The Academy Awards are a strange, cultural anomaly. In almost all realms of art, it is understand that recognition - while welcome - correlates only loosely to quality and importance. Whether pretentious or not, most people differentiate between works of “serious” art and works of “popular” art. Twilight Breaking Dawn was not nominated for the Pulitzer or the Nobel, and as far as I know, there were no grievances filed.
And yet, few art forms are more mutually dependent upon cultural reception than film. The Academy may be mostly 60 year-old, white males; however, their opinion is only the last voice in a chain reaction of critical reception increasingly determined by the assessment of the modern laymen. Rottentomatoes.com has entire sections of critical response dedicated to non-mainstream publications and/or writers. And in the advent of the blog and the vast array of independent publishing options, the public perception of films has never been more influential - on both the box office and the Oscars.
Take Bridesmaids and Melissa McCarthy’s Oscar nod. Regardless of how you felt about that movie, a raw comedy receiving that kind of attention is unique. Other comedies have earned Oscar favor, gotten nods and even wins. Still, in 9 out of 10 cases, the comedies that receive attention are a different breed, straddling the fence between comedy and drama (the proverbial ‘dramedy’). And often, they’re only selected to bring a false sense of balance to the judging process. This year, the vibe was simply different. The Academy may consist of the same Hollywood dinosaurs that have served as the puppeteers for the last two decades of the Awards, but a turning is taking place. The audience determines more than a film’s financial success: they have a say - and rightfully so - on a film’s artistic caliber.
In other ways, the Oscars are sheer politics. The Help was a meaningful film, a good film even. It was not a great film. The Oscars wins it received were earned; many of the nominations, including Best Picture, were not. But the film captured a certain cultural moment, was received with a certain cultural deference. Yet again, the theatre patrons had a voice in the vote; but, in this case, it was a misleading voice.
So, yes, the Oscars can be a very manufactured affair. It, like the films it celebrates, is a performance. That’s what makes it different than the Pulitzer or the Nobel; it is more distilled and weakened than walking through the Tate and seeing staggering art silently working, speaking in its subtle way that asks for no hosts or red carpets. Needs no golden statue to define its intangible contribution to the world of art and culture. The Oscars are the reality television of the art world.
This is the Academy’s destiny: to continually struggle to speak for both the critic and the viewer, a distinction becoming blurred in contemporary cinema and criticism. The Academy seeks to garner attention for film. Above all, they seek to earn money. It’s a political, economic affair; it’s Hollywood on parade.
The Oscars don’t “mean” anything - the same way all awards and recognitions are meaningless to some extent. Art is measured in intangibles; it’s a game of centimeters. The Room may have actually changed someone’s life in a meaningful way, Twilight may have been a turning point in some young girl’s troubled life; it is not for any single person - or any single Academy - to determine the ultimate worth of a single work. But, a person or Academy can make a functional judgment, which amounts to little more than a drunkard’s wager, about the influence, caliber, and lasting value of some piece.
So, next time someone (maybe yourself) gets worked up about how the Oscars are a sell-out, remember that the Academy is fighting a losing battle. Making bold claims and handing out big awards earns viewers, but it’s not the Word of God. Who’s really qualified to be a judge? Think of it as a recommendation show - as a more jazzy version of “At the Movies” with Siskel and Ebert. When a book wins the Nobel Prize: sure, it’s probably very good. But don’t be surprised if you find a book written that year that you think is vastly better. So it is with movies.
I’ll continue to watch the Oscars, not because their voice represents the paragons of artistic judgment. No, I’ll continue watching because I love the movies, sometimes even the bad ones. Sometimes especially the bad ones. And there’s no use crying about it because even if you vehemently disagree, at least it helps you to find your own opinion and your own voice. Your own Best Picture is ultimately all that matters.
So be at peace with the Oscars' meaninglessness. It doesn’t mean art and life is meaningless. Just accept it at face value, and try not to get too mad…
Someday.
