The Academy Awards turn 86 this Sunday, and just like any 86-year-old, some parts of it have aged well (like awarding Citizen Kane with Best Screenplay in 1941) . . . and some others not so much (like awarding How Green Was My Valley Best Picture of 1941 instead). There are two central problems with attempting to evaluate the thinking process of past Oscar voters: Firstly, they lacked the luxury of hindsight when they cast their ballots, and although that isn’t a great defense for those who voted for An American in Paris over A Streetcar Named Desire in 1951, those voters were undoubtedly influenced by factors unrecognizable to modern movie audiences (such as popular tastes, genre conventions, and reputations of individual filmmakers and performers of the time). The second problem is that critiquing movies is inherently a personal, subjective act. I love Kramer vs. Kramer and I think it’s probably the best film ever to win Best Picture, but I also don’t deny that I’m in the minority there.
Therefore, in order to attempt to
erase as much annoying subjectivity as possible, I’ve structured this article
in a particular way. I will use each of
the major eight categories (Original/Adapted Screenplay, Supporting
Actor/Actress, Lead Actor/Actress, Director and Picture) to reconsider the best
and worst individual decisions in Academy Award history. Each category will have five all-time nominees,
except for Best Picture, which will have between 5-10 nominees, just like the
real Oscars. In order to give proper
consideration to the totality of Oscar history, each year will be represented
by one past winner and no more (for example, as noted above, the 1951 Oscars
had some questionable winners, but only one category from that year will be
used). I have tried to eliminate
personal bias as much as possible and think more broadly about the general cultural
consensus that exists about who deserved which award and for what reason.
The final point of this
article? To wax poetics over the great
(and not so great) movies that have graced Oscar history and get excited for
this Sunday’s ceremony!
NOTE: Best Supporting Actor and
Actress were not awarded until 1936. The
Screenplay Awards were not formally divided between Original and Adapted (at
least, the way we recognize them today) only after 1940. The lists here try their best to reflect
those changes, but in some cases, the makeup of the categories is imperfect.
PART I:
The All-Time Worst Winners
Original
Screenplay
1940: The
Great McGinty over Foreign
Correspondent and The Great Dictator
1956: The Red
Balloon over La Strada, The Bold and the Beautiful, and The Ladykillers
1985: Witness over
Back to the Future
1989: Dead
Poets Society over Crimes and
Misdemeanors, Do the Right Thing,
and When Harry Met Sally…
AND THE WINNER IS:
1959: Pillow
Talk over The 400 Blows, North by Northwest, and Wild Strawberries
Preston
Sturges’ lone Oscar win didn’t come for a particularly memorable film, and a
34-minute French film with no dialogue somehow beat out two of the great
European screenplays of the 1950s. Back to the Future lost out to an
unexceptional Harrison Ford police procedural, while a clichéd, sappy ripoff of
Goodbye Mr. Chips beat three of the
most iconic screenplays of the 1980s.
But the most unforgivable injustice
here is Pillow Talk – a breezy but
trivial and unmemorable Doris Day vehicle – somehow beating three of the most
memorable and influential movies of all-time.
Put it this way: When the narrative structure of Wild Strawberries was refitted for contemporary audiences, it came
in the forms of Crimes and Misdemeanors and
Deconstructing Harry. When Pillow
Talk was remade, it was Down With Love.
Case closed.
Adapted
Screenplay
1930: The Big
House over All Quiet on the Western
Front
1936: The
Story of Louis Pasteur over My Man
Godfrey and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town
1937: The Life
of Emile Zola over The Awful Truth
1955: Love Me
or Leave Me over Rebel Without a
Cause
AND THE WINNER IS:
1944: Going My
Way over Double Indemnity
The Big House was
a slimy pre-code prison film with Wallace Beery, while All Quiet on the Western Front was the sound era’s first epic. Louis Pasteur and Emile Zola were interesting
French historical figures who each apparently looked like Paul Muni,
but I doubt contemporary audiences would watch either of those biopics ahead of
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town or The Awful Truth. The screenplay division of Academy voters
apparently loved Doris Day movies, but this one is even less-remembered than Pillow Talk, while every college dorm
has a poster of James Dean in Rebel
Without a Cause located in someone’s room.
