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Why Do They Call It The Oscars? by Doniphan Blair
Ellen Degeneres, this years court jester, did a pretty good job. photo: courtesy the Academy
MODESTY IS THE TRIBUTE MEGLO-
mania pays to film's collaborative nature. Or is it heroics is the tribute money pays to art? At any rate, the 86th Oscars suffered no shortage of panegyrics, encomiums and over-the-top thanks.
But that is the Academy style, established over the fifty years since it went televised—a magical meeting of two media—and crowned our new royalty in full site of the world.
Although it's de riguer for the top of the celebrity pyramid to try to connect to the bottom, the dreamers as well as the audience, there's nothing like a little "bringing low of titans" to warm everyone's heart.
John Travolta, a star whose career has suffered ups and downs before, took the drubbing for the team when he flubbed the name of the person whom he was presenting, saying "Adele Dazeem" instead of Idina Menzel.
While the Schadenfreude fanatics piled on, Menzel herself, winner of the Best Original Song for "Let It Go" in the film "Frozen", hugged and forgave Travolta backstage. She is now using the mishap as a humorous identity booster.
Indeed, this year was supposed to highlight the unacknowledged, so much so, it was unofficially billed as "The Year of the Black."
Although host Ellen DeGeneris was generally satisfactory as the soothing clown, humanizing the proceedings by buying pizza for the crowd (and getting them to actually pay for it) and organizing a celebrity selfie, her strongest crack remained, "Either '12 Years a Slave' wins or you are all racists."
Jennifer Lawrence goes down on the runway, probably due to her long elegant gown. photo: courtesy the Academy
Sadly, there was no mention of CineSource's hometown fave, "Fruitvale Station" by the Oakland-born but LA-educated Ryan Coogler, its writer/director (produced with the help of the talented Forrest Whittaker). An omission a lot of critics noted, it was barely ameliorate by Michael B. Jordan, the film's star, presenting for Technical Achievement, alongside the lovely and white Kristen Bell (race mixing being another theme of this Oscars).
"Having nominated nine films for best picture," wrote Ann Hornady in The Washington Post, "The Academy could have come up with a 10th in such a strong year. What a perfect way to honor 'Fruitvale Station'," even if it had no hope of winning.
Indeed, there was almost no mention of Bay Area talent, save for the fabulous David Shirk, of ILM and Lucasfilm renown, whose fantastic visual effects were central to the success of "Gravity" and earned him one of the coveted statuettes.
An ever-so-slight, tip-of-the-hat went to Northern California's Netflix, which is becoming one of the world's largest content providers. Right before the official Oscars began, Kevin Spacey, producer and star of its "House of Cards" was the last person on camera. He also presented an award, in character as the slimy Southern politician, Francis Underwood—hey, is this the Oscars or the Emmys?
"Saving Mr. Banks", starring the also Oakland-born Tom Hanks, one of the most self-effacing stars in Hollywood, was also passed over, although his co-star, Barkhad Abdi, the Wisconsin-Somalian, was nominated for a supporting Oscar.
Apparently broke, and in need of another well-written "terrorist" role—"Look at me, I am the captain now," Abdi did get an almost-front row seat and a few nods from Degeneres as she wandered the aisles in her cozy if not hysterically funny manner.
Miscegenenation among presenters was the order of the day, with two of my favorite actors, Naomi Watts and Samuel L. Jackson, making a striking couple, albeit very briefly—the almost four hour show was held to a tight clock—presenting for Best Costume Design and Makeup.
Despite the independent-focused Spirit Awards, held a week before the Oscars for the last few decades, the Academy should consider an indie category: the under one million dollar film. This is a no-brainer, given its obvious youth appeal and that the majority of the Academy's 6,000 voting members (essentially anyone who works in the industry) are over 60 as well as white.
