The Academy is a farce. Most people already knew this to be a statement of some truth, but after this year's Oscars walloped us with a one-two punch of irrelevancy, it certainly bears repeating. Not only did the Hollywood voters deny "Brokeback Mountain" its deserved Best Picture award, they snuck "Crash" in for the gold with a pivot of self-righteous posturing. I've been singing the praises of "Brokeback" and the criticisms "Crash" for months now, but this latest Oscar rant isn't about a mere film-geek scorned?it's about an art form undermined by its own shepherds.
Here's why.
Show me an Oscar-nominated movie that has ever been more openly ridiculed than "Brokeback Mountain," and I'll show you Santa Clause. In the three-month gestation period between the nominee announcements and the award show's dreadful birthing, Brokeback send-ups became the comical narcotics of choice for the national media. Whether an Internet parody or late-night zinger, everyone had fun with that "gay cowboy" movie; even Jon Stewart, the new Oscar host, used a Brokeback lampoon as the centerpiece of the ceremony's opening monologue.
Say the jabs were all in jest; call them harmless if you dare, but it seems clear to me that they were the cathartic howls of an openly homophobic nation. Stephen King hit the nail on the head with these words from a post-Oscar editorial in Entertainment Weekly Magazine: "...American pop culture is intent on passing this passionate, well-meant, and well-made movie like a kidney stone. And how does the American pop culture pass what it cannot stand? Easy. It laughs that s--- right out of its system."
And that's exactly what happened. An affectionate fan of the movie, I still chuckled heartily when my buddy coined a once novel homophobic quip, now a fraternal staple: "Don't go all 'Brokeback' on me." It feels wretched to know that I didn't stick up for a movie whose superiority as both art and social document seemed like foregone conclusions; what feels worse is that the Academy, a body "dedicated" to the merit and power of film, chose not to stick up for it either.
Ironically, the Academy played the controversy card more than ever this year, puffing up its desire to bring a daring topicality to the forefront of the medium. Nominations for discordant films like "Munich" and the pointedly anti-Bush "Syriana" had conservatives pitching fits at a so-called liberal-minded Hollywood, one that was dangerously out of touch with this country's mainstream values.
Amidst all the political hoopla, the nominations for mostly small, issue-driven pictures, and the pat self-congratulation (this year's ceremony featured a two minute montage dedicated to the Oscar's "recognition" of socially significant films), the Academy seemed poised to fulfill an obligation of its own making: use its awards to help movies make a difference.
But it didn't have the guts for the gay movie, giving the nation's discomfort, as well as their own, one big glossy stamp of approval. For a body of voters that seemed to pride themselves on a streak of rebellion, as exemplified by George Clooney's acceptance exclamation, "Proud to be out of touch," the Academy appeared startlingly in touch with mainstream fears and prejudices.
Perhaps more disheartening, the Academy snubbed "Brokeback" with a wink and a preservationist's parry. What to do when you lack the moxie to hold a marvelous yet gay-themed film on your shoulders, but still have a reputation to protect? Why, you hand the trophy to a movie that wishes it were daring, one that speaks to the redemption of the well-to-do suburban hermits that make up the majority of Academy voters: a little movie called "Crash."
An ensemble drama that purports to explore modern race relations, "Crash" is an overwrought and overbearing take on ethnic unrest fresh from a can of Campbell's condensed soup. The movie is often referred to as provocative and divisive, but only because some viewers loved it and others hated it. I'm not sure if arguments over quality can nab controversy credits, but I do know that most of Middle-America wouldn't even consider viewing "Brokeback Mountain," simply because it featured gay characters.
And when a movie's themes disgust people before they even see it, real-life contention is a-brewin'. But if "Crash's" themes?roughly, that everyone is both a perpetrator and a victim of racism, that everyone has the rind of a bigot and the mushy center of a saint?are to be thought of as controversial, then so should any message gleaned from a "Sesame Street" sing-along.
By criticizing "Crash," I am not saying that racism is, in this day and age, any less of an issue than homophobia. But in the film itself, racism is undeniably simplified beyond recognition, neatly molded into a dramatic obstacle of mere happenstance. It's no wonder that the Academy chose it over "Brokeback Mountain"; "Crash's" vision of universal empathy transcending tumultuous times sits much easier than "Brokeback's," one in which the tragedy of intolerance is static, resolute even.
Funny, the heartbreak of the film's impossible love story extends to the real world, a world that can't fess up to its own steadfast prejudice. I know no better proof of "Brokeback Mountain's" pressing social significance than its ultimate rejection by the American public and the Academy voters. Likewise, the Oscars' blind embrace of "Crash" can be considered the best evidence of its dangerously abridged take on a monumental issue.
In the most telling moment of the 78th annual Oscar ceremony, "Crash" writer and director Paul Haggis had the gall to quote the legendary German thespian, Bertolt Brecht, during his acceptance speech for Best Screenplay, saying "...art...is not a mirror to hold up to society, but a hammer with which to shape it." Pointing toward his new Oscar, he continued, "I guess this is ours."
Eek. What a display of misguided self-flattery. With those words, Haggis became the poster child for an awards show that flirted with relevancy, but settled for narcissism.
Not only did the Academy make the wrong choices, it also illustrated a sad truth about how we like our movies: socially and morally stagnant. Contorting itself into all sorts of pompous victory stances, the Academy cemented its reputation as a faux-progressive body, dragging American cinema down with it. It's a group that wields a hammer not in the name of social change, but because it's a swell prop for that all-important pose in front of the collective Hollywood mirror.