs get the art-house movies. The art-house movies now get
all the Oscar nominations because, well, what else would? Movies that cost
between 20 million and 120 million to make just don’t exist anymore. It’s all
one extreme or the other.
Here’s a fun (and depressing!) exercise: Ask the
next teenager you encounter if they’ve seen—or even heard of—your favorite
movie. Likely, they’ll say no. Does this mean your favorite movie actually
isn’t that good, or that your taste is out of touch? This is the exact problem
AMPAS runs into every year, just on a much wider scale. They’re hoping a
demographic that clearly hasn’t seen their favorite movies might care about
which ones win awards. Because this problem is largely unsolvable, the solution
is to stop trying to solve it.
Within all of the annual bitching and moaning about
how out of touch the Oscars have been over the last decade, what’s lost is how
they’re actually more in touch now than they’ve been in almost 40 years. It’s
merely a question of in touch with who.
Pick any year from the ‘80s, ‘90s, and ‘00s, and look at which films won the
most Oscars, as well as which films topped the most critics’ lists. You’ll
almost definitely be looking at two different sets of films. Hopefully one or
two titles might overlap, but it just as easily might be zero. That hasn’t been
the case for the last few years. Last year, critics and film snobs spent all
fall arguing over what was better between 12
Years a Slave and Gravity, and
those ended up being the two films going head-to-head for the top Oscars,
ultimately splitting Best Picture and Best Director. This year, the same thing
appears to be happening with Birdman and
Boyhood, one or both of which have
appeared at the top of virtually every single Best of ’14 list I’ve seen. If
they also split the top two Oscars, which is becoming an increasingly more
popular prediction, it will be the second straight year in which the two most
acclaimed films of the year also become the two most handsomely awarded films.
That’s not how it used to go.
The nadir was in 2008, when the two most acclaimed movies
of the year, Wall-E and The Dark Knight, received 14 combined
Oscar nominations, but only one of which was in a “Big Five” category (Wall-E received a Best Original
Screenplay nomination). It was as though every technical and craft category of
AMPAS recognized the genius of these films, but the major clubhouses refused to
let them in. Sci-fi, action, super-heroes, animation… it was an outdated way of
thinking that these “lesser” genres weren’t deserving of playing with the big
boys. Meanwhile, The Reader received
one of those Best Picture slots. Yikes.
This problem was largely fixed the next year, when
both the number of Best Picture nominees changed, as well as the way the
nominating votes are tabulated. Since then, the clubhouse has opened up. We’ve
seen multiple Best Picture nominations go to sci-fi (Avatar, Inception, District 9) and animation (Toy Story 3 and Up). And although a main-stream super-hero film still hasn’t
received a Best Picture nomination, that could be because there just hasn’t
been one as good as Dark Knight. And
hey, Birdman kinda counts, right?
(Just nod.)
In the six years since the rule changes, you’d be
hard-pressed to find a critical consensus Top-Ten-of-the-year film that didn’t
receive a Best Picture nomination. The Oscars are actually more in touch now than
they’ve been since the heyday of the second Hollywood Golden Age of the 1970s,
when audiences and critics largely agreed on what the best films were, and
there was a run of total-classic Best Picture winners like The French Connection, The
Godfather, Annie Hall, and the
aforementioned One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest, as well as several near-winners like Chinatown, Network, and Apocalypse Now. The only difference now
is the “who” that the Oscars are in
touch with. Mainstream audiences simply took themselves out of the equation.
You can’t bitch about who wins Prom Queen if you don’t even care about going to
Prom. There were some painful adjustment years, culminating in the 2008 fiasco,
but now we’re in a better place, where the best movies are getting awarded at a
higher average than we’ve seen in two generations.
Is everything fixed now? No, of course not. There is
no voting body in the history of organized society that has ever gotten
everything right. Expecting the Oscars to do so and excoriating them for
failing is an argument that will never, ever be fair. Just a few years ago, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close received
a Best Picture nomination, and that was a moment that unified us all in its
horror. This year, there are equal and conflicting brouhahas over how many
nominations Selma failed to get and American Sniper succeeded in getting. In
both cases, the arguments are devolving into fights we shouldn’t be having,
fights which actively undermine everything the Oscars hope to be about.
There’ve been several high profile pieces written
about why Selma only received two
nominations, and they all boiled down to the same four theories: The Academy is
racist, the Academy has “race story fatigue” (having just given Best Picture to
12 Years a Slave last year), the film’s
campaign wasn’t run well enough, or the historical liberties taken—specifically
in regards to the portrayal of LBJ—were too far and too offensive. Could any or
all of these theories have at least somewhat contributed to why Selma didn’t get many nominations? Sure,
I guess. But what I find really sad and pretty offensive is that none of these
theorizers theorized the simplest theory of all—that Selma just wasn’t that great.