But Going My Way over Double
Indemnity? Don’t get me wrong,
everyone loves Bing Crosby’s dopey singing voice and a happy, upbeat portrayal
of the Catholic clergy, but Double
Indemnity vaulted the noir film
to immortality. In addition, it happens
to be probably the best American screenplay of the 1940s, somehow besting even
the legendary James M. Cain novel from which it was based. Of course, Going My Way also somehow beat Double
Indemnity for Best Picture in 1944, which adds insult to injury but also
gives us a better perspective of the distorted mentality of 1944 voters.
Supporting
Actress
1949: Mercedes McCambridge, All the King’s Men over Ethel Waters, Pinky
1976: Beatrice Straight, Network over Jodie Foster, Taxi
Driver
1992: Marisa Tomei, My Cousin Vinny over Judy Davis, Husbands and Wives
2004: Cate Blanchett, The Aviator over Virginia Madsen, Sideways
AND THE WINNER IS:
2003: Renee Zellweger, Cold Mountain over the field (Shohreh Aghdashloo, Patricia
Clarkson, Marcia Gay Harden, Holly Hunter)
McCambridge was one of the most
notoriously bad actresses of her era, while Ethel Waters was one of the most
cruelly underrated due to her race.
Straight was onscreen for five minutes, while Foster exploded onto the
scene in an unglamorous role few well-known child actors would have ever
pursued. Most people agree that Jack
Palance was either drunk or had lofty expectations when he read Tomei’s name at
the 1992 ceremony, while Blanchett’s glorified interpretation of Oscar’s
all-time favorite performer doesn’t hold up to Madsen’s vulnerability and complexity.
But Zellweger winning is truly
indefensible. 2003 wasn’t a great year
for the Supporting Actress, but Zellweger’s performance as the outrageously
colorful, zippy farmhand came off as either an odd imitation of Hattie McDaniel
in Gone With the Wind or
Oscar-baiting at its most shameless. It’s generally agreed that the Academy
felt bad for her snubs for Bridget
Jones’s Diary and Chicago, but
that’s no reason to honor a hack job.
Supporting
Actor
1987: Sean Connery, The Untouchables over Denzel Washington, Cry Freedom
1993: Tommy Lee Jones, The Fugitive over Leonardo DiCaprio, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and John Malkovich, In the Line of Fire
1994: Martin Landau, Ed Wood over Samuel L. Jackson, Pulp
Fiction
1996: Cuba Gooding Jr., Jerry Maguire over William H. Macy, Fargo and Edward Norton, Primal
Fear
AND THE WINNER IS:
1999: Michael Caine, The Cider House Rules over Tom Cruise, Magnolia, Michael Clarke Duncan, The Green Mile and Haley Joel Osment, The Sixth Sense
Connery’s Irish-American brogue was voted
the worst accent in the history of movies (beating out Dick van
Dyke in Mary Poppins – a feat almost
more impressive than the Oscar win), while Jones basically played the same role
he’s been playing since time immemorial, and in the process beat out one of the
most memorable villains (Malkovich) and retards (DiCaprio) ever conceived on
film. Landou was amusing in Ed Wood until he dies midway through the
film, while Cuba Gooding gave an acceptance speech that took more acting chops
than the role he played. Meanwhile,
Jackson, Macy and Norton – three of the best actors of this generation – remain
frustratingly trophy-less.
But Caine’s win in 1999 is
particularly annoying. I even remember
the ceremony it happened, and thinking at the time that it was a grave
mistake. Caine already had an Oscar win
(for a much better performance),
had played the perfunctory “sage-but-loving mentor figure” Oscar loves handing
Supporting Actor awards to, and the win occurred right in the middle of
Miramax’s most egregious Oscar campaigning.
Adding to the frustration is the fact that not only have none of the
other three actors approached the levels of their nominated performances of
1999, but will probably never be nominated ever again (given Duncan’s untimely
death in 2012, Osment’s stints in rehab, and Cruise’s real-life craziness).
