HOLLYWOOD'S BIG "SO WHAT"

I remember the Academy Awards, growing up.

Oscar Night used to be a big deal. Yes, it was long, and some of the speeches never ended (some things are eternal). But it was kind of exciting to see who would win, who would lose, and who would make an ass of themselves.

Who could forget David Niven and the streaker? Marlon Brando and Sasheen Littlefeather? Sally Field and the “You Really Like Me” speech?

The Oscars were unpredictable, that was part of their charm. Put hundreds of pampered, over-medicated egomaniacs in one theatre on live TV, and see what happens! It was the reality TV aspect of it all, long before reality TV was a thing, that was the most appealing aspect for me.

Then, as now, the Oscars were elitist. Usually the sort of films I liked were never even nominated. But, towards the end of the 20th Century, there was a brief awakening to the need to be more relevant, and crowd pleasers like Titanic and Gladiator started getting the nod. Even feel-good films like The Full Monty and Little Miss Sunshine at least got nominations.

And if you didn’t agree with the choices, there was at least lots of entertainment on hand. There was an orchestra. There was the exquisite pain of watching people with no sense of humour try to drily deliver comedic introductions. There was Billy Crystal, for God’s sakes, likely the best host ever.

Now, in the waning months of a pandemic, comes the 93rd Annual Academy Awards. Live from a…train station?

Granted, social distancing, COVID, blah blah blah. No orchestra, hardly any clips, and certainly no Billy Crystal. But hey, the long political speeches are still there!

No, I did not watch the 93rd Oscar Night. I have better things to do with a Sunday evening than be lectured about my white privilege and carbon footprint by people who own their own islands and are protected by private armies. I’m going on the reportage here. Hollywood and I parted ways a long ago.

The Awards were directed by an accomplished director, though, Steven Soderbergh, some of whose work I’ve quite enjoyed. Therefore, I was left wondering why on earth he’d leave the ending in the hands of Mister Excitement, Joaquin Phoenix. That was a puzzler.

What was not puzzling was that Oscar Night was largely given over to a series of anti-police rants delivered by celebrities encircled by a ring of police officers put there to protect them. Self-awareness is not a notable feature of our celebrity class, then or now. Hollywood showed about as much appreciation for irony here as the Representative for South-Central LA, who’s done so much for her district (cough), Maxine Waters. Mad Max flew into Minneapolis last weekend with a pre-arranged police escort, in order to incite a riot.

I suspect the attendees at Union Station would’ve been happy to help start a riot right then and there, if they could be assured that someone could get that tear gas smell out of their Dolce and Gabbana.

It’s this stuff, folks, not COVID or long shows, that drives down the viewership. People at home, as host Regina King acknowledged right off the bat before she started preaching, don’t like to be preached to. At least Tyler Perry managed to inject a little perspective, suggesting that it might not be a really great idea to hate anybody.

As JFK once said, there’s always some sonofabitch who doesn’t get the word.

I write from the perspective of the people who used to watch these shows, a long time ago, but have given up on them, because they are clearly no longer for me. It’s not because they’re too long (always have been), or because celebrities talk too much (always did). No, it’s because the Oscars honour films I wouldn’t watch on Netflix, let alone go to a cinema for. The Oscars champion, to the point of Ludovico Treatment insistence, ideologies I do not share.

And they’re just damned boring now. Never again will anyone say anything controversial, because they’re all hammered into line by cancel culture. Ricky Gervais is not invited. The security (thanks, LAPD) is too tight for any streakers to alarm middle-aged English presenters. And nobody’s seen any of the fucking movies.

A recent poll suggested that a majority of the public had not even heard of, let alone seen, almost all of the Best Picture nominees. What does that say about the Oscars’ relevance, or lack thereof?

Hollywood today is like a soft-serve culture dispenser with two settings: Dreary Marxist homilies to the social issue of the month; and regurgitated Marvel/DC/Lucasfilm pap featuring heroes who can do no wrong (unlike real heroes; see “police officers”). A “Swirl” setting has recently been introduced, so now superhero movies can be sufficiently “woke.” Whew. Glad they caught that.

It doesn’t matter that movies are now easier to see in first run than ever before. Just get a subscription from home! But people still don’t want this horseshit, in increasingly large numbers. The culture and the people are diverging.

Something very similar happened in the late 1960s. Unsatisfied with the studio system, a generation of young filmmakers broke off and started making movies that spoke to less-conventional values. Eventually, their films became the gold standard.

These were people with names like Schlesinger, Cimino, Coppola, Lucas, Scorsese, and Spielberg.

Now, the Hollywood they built lies in ruins. I recently read an interview with a Disney executive who was proudly crowing about how many “wonderful” scripts she’d killed because they didn’t have enough “diversity.”

Like energy, talent does not simply disappear from the universe. It finds another way to bubble to the surface. Calcified empires like Disney will die much-deserved deaths, and something more relevant will take their place. Probably something shooting those scripts Disney didn’t want.

People need, and want, a culture that speaks to them. All of them.

Right now, there is a demand, with precious little supply. But in capitalism, demand rarely goes unfulfilled. If the sad crowd at Union Station can’t handle it, someone else will.

I might just watch the Oscars then, if either of us are still around.