..Gary Dretzka
..Noah Forrest
..Leonard Klady
..R.J. Matson
..David Poland
..Douglas Pratt
..Ray Pride
..Michael Wilmington

Hooray, Sorta, for Oscarwood

By Leonard Klady

What we love most about the Oscars are those moments, those oh so rare moments, when art and popularity align perfectly. And while they can only ameliorate the inevitable dross inherent in more than three hours of self-congratulation, they do happen and did happen Sunday. It was Adrian Brody’s moment and he accepted it with grace, flourish and just a tinge of embarrassment.

These tiny pieces of time do not occur often; the last I can remember happened more than a decade ago when Daniel Day-Lewis took home the statuette for My Left Foot. The audience exploded, rose to its feet, including the other nominees who truly seemed to be elated by the deservedness of the honor. Well, lightning struck twice.

Brody could do and did no wrong. He smooched Halle Berry and properly dressed down the orchestra who indeed heard and put down their instruments. He then went on to give the most effective plea for peace, invoking the themes of The Pianist to underscore his points.

There were a couple of other true highlights, but, by and large, Oscar 2003 did not live up to this year’s hype.

The promise of a more somber, appropriate to the moment, event was largely left in the dust of host Steve Martin’s opening monologue. Martin correctly identified the hypocrisy when he surveyed the set and drolly noted the absence of “glitz.” However, his jibes and kidding tended to veer toward and arcane and oblique. He didn’t connect.

If a war was playing somewhere in the background, it was effectively kept under wraps. ABC News chimed in twice … but only during commercial breaks. The show goes on even when the Shah does not.

The Academy board asked attendees to dress down and encouraged winners to speak their mind. It was a night of business suits and black dresses with rare exception (Renee Zelwegger was the lady in red). The majority of presenters and winners chose their words in the most politically palatable manner. The exception was the in your face Michael Moore who brought his fellow nominees on stage but was met with jeers when he assailed the presidency. So there are limits to tolerance, Hollywood style.

But perhaps the evening’s greatest irony was too subtle. The ruthlessly politically correct Jack Valenti (reduced to presenting the documentary short category) seemed flustered and actually said “and the winner is …”

The Academy forgave Roman Polanski but, though it cited The Pianist for direction, screenplay and Brody’s performance, denied it best picture status. While it’s rare for a film to win top honors without garnering at least one of the directing or screenplay awards, it has occurred as recently as two years ago with Gladiator and on two earlier occasions in the award’s history.

Polanski was a surprise as was Pedro Almodovar’s prize for the original script of Talk to Her, the first foreign-language script honored for writing since A Man and a Woman in 1966. The rest was largely predictable. As the broadcast reached its mid point, it looked as if the ferocious campaign style of Miramax had prevailed and the statuette was being dusted off for Scorsese, Day-Lewis and Zelwegger. It was not to be and one has to conclude many rebelled against brute force.

The show was too long and the idea of a tableau featuring past acting winners was better in concept than execution. The same could be said of the now per force In Memoriam section. Any suggestions for a more organic method of presenting either would be most welcome.

Finally, one has to smile just thinking of Peter O’Toole’s presence to collect a career achievement Oscar. It was impossible to imagine he would misstep. O’Toole is an acting god and befitting that status he was gracious, witty and brief. The embodiment of style and class, the Oscars would be well advised to pursue him to produce its future outings.

- by Leonard Klady