Actress
in a Leading Role
1931: Marie Dressler, Min and Bill over Marlene Dietrich, Morocco
1942: Greer Garson, Mrs. Miniver over Bette Davis, Now,
Voyager
1965: Julie Christie, Darling over Julie Andrews, The
Sound of Music
2011: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady over the field (Glenn Close, Viola Davis, Rooney
Mara, and Michelle Williams)
AND THE WINNER IS:
1950: Judy Holliday, Born Yesterday over Bette Davis, All About Eve and Gloria Swanson, Sunset Boulevard
Dressler was a popular older
character actress in the early sound era, but there’s no question between her
and Dietrich who is better remembered and more important. Mrs. Miniver won Best Picture, and there were those great stories
about Garson giving a 45-minute acceptance speech (it was actually only six
minutes, although it still holds the record for all-time length), but when you
think of star power in the woman’s film during the classical era, you think
Bette Davis in Now, Voyager. 1965 voters went for “vogue” rather than
“logical” in their selection of the sexy Julie over the singing Julie, while
Meryl Streep’s imitation of Margaret Thatcher was in a mediocre movie no one
saw.
But Judy Holliday’s win came over
not just one of the all-time great leading actress performances in movie
history, but two of them. How did this ever happen? Legend has it that Davis’ co-star in Eve, Ann Baxter, petitioned for a Best
Actress nomination alongside Davis, which split the votes, leaving Holliday
emerging as the victorious dark horse.
But this still fails to explain how Swanson lost – arguably, her
performance is more memorable and iconic than even Davis. And at the end of the day, All About Eve still won Best Picture,
while Sunset Boulevard ranked #12 on
the AFI’s top films of the 20th Century. Born
Yesterday was remade
in 1993 starring Melanie Griffith and John Goodman. If anyone ever tried to remake All About Eve or Sunset Boulevard – and any current actress was cast as Margo
Channing or Norma Desmond – they would be shot.
Actor
in a Leading Role
1946: Frederic March, The Best Years of Our Lives over James Stewart, It’s a Wonderful Life
1967: Rod Steiger, In the Heat of the Night over Dustin Hoffman, The Graduate and Paul Newman, Cool
Hand Luke
1974: Art
Carney, Harry and Tonto over Jack
Nicholson, Chinatown and Al Pacino, The Godfather Part II
2001: Denzel
Washington in Training Day over
Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind
AND THE WINNER IS:
1943: Paul Lukas in Watch on the Rhine over Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca
March’s and Steiger’s wins make
sense in retrospect, since the Academy swooned over their films and needed to
give out some acting awards (although in the case of Steiger, he is
overshadowed in his own film by Sidney Poitier). No one in 1946 could have possibly imagined
how deeply ingrained in the culture George Bailey would become, while 1967
voters probably knew how important Hoffman and Newman’s roles would be, but were
probably hesitant to award films so quirky and progressive. Carney is great in Harry and Tonto, but when you mention his name, you think “Ed
Norton” before you think of the old guy with the cat that somehow beat out Jake
Gittes and Michael Corleone. And Denzel
is powerful in Training Day, but
instead of thanking the Academy, he should have thanked Russell Crowe’s
unpopular outbursts and their effects on gossip-loving voters.
Rick Blaine is the most iconic
leading character in the history of motion pictures – maybe the most
recognizable fictional figure in the history of American popular culture. As for Lukas, I had to look up on Wikipedia
who actually won Best Actor that year.
Director
1932: Frank Borzage for Bad Girl over Joseph von Sternberg, Shanghai Express
1964: George Cukor, My Fair Lady over Stanley Kubrick, Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
2010: Tom Hooper, The King’s Speech over David Fincher, The Social Network
2012: Ang Lee, Life
of Pi over Ben Affleck, Argo*
AND THE WINNER IS:
1968: Sir Carol Reed, Oliver! over Stanley Kubrick, 2001:
A Space Odyssey
According to Wikipedia, Bad Girl is a 1932 film about "the day-to-day lives and loves of ordinary people going about their ordinary lives." Leave it to the Oscars to reward the dullest movie of the pre-code era instead of giving Best Director to one of the most visionary and unique scenarists of the classical era. Everyone was shocked when That One British Dude Who Directed The King's Speech somehow beat out David Fincher, and even more shocked when Ben Affleck didn't receive an Oscar nomination for the film which ultimately went home with 2012's top award. Instead, Ang Lee went home with the trophy. If we could magically transport back to December 2012, what would have been the odds of that happening? 1000 to 1?