The selfie seen 'round the world (lf-rt) Jennifer Lawrence, Meryl Streep, Ellen Degenes, Bradley Cooper, brother of Lupita Nyong'o (bck row) Kevin Spacey, Brad Pitt, Lupita Nyong'o. photo: courtesy E. Degeneres
Having an Indie Oscar will affirm to future Robert Rodriguezes that they can make commercial features for under $20,000—in his case, although for everyone else one million. Actually, $1,000,000 translates to the common indie threshhold of $200,000 in cash and $800,000 in inkind services.
It seemed like the Academy had given up on the younger demographics after the fiasco of the overly cute James Franco, as well as Anne Hathaway, double presenting in 2011. Despite being quite artistic offscreen, they evidently fearied offense more than asking forgiveness.
The latter was left to last year's presenter Seth McFarland, famous for his anything goes humor, who rolled a few tokes over the line with his offcolor humor including some anti-Semitism. I didn't find it so offense while, of course, bad taste is McFarland's cri-de-coeur (didn't the Academy's casting director review any "Family Guy" shows?).
Still, people of color certainly did win big, especially considering the paucity of previous awards. Alfonso Cuarón was the first Latino to win best director, while his film swept the Awards in general, and as Degeneres predicted, "12 Years a Slave" garnered Best Picture. Its director, Steve McQueen, is the first director of a Best Picture winner who is black, if not African American (he's British born in London of Grenadian descent).
Pink performed the purest art in the show, a striking rendition of 'Over the Rainbow'. photo: courtesy the Academy
One of McQueen's fabulous stars, Lupita Nyong'o, an African-African, who took the Oscar for best supporting actress, was very visionary in her acceptance speech, recommending youth to dream. It's folks like Nyong'o who elevate the Oscars, heralding the majestic, the heroic and romantic. The over-sixty and white back-office boys—although they are now girls on occasion—are well-aware of the need to refresh the brand.
Meanwhile, we mostly had to depend on bringing the mighty low, like laughing at Jenifer Lawrence, who stumbled on the red carpet and was teased for it by Degeneres, or Matthew McCanahay who went on a long-self ramble but said nothing about AIDS, evidently uninspired by his own character in the "Dallas Buyer's Club".
One of the aesthetic surprises was that "Her" took a Best Screenplay. "To me, 'Her', is a single idea and then you spin it out from there " noted veteran film critic Mick LaSalle during an Oscar-watching radio show, adding that he preferred the more complex machinations of "American Hustle", written by Eric Warren Singer and its director David O. Russell.
I am afraid the Academy's members failed to notice those writers' profound addition to modern dramaturge: "American Hustle" featured long, emotional moments between couples which the writers used as plot pivot points rather then just window dressing.
While the "House of Cards" television show, to site one spectacular example, is composed of multiple story lines, which have to be advanced through exposition, leaving one character, Kevin Spacey's Satan, to open up and engage the audience, Lawrence and her co-stars Christian Bale and Bradley Cooper probe, push and pull at each other, advancing the plot through what can be called Matriarchal Movie Making.
Best Foreign film went to "The Great Beauty", by Paolo Sorrentino from Italy, famous for its matriarchal influences, although "Blue is the Warmest Color", by the French Tunisian Abdellatif Kechiche, would have been a hotter, more youthful choice, despite the inevitable critique for excessive patriarchy by Queer Theorists.
All in all, the 2014 was pleasantly appealing and modestly progressive, Hollywood doing its best to look humble and put on a good show in a year that broke box office records. Indeed, 2013 exceeded 2012, also a banner year, by a full ONE percent!
Perhaps the most marked achievement of the coveted art-industry marriage was by the singer Pink in her soaring and sophisticate rendition of the theme from the ultimate Hollywood offering, "Wizard of Oz".
So, why DO they call it the Oscars?
One story claims two-time winner Bette Davis named it after an ex-husband, Harmon Oscar Nelson, while another has it that Margaret Herrick, a librarian at the Academy, claimed it was the spitting image of her Uncle Oscar.
Either way, even the little statue's nickname is part of the effort to humanize Hollywood.
Doniphan Blair is a writer, film magazine publisher, designer and filmmaker, and can be reached .Posted on Mar 14, 2014 - 04:31 PM