The Oscars remain the one night of star-studded palaver that exemplifies Hollywood’s soaring heights of crassness, self-congratulation, and plain incoherence. The dull procession of celebrities being trotted out on stage last night seemed slightly humbled, however, as viewers around the world, anxious to witness five films they have not seen get judged (by what seem to be hermetically sealed criteria), watched presenters speak from embedded spots in the audience and balconies, instead of just the standard coveted place on stage.
Could it be that beleaguered television networks, their empires threatened by new technologies and a general ennui with the medium, have acknowledged a certain sense of their own finitude? Hollywood has always laboured under the pretense that it is, post-Camelot, some kind of final stronghold of American royalty. But, as show MC Chris Rock said glibly, there are only four stars in the audience; everyone else is just popular. Of those comprising the first group, Clint Eastwood and Tom Cruise were mentioned; maybe even Russell Crowe was thrown out there. Forgive us for saying so, Gladiator fans, but if that’s all we’ve got, we haven’t got much. Romper Stomper was a long time ago.
Other indicators the Oscars might be losing momentum: the totally bizarre conduct of the presenters. The result: a speciously sombre set by Yo-Yo Ma interspliced with Beyoncé wailing in French (a Whitney-esque breakdown can’t be far off), cut with a disoriented Dustin Hoffman and a coked-up Drew Barrymore having respective meltdowns. Even the short reel of award-winner Sydney Lumet’s lifetime achievements felt littered with undeniable mediocrity. Royalty? Classics? More like the pablum of an industry in decline, resisting self-awareness to its last breath.
Hungry for more Academy? Listen in as Varsity film critic Colin Tait recaps the Oscars on The First Word on CIUT-FM (89.5) this morning at 9 am.