But the real loser here of course is Kurbick, who lost out to two laughably dated musicals, as well as a third loss in 1971 (when he was nominated for A Clockwork Orange). None of those losses really make any sense, but especially not when Sir Carol beat him in 1968. 2001 was Kubrick's most widely seen and economically successful film (it was the top-grossing movie of 1968, earning nearly twice as much money as Oliver!). No other director could have successfully married special effects and philosophical abstraction the way Kubrick did in 2001, and the film has subsequently set the basis for virtually all modern cinematic deep-space science fiction. The only thing memorable about Oliver! was that it announced the death of the musical as a viable Best Picture, becoming the last of its kind to take Oscar's top prize for the next 34 years.
Picture
1933: Cavalcade
over The Private Life of Henry VIII
1935: Mutiny
on the Bounty over Top Hat
1938: You
Can’t Take It With You over Grand
Illusion
1951: An
American in Paris over A Streetcar
Named Desire
1952: The
Greatest Show on Earth over High Noon
1990: Dances
With Wolves over GoodFellas
1998: Shakespeare
in Love over Saving Private Ryan
2005: Crash over
Brokeback Mountain
AND THE WINNER IS:
1941: How
Green Was My Valley over Citizen Kane
1933 voters inexplicably decided the
Brit they wanted to award was Noel Coward rather than Alexander Korda (although
Charles Laughton won Best Actor in one of the more memorable performances from
the early 1930s). Top Hat is the penultimate Astaire-Rogers musical, while Grand Illusion a top-three pick on the
Sight and Sound all-time list. 1951 and
1952 were atrocities, but were they worse than Dances With Wolves beating GoodFellas? We can now chalk the events of 1998 up to a
little studio called Miramax, but how does that account for Brokeback Mountain losing to a film that
came and went during the month of May?
And even though I think Crash is
the better film, the amount of fervor the 2005 race still causes on discussion
boards and at Oscar parties is enough to seriously question whether, in this
case, awarding the right film was even worth it in the first place.
But nothing comes close to 1941,
which became immortalized by two events: The attack on Pearl Harbor and the
release of Citizen Kane. How
Green Was My Valley is now remembered less as a motion picture and more as
the answer to the all-time most-asked Oscar trivia question. Here’s the real question: How much of Kane’s near shutout (it only won for
screenplay) was a result of antipathy by Oscar voters toward Orson Welles and fear
toward William Randolph Hurst’s publishing empire? According to Emanuel Levy in his excellent
book And the Winner Is…: The History and
Politics of the Oscar Awards, Oscar voters opted for the safe ideology of
John Ford over the downbeat, possibly libelous product of a 26-year-old enfant terrible who was popularly
thought to win an award someday. But
this account still doesn’t explain how Oscar voters nonetheless awarded Citizen Kane’s screenplay, the root of
its controversy. Now it’s just funny to look
at How Green Was My Valley beating
out Kane not only in Best Picture,
but also in Art Direction and Editing. In
addition, 1941 voters also completely looked past The Maltese Falcon, which went 0-for-3. Yikes.
PART II:
The All-Time Best Winners
Original
Screenplay
1960: Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond, The Apartment
1986: Woody Allen, Hannah and Her Sisters
2000: Cameron Crowe, Almost Famous
2002: Pedro Almodovar, Talk to Her
AND THE WINNER IS:
1934: Robert Riskin, It Happened One Night
Major props given to the Oscars for
awarding two deeply dark and cynical comedies (The Apartment and Hannah and
Her Sisters) that have stood the test of time. Almost
Famous was far and away a better screenplay than Billy Elliot, Erin Brockovich,
and Gladiator (!) but everyone knows
how notoriously rare it is for the crowd favorite to actually win. Talk to
Her was the winner of an interesting year which also featured a
Spanish-language nominee (Y Tu Mama
Tambien) as well as a film masquerading as a truthful examination of Greek
culture.