Does Selma tell
a good story? Of course it does, in the same way that reading the Wikipedia
page on MLK tells a good story. That’s really what Selma was—a Wikipedia page brought to life. It was the best
possible outcome of a paint-by-numbers. But there weren’t any interesting
artistic choices taken in Selma. It
was a film with the great craft and skill of filmmaking, but without any of the
art. After seeing Selma, I went back
and re-watched Spike Lee’s daring Malcolm
X (1992), which I’d only seen once, ten years earlier. I felt compelled to
prove to myself that you could create a worthy portrait of an important figure
without sacrificing artistic risk and style. Believe it or not, you can! Malcolm X also only received two Oscar
nominations, and in 1992, race may have been a bigger factor in that, as well
as The Oscars still having been in the phase of predominantly awarding movies
that really connected with a mass audience, which Spike Lee was certainly not
doing at the time. (Even The Crying Game,
which was partially a transgender story, made 14 million dollars more than Malcolm X at the 1992 American box
office, if that tells you anything about how unready mainstream moviegoers were
for early Spike Lee.) 22 years later, we’re in a better place, and when you stand Selma up to something like Birdman or Whiplash, where the visceral excitement of great art is just
constantly digging into you with every moment, there’s just
no comparison. It’s unfortunate that when an un-amazingly told story isn’t
recognized as amazing, our collective reaction is to immediately assume race
must be a factor.
The race fatigue argument might be even worse. To
suggest that 12 Years a Slave winning
last year might be why the Academy showed indifference to Selma this year is to assume the two films operated on similar
levels of worthiness, and that discredits the accomplishment of 12 Years a Slave. The single scene ofSolomon Northrup hanging from a tree, barely kept alive by the faintest tips of
his toes, forcibly shown to us with no music, no dialogue, and no cutting away
for nearly three full minutes, represents more risk and a more ambitious level
of art than Selma even remotely
flirts with at any point in its 128 minutes. If anything, the Academy’s lack of
awe towards Selma isn’t about race
fatigue in regard to 12 Years a Slave,
but rather in remembrance to how great 12
Years a Slave really was, and recognition that Selma just doesn’t operate on a similar level.
American
Sniper finds itself in an entirely different controversy.
Instead of a movie that requires the public to manufacture reasons why the
Academy didn’t laud it enough, here’s a movie that the public is trying to
understand why the Academy undeservedly lauded it too much. Or did they? American Sniper received six
nominations, and at least three of them (Film Editing, Sound Editing, and Sound
Mixing) are probably deserved no matter how awful you think the movie is.
Bradley Cooper also received one of the nominations, his third in a row for
Best Actor, and it’s useful to remember here that a nomination for acting is
not an endorsement for a film. Whether or not Cooper deserved to be among the
final five names is a more subjective argument than I’ll get into here (I’d say
no, but whatever), but he did do a good job in the film, and the Academy
clearly loves him. If you want to argue that his nomination is proof the
Academy irrationally likes a bad movie, then you also have to pretend to forget
his Best Actor nomination last year, for American
Hustle, which equally caught prognosticators by surprise.
The gist, then, of the “Why does AMPAS love American Sniper so much?” controversy
rests solely on the shoulders of the Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Picture
nominations, with the Screenplay nod being the especially tricky one. But
here’s what no one is seeing, saying, or realizing: Captain Phillips was nominated for the exact same six Oscars last year. Phillips also received highly deserved nominations for Film
Editing, Sound Editing, and Sound Mixing, a we-love-him-and-he-was-good
nomination for Tom Hanks, an okay-sure-I-guess Best Picture nomination, and a
deeply suspect Best Adapted Screenplay nomination. In both cases, AMPAS chose
to recognize a highly tense, well acted, and technically well-crafted movie,
which largely ignored the moral quagmire of the US military celebrating the
sniper assassinations of poor, third world brown people. Am I over-simplifying
the political stance of both stories? Of course! But the problem is, so do the
movies themselves. Neither film digs deep into the morality of the situations
they play in, and neither film has any idea what it’s trying to say. So yeah,
both Adapted Screenplay nominations are pretty problematic. But remember the
part several paragraphs ago where I reminded you that no voting body ever gets
everything right? Yeah, this is one of those. A bad result in Oscar voting does
not invalidate the Oscars in the same way Michelle Bachmann having won four
congressional elections does not invalidate the American government.
As to the Best Picture nominations for both films,
you just have to chalk that up to what critic Anne Thompson calls “The Steak Eaters,” which are the faction of AMPAS that want a Best Picture nominee to
look like such, with a budget that visibly appears on screen and a result that
screams “We are Hollywood and this is what we do bitches!” This year, the Steak
Eaters only had one kind of steak on the menu, so we can’t be too surprised
that they ordered it.
In any case, what’s great about the Oscars right now
is that we generally expect the nominations to get it right. (Just go ahead and
mentally add “for the most part” to the end of every sentence in this
paragraph. Thanks.) We’re having these arguments because what happened with Selma and American Sniper actually shocked people. Comparatively few people
were shocked in 2008 when Wall-E and The Dark Knight failed to receive Best
Picture nominations, or Do the Right
Thing in ’89, Malcolm X in ’92, Boogie Nights in ’97, Being John Malkovich in ’99, or so, so many others. We spent almost three
whole decades from the dawn of the ‘80s to 2008 expecting the Academy to screw
it up with regular frequency. Then, in 2009, when The Hurt Locker became the lowest grossing Best Picture winner in
history, it was like AMPAS screamed from the rooftops that they no longer cared
about being in touch with what audiences were seeing, if audiences couldn’t bother
getting themselves to the right movies. Two years ago, Grantland writer Chris
Ryan referred to the Oscars as a “first draft of history.” It’s a great way to
think about them, and what’s even greater is that lately the first draft has
needed far less work-shopping.
For the most part.
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