If you’re like me, your entire life revolves around the annual Academy Awards. (Then again, if you’re like me, you’re probably also very, very alone, but that’s beside the point.) Oscar obsession usually starts around September with the Toronto International Film Festival, when I spend endless hours ignoring loved ones in favour of reading reviews of whatever four-hour Ang Lee movie is premiering that day. The next five months until the Academy reveals its award winners are like hot, sweaty foreplay for any true Oscar junkie—the sweet caress of the “For Your Consideration” ads, the sensuous lubrication of the box office reports, the gentle thrusting of the early award shows (Golden Globes, People’s Choice Awards, Independent Spirit Awards), all leading up to a vaguely unsatisfying and all-toopremature Oscar telecast. It’s a yearly ritual that gives my life meaning.
But this year, the Oscars are in jeopardy. As you’ve probably heard, the Writer’s Guild of America is striking because of a dispute with the Producer’s Guild over residual payments for sales of movies and TV shows over online venues like Itunes. The writers believe they should receive 2.5 per cent of online revenue in residuals. By contrast, the producers believe the writers should receive zero per cent.
As a result of the strike, no Writer’s Guild members are allowed to write new movie and TV scripts until the issue is resolved. Furthermore, anyone who appears on a show that is being produced in violation of strike guidelines is perceived as not supporting the writers’ cause, and can rightly be considered a traitor. As a result, virtually no important people will cross a picket line. This is why Leno’s guest the other night was some guy from the L.A. zoo and Conan’s guest was Bob Saget.
Awards ceremonies are similarly affected, as evidenced by the recent cancellation of the Golden Globe Awards. Oh yes, that beloved presenters’ banter is, in fact, written by a professional, and unless the award show received special permission from the Writer’s Guild, no big stars will cross the picket line. Even if they did, what would they say? Since we all know the main appeal of the Golden Globes is the outside chance of seeing a celebrity drunk, there was nothing left to do but cancel it.
For any hard-core award show fan, this is bad news. As Dick Clark says, the Globes are “the party of the year,” and if Dick Clark says it, it must be true. Who can forget all those wacky and wonderful memories from past Globes ceremonies? Like that time when…uh…well, actually, the only really wacky moment I can think of is when Pia Zadora won, and that was before I was born, but the point remains: we’ll surely be missing out on some wonderful memories. Another unfortunate result of the cancellation is that Steven Spielberg, this year’s lifetime achievement winner, will have to wait until 2009 to collect his trophy. Poor guy. I hope he catches a break someday.
With the Globes cancelled, all eyes are now on Oscar. If I may illustrate this situation using a metaphor in the form of the 1996 movie Executive Decision, the Globes are like Steven Seagal to the Oscars’ Kurt Russell: if Seagal dies early on, then Russell can no longer be considered safe. Okay, terrible example, but you get the idea.
If the writers and the producers don’t come to an agreement soon, the Oscars will probably be cancelled. And with no Oscar-cast to watch, my life will lose all meaning, and I might be forced to go outside, read a book, or even interact with other people, and nobody wants that. So if anyone from the Producer’s Guild is reading this, I beg of you: if you don’t care about fairness, honesty, accountability, and creativity…could you at least care about me?