But Riskin’s screenplay for It Happened One Night is influential
because it occurred at a crucial point in film history. Sound had become standard practice in
Hollywood films only five years earlier, and it had fundamentally shifted the
mode of film production away from grand aesthetic spectacles and more
dialogue-driven narratives. It Happened One Night was the first
comedy to win Best Picture because it showed the alluring power of high-quality
dialogue. It established standard tropes
for what became known as “romantic comedies” and is still witty and
entertaining today – due in large part to the talents of Frank Capra, Clark
Gable, and Claudette Colbert, of course, but especially to its screenplay.
Adapted
Screenplay
1953: Daniel Taradash, From Here to Eternity
1958: Nathan E. Douglas and Harold Jacob Smith, The Defiant Ones
1979: Robert Benton, Kramer vs. Kramer
1981: Ernest Thompson, On Golden Pond
AND THE WINNER IS:
1983: James L. Brooks, Terms of Endearment
Taradash’s screenplay for From Here to Eternity may not feel
state-of-the-art upon viewing, but if you consider that (A) it was adapted from
a 900-page stream-of-consciousness novel, (B) major portions of the story had
to be cut due to the Production Code Administration’s demands, and (C) it managed
to delegate enough equal screen time among its all-star cast to lead to five
acting nominations, then Tardash’s screenplay comes off as a considerable
accomplishment. The Defiant Ones was one of the few 1950s features to deal with
race relations with grit and realism instead of sensationalism, while Kramer vs. Kramer treated divorce with
subtlety over sentimentality. On Golden Pond remains one of the best
examples of a successful transition from stage to screen.
But my vote here goes to Terms of Endearment. Why? Because
with each passing year, the Academy’s praise of Terms of Endearment looks better and better. Not too long ago, it was popularly remembered
as a pedestrian and manipulative tearjerker-of-the-week, with overacting by
Shirley MacLaine and Debra Winger and some goofy antics by Jack Nicholson. But for whatever reason, audiences now tend
to look back on the film with greater favorability (a sentiment I’ve always had
about the film). Maybe this is the
result of James L. Brooks’ tremendous success after the film, or maybe it’s
because more people are realizing this kind of film is tough to make. The truth is, the screenplay brilliantly
manages to oscillate between high comedy and heartbreaking drama, and there
really is not a moment of it that rings false in any fashion. While other Oscar winners from three decades
ago look stale, Terms of Endearment is
still fresh and engaging, which is a reflection of the high quality of its
witty screenplay.
Supporting
Actress
1939: Hattie McDaniel in Gone With the Wind
1957: Miyoshi Umeki in Sayonara
1962: Patty Duke in The Miracle Worker
1971: Cloris Leachman in The Last Picture Show
AND THE WINNER IS:
1973: Tatum O’Neal in Paper Moon
McDaniel’s
win is one of the legendary moments of Oscar history – a significant
African-American performer receiving overdue recognition for what was a truly
great performance in a truly great film.
A similar sentiment can be applied to Umeki, who won in an era when
Asian characters and actors were extremely rare, and when they did appear, they
were often in the form of gross stereotypes.
Duke’s Oscar came when she was only 16 years old, making her (at the
time) the youngest winner ever in a competitive category, while Leachman won
for an unglamorous, desperate role that was novel for the 1970s.
But O’Neal’s win stands out here for
a few reasons. One is that she was 10
years old. Another is that she was
clearly the best part of Paper Moon,
a movie which holds up pretty well today, and even though her role was
technically the lead, the Academy recognized that without her charisma and
spark, the film wouldn’t have gone anywhere (and speaking of lead actress,
which performance has stood the test of time better: O’ Neal’s, or Glenda
Jackson in A Touch of Class, the lead
actress winner in 1973?) Of course,
similar praise can be bestowed on Patty Duke and Anna Paquin in 1993, but
because O’Neal carried so much of the movie on her own, her Oscar was particularly
well-deserved.
Supporting
Actor
1947: Edmund Gwenn in Miracle on 34th Street
1978: Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter
1988: Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda
2007: Javier Bardem, No Country for Old Men
AND THE WINNER IS:
2008: Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight
No
other actor can sufficiently play Santa Claus without someone invariably
comparing their performance to Gwenn (who really convincingly looked like Santa Claus) while recognizing a virtually unknown Christopher
Walken in 1978 looks pretty prescient in retrospect. Kline’s performance stands out as one of the funniest
in movie history (which made it all the more unlikely that the Academy would
actually award it), and Bardem was widely considered to be the most sinister villain
modern audiences had ever seen . . .
