(Archive Apr. 2003)
It’s Oscar time again. Time to borrow a bazillion dollar dress and jewels and show up to reward achievements in film and I actually care. I usually try to ignore award shows. It’s becoming a bit difficult because there are so many now. ESPN has an award show? TV Land is having some show where they give out awards for classic TV. Some bored schmuck at VH1 came up with the Big In 2002 awards that turned out to be ironically miniscule in celebrities and relevance. There’s Cable Ace, Kid’s Choice, Lady of Soul -- are the Blockbuster awards still handed out? Most of these are an excuse to get as many pseudo celebrities as possible in the same room and generate interest to sell advertisements at a higher price. If anything is rewarded it’s for whatever made the most money. They reward what is easiest to swallow and most appealing to the mass public instead of more sincere notions of art. The Oscar’s are a bit different. They tend to reward progressive and thought provoking work and genuine talent, even box office bombs. This is not always the case. The Oscars are the epitome of Hollywood politics and power mongering but there’s still enough artistic integrity there to make viewing them worthwhile.
Every entertainment reporter and film critic will make across the board predictions on winners this week. Each will probably be right on some and wrong on others. The Academy is not predictable. The inexplicable upsets each year fuel the gossip machine and befuddle experts. Because I am not an entertainment reporter, expert or film critic and I recognize the volatility of back stabbing starlets I will limit my predictions to three easy locks.
The Best Picture and Best Director will go to Chicago. Easily the most talked about film of the year it succeeds in the Shakespearean tradition of appealing to multiple levels. For the cock fighters and pickpockets on the floor there’s the sexy women, the hand clapping show tunes and sultry violence. For the high brow in the seats there’s the social commentary on media obsessions and creations, the exploration of the relationship between sex and violence and the questioning of what really makes a celebrity. The seemingly inadaptable for film Broadway musical was retooled by the concepts of director Rob Marshall. His idea to have all the singing and dance numbers occur as dreams in the main character, Roxy’s head gave the movie depth and believability. His subsequent reworking of the script to create the aforementioned levels moved Chicago from splashy musical to compelling film. It still wasn’t my cup of tea but the end result is commendable.
The Best Actress will be Nicole Kidman for her role in The Hours for several reasons. For starters, this is Nicole’s year. Oscars for best Actor and Actress often go to the previous year’s biggest upset. Having lost just barely to Halle Berry’s Monster last year she’s due for recompense. There are other ways Hollywood politics are working in her favor. She faired better in public opinion after her break up with Tom Cruise and has had increasing success on her own. Despite her previous good work her longevity was always partially credited to who she was married to more than anything she did on screen. (Too many backhanded references to Kate Capshaw come to mind now for me to choose just one.) She also shut up her shrill defense of unpopular brute Russell Crowe, which can’t hurt her in the polls.
Kidman is at the right place in her career arch. Oscar usually awards dynamite standout performances from actors previously unheard of like Cuba Gooding Junior in Jerry McGuire, Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinney and Hilary Swank in Boys Don’t Cry or they reward long standing actors who have progressively done more significant work and built a reputation. The ladder is the prize at the end of a long journey and can establish an actor as Hollywood royalty. The former can mean sudden death to one’s career. All three of my examples had trouble getting quality work after winning Oscar. Marisa Tormei is finally back on the A-list. Hilary Swank’s role in some formulaic disaster movie perfectly follows the formula for post Oscar disaster. I used to feel sorry for Cuba Gooding Junior but after reading his newest movie’s premise, plot and punch lines are all based on one long, stupid, homophobic joke I now think he deserved the cinematic defecate of Snow Dogs.
There’s one more thing working in Kidman’s favor. The Academy loves the pretty girl gone ugly syndrome. From a pale, plain, poor Berry begging for validation to the sock in Swank’s shorts to Paltrow’s drag in Shakespeare In Love there is a long tradition of confusing downplays in feminine appearance to quality character development. Kidman’s fake schnoz gives her this advantage. When she gets her statue I will be tempted to banally announce she won by a nose but I will resist. One more prediction; others won’t.
The rest of Oscar night is a toss up and I’ll be watching. I admit it’s at least 90% apparel, wealth and status but all that is fun too and a reflection of ourselves starker than any movie. To compensate next week I will attend the DC Film Club’s viewing of a legitimately artistic work followed by “intellectual discussion of real film.” I hope to watch, listen, and learn from these more-indie-than-thou movie elites. Let’s hope my acute knowledge of Tom and Nicole doesn’t get me barred from the room.
