The
Trouble With Oscar
When Louis B. Mayer
spearheaded efforts to create an organization representing the finer aspects
of the American film industry eight decades ago his intentions weren't
wholly altruistic. The nabobs of Hollywood had been rocked by drug and
sex scandals and the press had been unsparing in painting a picture of
a modern Gomorrah that was quickly embraced by the public.
In an appropriate
biblical response, Mayer and the others gambled that if they could present
10 or more studio movies that embodied quality, artistry and moral values
the town would be spared. In its first year the Academy of Motion Picture
Arts and Sciences had such timeless classics as Sunrise, Wings, The
Crowd, The Circus, The Last Command and The Jazz Singer in
competition and the other crowds were placated.
The announcement,
way too early in the morning, of the Academy Award slate of nominees
for the year 2004 provides a strong impression that if the same devil's
bargain were struck today, Hollywood would be consumed in a fireball.
There's no argument
and very little conspicuous omission in regard to the quality of the
selections. However, in general, their relationship to the mainstream
American film industry is at best tangential. The sort of social dramas
and epic stories that used to be a staple of the major companies have
been ceded to others while Hollywood has cornered the market for popular
and often mindless fare whether it be inane comedies, sloppily constructed
thrillers or comic strip superheroes. And as they used to say at Miracle
Pictures: If it's a good film, it's a Miracle.
This year's best
pictures include The Aviator, a Howard Hughes biography
that was initially developed at a studio, put into turnaround and finally
realized when London-based Initial Entertainment put up the majority
of the budget. Warner Bros. then agreed to pick up domestic rights but
then decided it had too many prestige films to handle at the close of
the year and struck a deal with Miramax to handle distribution chores.
Warner Bros. executives
likely expected to reap a treasure chest of Oscar nominations for The
Phantom of the Opera, The Polar Express and Alexander. The
last title didn't turn out quite as expected and the other two only
found favor in technical categories. All three also happened to be financial
co-ventures. The film folk in Burbank are taking credit for Million
Dollar Baby that was co-ventured with Lakeshore, an independent
production company. The studio's involvement, as described by Eastwood
partisans, seemed to be largely propelled by embarrassment. There was
no demonstrable interest in the project at Warners, though Eastwood
has enriched the company's bottom line by billions for 30 years and
heaped them with glory and gelt as recently as last year with Mystic
River. The prior stewardship of Bob Daley and Terry Semel
would likely have weighed the picture's modest price tag against
a fruitful relationship and not balked at the deal, but the current
co-chairmen only agreed to participate when Lakeshore stepped up, knowing
Paramount (where Lakeshore resides) would otherwise pick up the slack.
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Similarly, Finding
Neverland was propelled by overseas investment and Ray at
first had to be bankrolled by another American independent. It was only
after everything was in place that Universal came aboard, albeit in
a very significant fashion worldwide. So, the only nominee wholly financed
with studio money is Sideways and ,it was greenlit through the
auspices of Fox's specialized division Searchlight.
In what's considered
the Oscar's major categories - acting, directing, writing and picture
- the only film completely underwritten by a primary studio label is
Closer. There's an argument for inclusion for Collateral
- co-ventured by Paramount and major but not a studio DreamWorks - and
lots of representation from films acquired and sometimes even bankrolled
by the sundry classics divisions of the majors. In the history of the
event this is an all-time low and if not a scandal, a shameful situation.
A great deal has
been written (by myself included) about various recent plights confronted
by AMPAS. Faltering ratings for the telecast prompted moving the event
from Monday to Sunday night. While the shift was an enormous boost in
smoothing physical headaches like traffic that have plagued it historically,
it did not result in more than a flutter in viewship.
So, if that wasn't
the problem, perhaps it was the timing. Since May 29, 1929 when the
first Academy Awards were doled out, a lot of imitators and wannabees
have come onto the scene and virtually every last one hands out honors
in advance of the Oscars. The organization's board finally came to the
conclusion that the mother of all film prizes now appeared to be an
anti-climax and just last year pushed up its broadcast by a month.