Until one year later, in 2008. Heath Ledger’s death gave a startling
mysticism to his performance as the Joker, a role which could have been treated
as a throwaway comic villain. But Ledger treated the role as a
tortured, sinister, psychopathic deviant.
Beyond simply applying unrecognizable makeup and using a startling
voice, Ledger’s role now stands as the lone villain (with the possible
exception of Hannibal Lector) by which all other villains – whether in
superhero movies or not – are judged.
And let’s be honest – does anyone really remember The Dark Knight for anything other than Ledger? And this was the film that was responsible
for expanding Best Picture nominees beyond five. With anyone other than Ledger, The Dark Knight is nothing more than a standard
summer movie sequel (which is what The
Dark Knight Rises ended up being, perhaps inevitably). Ledger elevates the role and the movie to
immortality.
Lead
Actress
1929: Mary Pickford in Coquette
1945: Joan Crawford in Mildred Pierce
1966: Elizabeth Taylor in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
1975: Louise Fletcher, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
AND THE WINNER IS:
1982: Meryl Streep, Sophie’s Choice
Coquette
wasn’t exactly Pickford’s most memorable role, but she was one of the few silent
stars that the Academy had the foresight to give a competitive Oscar to. Crawford and Taylor are exhibits A and B in illustrating
the practice of glamorous actresses risking their popular images by taking on
seedy, unpleasant roles – and winning well-deserved Oscars in the process. Fletcher’s iconic performance stands out as
possibly the greatest female villain in movie history, more than holding her
own in what is typically remembered as “a Jack Nicholson movie.”
But Streep gave the performance of a
lifetime in 1982 in one of the few Oscar categories that can’t really be
seriously debated anywhere. She’s been
nominated about 14 million times, but there’s no real question about what her
all-time greatest performance is. It’s
also one of the few mainstream performances that’s mentally draining to
watch. The drama in Sophie’s Choice is incredibly unpleasant, and even Streep has said
she can’t bear to watch parts of it.
Lead
Actor
1963: Sidney Poitier, Lilies of the Field
1970: George C. Scott, Patton
1991: Anthony Hopkins, The Silence of the Lambs
1995: Nicolas Cage, Leaving Las Vegas
AND THE WINNER IS:
1980: Robert De Niro, Raging Bull
Poitier’s win came at a critical
point of civil rights history that, as a result of giving him a well-deserved
Best Actor award, the Academy ultimately ended up on the right side of. Scott’s win was slightly different; everyone
knew it was a great performance, but alienated himself from the Academy by
criticizing them. But the Academy ate up
its pride and did the right thing, providing one of the more memorable moments
in the category’s history. Hopkins
probably logged less actual screen time than any other Best Actor recipient,
but anytime an actor plays the most memorable villain in movie history (as
voted on by the AFI),
he probably deserves some sort of Academy recognition. And it isn’t just Todd who thinks Cage’s
performance is one for the ages (and coming in a particularly stacked year too,
with Richard Dreyfuss, Sean Penn and Hopkins giving excellent roles).
But like Meryl Streep in Sophie’s Choice, there’s no one out
there who can contest whether or not De Niro deserved the Oscar in 1980. It’s simply not debatable. The performance demanded enormous
fluctuations in physical appearance (both health-wise and age-wise) as well as
psychological depth. As it stands today,
Raging Bull is remembered as a
technical marvel in terms of its cinematography and editing, but even those
elements are overshadowed by De Niro’s once-in-a-lifetime performance.
Director
1948: John Huston, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
1954: Elia Kazan, On the Waterfront
2006: Martin Scorsese, The Departed
2009: Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker
AND THE WINNER IS:
1961: Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise, West Side Story
Huston
made The Maltese Falcon in 1941 and
after World War II broke out, worked for the Army Signal Corps, making movies
about the wartime experiences of soldiers.
When he returned to Hollywood, he had no problems picking up where he
left off in genre pictures, elevating The
Treasure of the Sierra Madre to one of the best Warner films of the 1940s
(he also directed his father to an Oscar win – no easy task). Kazan also directed a film which holds up
very well for modern audiences, but like George C. Scott in 1970, awarding him
the Oscar in spite of his controversial political actions was ultimately the
right thing for the Academy to do.
