Tuesday, February 18, 1997
COLUMN:
Nominations of late given to unique, independent productions
It’s that time of the year again. The anticipation has begun for
the second great American near-holiday which falls early in the
year (the Super Bowl being the first). I’m talking about the
Oscars, baby. The countdown to Hollywood’s most illustrious way of
celebrating itself began last Tuesday morning with the announcement
of the nominees. There was more than one surprise among the
nominees, and I’m not just talking about the fact that one of this
year’s double-nominees is a fella named Billy Bob.
When Bill Pullman poured all his resources into speaking the
line "Today is our independence day!" he might very well have been
talking about last Tuesday’s Oscar lineup. Of course, it’s films
like "Independence Day" that have forced the Academy to look
further than the big studios for nominations that don’t have
anything to do with special effects. This year’s list of nominees
finally clinches a sinking feeling I’ve had for years now, the
feeling that Hollywood doesn’t really make Oscar films anymore.
You don’t have to look back so far in history to see a different
Hollywood. I’m not talking about anything so wonderfully radical
and neurotic as pre-"Star Wars" ’70s Hollywood. Even the early ’80s
were a time when Oscar bait was proudly produced by the studios.
Think "Ordinary People," think "Kramer vs. Kramer," think "Terms of
Endearment" (without thinking about "The Evening Star"). It’s not
that these are necessarily my favorite films, but they are a far
cry from most of what’s out there now. The American film industry
used to make films for adults once upon a time. But ever since
"Batman" (the Second Coming of the Mega Blockbuster), the only tune
Hollywood dances to is the "Show Me The Money!" ditty that set
nominee Cuba Gooding Jr.’s hips a-moving in Best Picture nominee
"Jerry Maguire."
Look at last year’s Best Picture: "Braveheart." Can anyone else
out there besides me not get over the fact that this mediocre piece
of piffle (granted the bloodletting was quality, but this does not
make a Best Picture) actually walked off with the statue last year?
Does anything else speak so eloquently as to how far Hollywood has
fallen and how low the Academy must stoop to follow?
And I know it’s all bullocks anyway. Everyone worth a damn has
to wait until they’re on their death bed to get proper recognition
(quite literally in the case of Satyajit Ray’s lifetime achievement
Oscar a few years ago) and the whole principle of handing out
awards to people for whom getting the chance to earn a decent
living practicing their craft should be reward enough is rather
daft.
But the show must go on. And how refreshing it is that the
Academy was forced to pick some unique films, performances and
filmmakers to bestow nominations upon, like the selection of
"Fargo" and "Secrets and Lies" for Best Picture, the aforementioned
Billy Bob Thornton for Best Actor and screen newcomer Emily Watson
for Best Actress.
OK, none of these fabulous people or films are likely to win (I
predict a sweep of the much-ballyhooed, way-overrated "The English
Patient" for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Editing and Best
Adapted Screenplay), but that’s not the point. The mere fact that
so much independent fare and so little Hollywood product fills this
year’s nominee ranks is cause celebre … or just another indicator
that the line between Mainstream and Indie is a blurry one at best,
perhaps so faint as to not be seen anymore.
My relationship to the Oscars has always been a bit alienated.
As a child, even as a child who was crazy about the movies, the
Oscars were for grown-ups to get dressed up and pass out awards for
grown-up films that didn’t interest me one whit. Slowly throughout
adolescence, I started seeing more and more of those grown-up
films, some even before they were nominated. This all culminated
with that indicator of maturity that came around age 19 or 20, when
I’d seen all the Best Picture nominees before they were even
nominated. It was then that I knew my movie taste had matured a
bit, and that I had become one of those grown-ups so alien to me as
a child.
I suppose I’ve come full circle since then, because now I swear
every year that I won’t bother with watching any show that sees fit
to award such bubble-headed stuff as "Forrest Gump" with praise and
adulation. So either I’m getting smarter or the Oscars are getting
dumber  or both. At this rate, maybe the Academy Awards will
be the show my unborn children will one day look forward to every
year to see their favorite films recognized, and the only thing
that will puzzle them is why I didn’t watch the Oscars when I was
their age, and how the show could possibly have been considered for
grown-ups in the first place.
Wilson is a graduate film student who would like to believe
he’ll be doing something productive with his time when the Oscars
air but knows he’ll probably be watching it with friends and
shaking his head in disgust the whole time.