I can’t honestly say this was the worst Oscar telecast in history. I was only born in 1984, and only started watching the Oscars in 1991. But I can say with certainty that this was the worst Oscar telecast since then. Let’s break it down piece by piece.
The Hosts: You had to feel for Anne Hathaway, who was obviously trying her best to get through this third-grade Olympics presentation with a modicum of class. Her cutesy charm wore as the night went on, and no number of outfit switches could disguise her discomfort with her position onstage. Hathaway, more than anyone else in the building, knew she didn’t belong up there. Too bad she didn’t figure that out before accepting the host role.
As the evening dragged itself on like a wounded baby seal clubbed repeatedly with Keira Knightley’s jaw, James Franco became more and more fascinating. Was he high? Was he drunk? Was this another piece of odd performance art by an elitist “artiste” who bears a stronger resemblance to Ashton Kutcher than to a real actor?
Leaning back on his heels, his beady eyes darting side to side with creepy glee, Franco bore a striking resemblance to Muammar Qaddafi. To be fair, he wasn’t given decent material to work with, but he butchered the material he did have to work with. Each time the camera trained on him, his oddly self-satisfied smirk plastered across his mug, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. Eventually he had to break character, didn’t he?
Or was he the character? Is Franco that colorless, that arrogant, that weird? The mystery continues.
The Awards: No shocks here. But let me make a reasonable suggestion: let those who specialize in a particular area of the industry vote on that category in the Oscars. Nowhere was the ignorance of the Hollywood crowd more evident than in the music categories. There were three tremendous scores this year: How to Train Your Dragon, Inception, and The King’s Speech. Perhaps the best of them was Dragon. The worst – and this wasn’t even close – was The Social Network. Naturally, The Social Network won. Asinine doesn’t begin to describe this win. Travesty comes closer. As bad as Sofia Coppola in Godfather III is almost there.
The same held true in the Best Song category. None of the nominees were anything spectacular – the prettiest song was clearly “I See The Light” from Tangled (also the most classily performed). But for Randy Newman to win nomination after nomination for the same song year after year is inane. Nobody understands a word he sings – Newman is to singing as Jeff Bridges was to talking in True Grit — and his plodding 4/4 compositions are more Barney than Irving Berlin.
Then there’s the ongoing ridiculousness of the technical awards being decided by people who have no idea what cinematography is, let alone what good cinematography is. Last night, they got it right with Inception. But film editing goes to The Social Network? Remember a few years back when Return of the King wasn’t even nominated for best cinematography?
Instead of this hodgepodge of Hollywood insiders deciding what constitutes good film editing, let’s ask film editors. Let’s ask composers and musicians which is the best score. Why would anyone care what Cameron Diaz thinks of musical composition?
The Structure: What the hell was going on here?
Disjointed. Confusing. Bizarre. It was the South Park theory of Family Guy at work.
The manatees picked Gone With The Wind, followed by Tom Hanks, followed by Best Cinematography. Huh?
The best moment of the evening lasted approximately 3 minutes, when the orchestra began playing a medley of greatest movie hits. It made me nostalgic for a time when great scores were appreciated (must … kill … Trent … Reznor …) and a time when there was still glamour to the Academy Awards.
The most suspenseful moment of the evening came when Hathaway and Franco introduced Jeff Bridges. Would Franco and Bridges be able to pretend they had never before met in their pot dealer’s basement? Unfortunately, the camera cut away from Franco too soon for us to learn the truth.
The worst moment of the evening was the interminable announcement of the nominees for Best Actor and Best Actress. This new tradition is the worst of Hollywood. The rest of the world thinks Tinseltown is self-aggrandizing, obnoxious, and self-centered. Having one actor talk about how incredible other actors are justifies those beliefs. Just mention the actors nominated and move on – nobody cares what Sandra Bullock thinks of Jesse Eisenberg’s acting, or what Jeff Bridges thinks of Michelle Williams (if he thinks anything).
Obama: So President Obama showed up at the Oscars to announce that his favorite movie song was “As Time Goes By” from Casablanca, which is about as believable as him saying he likes capitalism. By showing up during this broadcast, Obama basically labeled himself a political version of the Salahis – or of Anthony Michael Hall from every 1980s movie where he shows up to bug the cool kids.
Here was my abbreviated reaction (yes, I did shout this out loud):
“Get the hell off my TV. Get the hell off my TV. Get the hell of my TV. You have nothing to do with the Oscars. Nothing to do with any of the nominated movies. Why can’t you leave me the hell alone?! Final Four. Super Bowl. World Series. Little Miss Nevada Contest. It doesn’t seem to matter. I know your parents didn’t love you as a child, and now you need unending streams of attention, but you have nothing to do with this event, and you’re invading my living room … again. So get the hell off my TV!!!”
By the way, President Bush never appeared on the Oscars. Couldn’t be that Hollywood adores Obama and hates Bush, could it?
Conclusion: The problem with the Oscars lately is that they’re boring. It’s that simple. Partially, that’s because of the overexposure of Hollywood stars and starlets – years ago, people only glimpsed actors out of character during the telecast. Partially, it’s because the hosts have been awful; partially because in past years (not this one, thankfully) the movies have been mediocre; partially because Hollywood takes itself so seriously (the backlash against Ricky Gervais, anyone?).
In large part, at least, it’s because Hollywood doesn’t get the rest of America. Not everyone in TV land likes lesbian jokes, James Franco in a ball gown, James Franco making sexual jokes about movie titles, or obnoxious mentions of unions. Hollywood entertainment and celebrations of it should be classic Americana, not insular ceremonies designed to alienate the vast unwashed. Until Hollywood gets that – and gets some decent producers to put these things together – the Oscars are going to remain a snooze punctuated by occasional moments of entertainment, rather than vice versa.