Scorsese’s win in 2006 was a great moment, and it was nice that it
wasn’t just an “apology” Oscar (like Paul Newman in 1986), but an award given
for one of his truly best films. And
Bigelow’s win wasn’t just a great moment for women, but for independent
directors in general.
But Robbins and Wise stand out here
because they are the only directors to share an Oscar (besides the Coen
Brothers). This reflects the fact that
movies are about collaboration more than the single authorial and artistic
faculties of an individual. And could
there be a better example of this than West
Side Story – a film whose success is the perfected mixture of a brilliant story,
fantastic dance sequences, and memorable music?
According to Roger Ebert, Robbins’ elaborate choreography took three
months just to rehearse, and was frequently changed when the cast and crew went
on location to shoot. But you can see
all the effort when watching the film, which is rife with not only spectacular
entertainment, but unique and innovative interpretations of how dance is able
to reflect mood and emotion. Is it the
best example of directing ever to win the Oscar? Maybe not, but I still love what it stands
for.
Picture
1969: Midnight
Cowboy
1972: The
Godfather over Cabaret
1977: Annie
Hall over Star Wars
1984: Amadeus
1997: Titanic
AND THE WINNER IS:
1928: Wings
wins “Outstanding Picture” and Sunrise: A
Song of Two Humans winning “Unique and Artistic Production”
In 1969, Midnight Cowboy defied the conventions of “safe, wholesome”
entertainment by becoming the first (and only) X-rated film to win Best
Picture. In 1972, The Godfather defied the convention of the elaborate musical
winning Best Picture, and this decision looks pretty wise four decades
later. In 1977, Annie Hall beat Star Wars for
Best Picture – a major victory for all cinephiles who value intelligent writing
over superficial glitz. In 1984, Amadeus showed that Best Pictures could
be as sophisticated works of high culture, but with blistering irony and
satire. In 1997, Titanic embodied everything that movies offer us – riveting, spectacular
entertainment, star-making performances, and even the most iconic movie song of
the last several decades – and over the years, its backlash has become
gradually minimized.
But I can’t help but go back to the
first ever Oscars – yes, that 15-minute ceremony at the Roosevelt Hotel where
tickets were five dollars and no one thought much of it at the time. It remains the only Oscar ceremony to award
two movies with top honors: The war epic Wings
and the poetic love story Sunrise. Both are films that hold up well (all the
more impressive when considering that both are silent); Wings recently had a theatrical reissue as well as a Blu-Ray
release while many scholars consider Sunrise
the most important and innovative silent film of the 1920s. But what is most commendable about the 1928
Oscars was that voters had the foresight to acknowledge that film constitutes
as much a business as it does an art.
Some films are made to reflect the interests of mass audiences (such as Wings’ box office success at the heels
of Charles Lindbergh’s transatlantic flight) while others are made to appeal to
specific tastes of intelligent viewers (evidenced by Sunrise’s daring use of superimposition, deep focus and
expressionistic sets and shadows).
This
is what modern Oscars fail to grasp.
Comparing 12 Years a Slave to Gravity isn’t exactly like comparing
apples to oranges, but it comes close. Both
are important, potentially historically significant motion pictures. Depending on which film voters pick on
Sunday, the 86th Academy Awards will take on significantly different
meanings – either the Oscars still favor classical storytelling over special
effects, or voters are becoming more progressive in their acceptance of CGI as
a valid platform for cinema. Both
statements are reductive, and it’s a fallacy to extract a universal logic from
voter’s choices (which this article is admittedly guilty of). But both statements also have degrees of
validity to them. Does this mean we
should become more pluralistic and separate Best Picture into different
categories? Absolutely not. If we did that, we might never have polemic columns
like this 86 years from now. The Oscars do
make a particular statement when they announce their selection for Best Picture,
but that is only the first of two steps.
It is our job as audiences to seek out their selections to critically
assess whether they were right or not.
We are the part of history that holds the Academy Awards accountable.
Thoughts? Disagreements? Let me know below!
Thoughts? Disagreements? Let me know below!