The effect of the
move, again, appears to have had little effect on the television audience.
The awards continue to be familiar and all those others, from Globes
to People's Choice, have simply been crowded into an abbreviated time
frame.
I'm not going to
diminish the déjà vu quality that hangs over the Oscars.
Frankly, I don't know how you can get around it short of going back
to a calendar that overlaps years (July 1 through June 30 for instance).
There's no obvious method of stepping up the nomination and voting process
and accommodating a voting membership edging up to 6,000.
However, I believe
there are far greater problems the Academy must confront if its hopes
to remain relevant and vital. The relative absence of mainstream Hollywood
movies is by far the single most crippling aspect in respect to the
organization's future. Virtually every other problem it faces trickles
down from this circumstance.
The vast majority
of AMPAS members work for or with the majors. The Academy Awards are
supposed to be a celebration of their efforts, but certainly since 1996
there's been little for which they might have a personal rooting interest.
Back in 1996 the sole studio picture vying for top prize was Jerry
Maguire and, since then, there have only been three years where
films by the majors were dominant in the best picture category.
To paraphrase Apollo
13: Hollywood, we have a problem.
There's an obvious
disconnect when the ultimate honor that the American film industry can
bestow is annually awarded to movies initiated outside a studio infrastructure
- even if they involve mainstream actors, directors and writers. One
has to wonder what sort of careers the likes of John Ford, Billy
Wilder, William Wyler, Fred Zinnemann, George Stevens and dozens
of other greats from bygone eras would have had in the current creative
environment. The answer is too stomach wrenching to dwell upon.
If there's no possibility
of interesting the studios to make the occasional film of ambition,
then perhaps the Oscars should really narrow its focus to the popular
movies that dominate the major's release schedule. If the awards were
determined by box office, the upcoming ceremonies would shine the spotlight
on Shrek 2, Spider-Man 2, Harry Potter & the Prisoner of Azkaban,
The Incredibles and The Day After Tomorrow. And maybe that's
not the worst of solutions.
There's a mighty
big country that lies between Los Angeles and New York City and most
of its residents would be hard pressed to identify Imelda Staunton
and don't really know Clive Owen, Virginia Madsen or Don
Cheadle by name. But they do know all the blockbusters, and it might
be of some interest for them to tune in a show that honors the achievements
of films that slavishly court their money.
It goes hand in
glove that the truly beloved stars for the average movie goer - given
current circumstances - have little reason to attend the Oscars for
other than purposes of window dressing. That would change radically
if the best actor nominees were to include Matt Damon (The
Bourne Supremacy), Nicolas Cage (National Treasure),
Will Smith (I, Robot), Brad Pitt (Troy)
and Adam Sandler (50 First Dates). Naysayers are apt to
say that the People's Choice and MTV awards already serve that function,
but there are dozens of other precursors (or harbingers) to the Academy
Awards that emulate the event in its present manifestation so why shouldn't
AMPAS opt to court the lowest common denominator much in the manner
that's been evolved by the studios.
The proposition
shouldn't be considered simply as cavalier or cynical. There's plenty
of room to trumpet the true artistic achievements of American cinema
of every stripe and additionally towering work regardless of its origin.
That's clearly the bailiwick of groups that include the Los Angeles
and New York Film critics.
It would also be
a tremendous opportunity for the Independent Spirit Awards that presently
stand in the dark shadow of the Academy in great part because there's
so much overlap between its nominees and those selected by Oscar voters.
In the new configuration duplication wouldn't be a problem
Another group that
could possible benefit is the American Film Institute that has heretofore
failed at establishing much of a profile or a television adjunct for
its annual list of the best American movies. Just like Louis B. Mayer,
it strives to find 10 good U.S. films that justify the preponderance
of mediocrity. The AFI also has a degree of credibility as a result
of operating a school, co-coordinating restoration of classic films,
running a variety of film series and handing out an award for career
achievement on an annual basis. Its mandate, at least superficially,
would appear closer to the intent of the original Academy of Motion
Picture Arts and Sciences and befitting how the industry has changed.
-
by Leonard Klady