I love the Oscars. I love them in all of their bloated, pretentious glory. When you open up your web browser and read the umpteenth article on How the Oscars Can Be Saved, which they have been running every year of my life, you start to believe that the Oscars need saving. And this was the lowest rated Oscar telecast ever, mainly because all of the Best Picture nominees grossed less than Spider-Man 3. On its opening weekend. (OK – a slight exaggeration. But if you take out Juno, it is a true statement).
And I’m really happy No Country For Old Men won. The Coens are by far my favorite directors, and I’m unwinding the day before the Bar by watching Blood Simple, their first movie, for about the one millionth time. But let’s face it, they don’t exactly get people running to the TV set. And they aren’t any better than they were two days ago.
The Academy has done much better in recent years of trying to award the best movie. This is an institution which never handed out a Best Director award to Kurosawa, Bergman, Hitchcock, or Kubrick. It’s the same body which honored Ordinary People over Raging Bull, Dances With Wolves over GoodFellas, and The Greatest Show On Earth over High Noon. Hey, it only took them 30 years to get around to honoring Scorcese. So at least they are trying, dipping into the indie films to flesh out the nominees. Even if they don’t let them win that often, at least they get invited to the party.
But what the Oscars need is to stop being ashamed of themselves. You know what? Be gaudy and tacky. Stop being ashamed of yourselves. Slap yourself on the back and just go for broke. Have twenty minute musical numbers. Wear outrageous clothes. And keep honoring good but not great movies. Because Hollywood is at its best when it goes overboard. Stop being humble. Be your self-congratulatory best. Or worst. And next year, give an Oscar to some actor turned director working on a vanity project instead of a master of the craft. It will be just like old times.
Failing that, let's just have more Gary Busey:
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