And Now for Something Completely Not Different

 I confess to having a problem with the #OscarsSoWhite movement.  In years past, when it comes to the Academy Awards, the Motion Picture Academy has certainly snubbed any number of worthy performers and other theatrical artists, and, despite the growing diversity of the American population, the most visible Oscar categories (e.g., acting, directing, "Best Picture") have often displayed a conspicuous uniformity in terms of race and ethnicity (i.e., a whole bunch of white folks).  The snubs are often inexplicable, such as Jennifer Lopez being overlooked for her performance in "Hustlers" despite ubiquitous praise and early expectations that she would win the award, never mind being nominated.  And it's this very inexplicability that leaves the Academy open to charges of unconscious (or, indeed, conscious) racism.

Still, whenever the #OscarsSoWhite hashtag would start trending, I would always wonder.  First, while people could certainly take issue with the lack of Black or Brown faces among the nominees, the nominees themselves were generally not objectionable.  That is, one couldn't necessarily point to any of the (white) actors who were nominated and say, "Well, SHE certainly doesn't deserve a nomination. . .  He didn't really do a good job."  With a limited number of nominations (generally five per category), you will always have some deserving people left out.  Second, the fact that people expressed outrage when all the nominees were white could cause a certain backlash if and when more people of color were ultimately nominated: Are they being nominated because of the excellence of their work or is there some Hollywood quota system being employed?

The issue, of course, is not a lack of talent among communities of color, but a lack of opportunities.  And ultimately, one of the good things to come out of #OscarsSoWhite was an attempt to diversify the Academy, to provide more support for films that portray the experiences of communities of color and to broaden the pool of those honored beyond the usual suspects.  And one could argue that last night's Academy Awards represented a sort of triumph for this movement.  Of the 20 acting nominations, nine went to non-white actors.  Of the eight films nominated for Best Picture, only two featured white male protagonists (three if you count the mostly-white ensemble cast of "Trial of the Chicago Seven").  But even here, we see some "snubbing": Eight films were nominated for Best Picture, but up to ten films could have been.  And among the non-nominated pictures were such critically acclaimed and Black-centered movies as "One Night in Miami" (three other nominations), "Da 5 Bloods" (a Spike Lee Joint), and "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom"--probably the most inexplicable oversight, given its prominence on Netflix, its provenance as a somewhat well-known play, and its two lead-acting nominations.  Including any two of these movies wouldn't have entailed bumping any other nominee (all of which seem more or less deserving), yet they were left out.  Why?  (Yes, I'm sure there are arcane rules around voting and nominations and yadda yadda yadda. . . But again, this is as much about perception as anything else.  The perception is problematic.)

And then, of course, despite the diversity of the nominees, the two big acting awards went, surprisingly, to two old white Hollywood veterans--Frances McDormand and Anthony Hopkins--both of whom had won Oscars already (twice in McDormand's case), to boot.

This is a disappointment.

I feel I should stipulate that both Frances McDormand and Anthony Hopkins are brilliant actors--giants in their field.  I haven't seen either "Nomadland" or "The Father," but I have absolutely no doubt that both actors give flawless performances.  This is not about that.  Because let's be clear: The Oscars are not an acting competition.  The awards are not given on the basis of some judgment that Anthony Hopkins gave a better performance in "The Father" than, say, Riz Ahmed did in "Sound of Metal."  How would one make that judgment, exactly?  They performed different roles that called for different skills and preparation.  The only real way that the Oscars could be an acting competition would be if each nominated actor were given, say, a monologue to perform--the same monologue--and then judged on the execution. There would still be a certain level of subjectivity involved, but at least then you'd be comparing apples to apples, so to speak--performing apples to performing apples.

(DIGRESSION: I think we have a premise for next year's ceremony! Mr. Soderbergh, call me! END OF DIGRESSION)

No, to the extent that the Oscars are a competition, they are a marketing competition, the winners a reflection of which studio did the best job of promoting their product.  But quite often, the Oscars are also an opportunity for Hollywood to make a statement.  And in this year Black Lives Matter and white nationalists parading proudly through American streets, the voters of the Motion Picture Academy could have--should have--made a clear statement about the value of diversity in the world of film. A clear statement that the movies can look like the best vision of a multicultural America. Instead, the statement that Hollywood made by bestowing the highest honors on representatives of the status quo is that the Academy is still largely stuck in the past.

*****

I said "surprisingly" about the wins by McDormand and, especially, Hopkins.  The Award ceremony producers clearly expected something different, as evidenced by the otherwise inexplicable decision to announce "Best Picture" before "Best Actress" and "Best Actor."  Presumably, Steven Soderbergh (along with any number of other people) thought Chadwick Boseman would receive a posthumous Oscar.  The announcement of his win would certainly have been a highly emotional moment--not a dry eye in the house--a moment which would have rendered the award for Best Picture anticlimactic, no matter which film won.  But from a television-production perspective, the Oscars got the absolute worst result.  Boseman would have been perfect.  Ahmed or Yeun would have at least been seen as young, exciting avatars of Hollywood's next generation.  Gary Oldman would have at least been there to make a speech!  Instead, the award went to a highly respected previous winner, who wasn't even at the ceremony in any of its 92 locations; word is, he had to be woken up to be told he had won. 

I suppose the one positive to take away from all this is that, in case you were wondering, even the producers of the show do not, in fact, know the winners ahead of time.  Three cheers for integrity?

*****

Can we please, please, PLEEEEEASSE never again do extended introductions of each nominee.  Seriously, I don't need to hear biographical details about each of these people or hear Laura Dern emote over everyone's "bravery" or what have you.  If I want biographical details, well, that's why God gave us Wikipedia.  That's how I know that Carey Mulligan is a former Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. . . 

. . . OK, maybe I shouldn't rely on Wikipedia, but still! Let's keep the show moving people!  Give us a clip from the movie and get on with it!