Pushing the Envelope at the Oscars: Selectoral Fraud?

Those of you who are gamblers might want to make note of the following observations:

1. Hollywood is very much into reinforcing the attitude of cathartic resolution; it’s the dramatic counterpart to the fine nation we have...releasing tension through scripted carpet bombing. Therefore, Imelda Staunton will be passed over this year; she’s the star of Mike Leigh’s Vera Drake. [A1] Ditto for Don, as in Cheadle. Neither one of them had roles which allowed them to explode at any juncture...as per the limitations of the scripts they had in hand. Their roles were much too muted for the maniacal Academy members who live for the Big Killer Moment. Abortion and Genocide don’t play well on the Red Carpet either so...if you’re taking action next weekend...leave them out of the running. [A2]

2. I’d say the Shoe-in of The Night will come with the Metaphysical Prankster Charlie Kaufman’s Oscar. He was the writer for Being John Malkovich, Human Nature, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, Adaptation, and...from this year’s goodies...Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. In spite of the fact that Hollywood doesn’t take too well to plumbing the deep well of Mind Games, the members are likely to finally acknowledge this cerebral guy who made John Malkovich famous. [B] The horrible disservice he did to the American public —with George Clooney’s, Drew Barrymore’s and Julia Roberts’ help— in compounding misconceptions about the CIA (in the 2002 Confessions’ biopic of Chuck Barris tortured existence) will not be held against him. The Academy’s international orgy of vapid pop-cultural celebration makes this a lock. At the races, handicappers always had a Best Bet of the day. This is it. Put the rent down.

3. Annette Bening had her heart broken the year Boys Don’t Cry forced the Oscar into Hillary Swank’s hands; listening to Hillary’s subsequent speeches at various award shows made me wish it had been forced down her throat. Nevertheless, having passed up the hysterical Bening character of American Beauty in ’99 —entering into her decision to have a baby?— Hollywood is unlikely to look the other way again...giving wanker Swanker a One-Two Punch over Warren’s lovely again. This, in spite of the fact that her Julia (from Being Julia) provides the ocassion for Hollywood to applaud raging insecurity among women. Her performance champions thoughtlessness, insincerity and cruelty at a moment when it will be embraced whole-heartedly by those who worship rising in the ranks. Frankly, it’s rank. And, as they say, timing is everything.

4. If Kevin Costner could be awarded Best Director in 1990 over Coppola, Frears, Schroeder and Scorsese —all of whom did a much better job in that category— then anything’s possible, of course. I can’t imagine Martin being passed up this go-round —even though I’m not particularly a fan of his, and certainly not a cheerleader for Aviator— but...one never knows. What we can count on is the Syndrome of No Consequences, the law by which it is clear that American abominations of any kind will go unpunished. It’s a bit of a stretch to draw a parallel between medical/food sanctions abroad and the Hollywood Cold Shoulder being applied to a given artist or product, but they both derive from the same attitudinal set and general setting. The Powers will do what they want...that’s in their perceived interests. Where no exceptions are made for priceless Iraqi antiquities, you can certainly count on insensitivity toward a given performance. [C1]

5. The Token Award of the Evening will probably be handed out to Morgan Freeman as Best Supporting Actor —he, with Scorsese, having zero Oscars on the shelf— unless Foxx’s Ray pulls in the Best Actor nod. In that case, the (token) White Award of the Evening will probably go to Thomas Haden Church for his funny, sledgehammer stud-of-a-sort performance in Sideways. All is not Race in Hollywood, but when it comes to the races...there’s a clear line drawn, The Year of Denzell/Halle (Token) Year notwithstanding. Number of nominations for black actors 5 of 20 notwithstanding. [C2] They will scrap Morgan’s "Scrap" Dupris portrayal, unless they need ’em on tap for you and me.

6. Since the so-called experts have chosen to ignore Ousmane Sembene’s Moolaade completely [D], The Sea Inside should get all the leftist support it can for Best Foreign Film. Since the so-called experts have chosen to honor euthanasia in an odd way (with one of the Best Film nominees...which I don’t want to divulge at present...for fear of ruining a filmgoing experience for anyone)...I believe a life-affirming movie about the subject should be blessed. And, in this case, I think academy members will steer clear of the usual kind of tripe they lavish awards on...and do the right thing by Bardem’s miraculous performance plus. [E] Please don’t get this mixed up with the insipid Beyond the Sea. The Spanish film has its problems, but the quadriplegic activist’s fight for the right to die...in a setting in which religious and secular cheerleaders are not pitted against one another with two-dimensional strokes...is worth acknowledging. You’ll get good odds at the London bookmakers on this babe.

7. Almost always, Best Picture and Best Director awards go hand in hand. Four of the five Best Picture Nominees also have their directors nominated this year; Finding Neverland and Mike Leigh are the exceptions. From 1927 to 1989 they went to different flicks only 17 times; I believe the ratio’s not much different from the 90s onward. Whatever the case may be on that count, however, I have a strong suspicion that 2005 will turn out to be one of those "odd" years in which a single film doesn’t reap all the marbles...unless Scorsese wins. With 11 nominations, The Aviator topped a list of nominees that added up to a bittersweet victory for Miramax, the New York-based art house studio that released the film (with Warner Brothers) while its principals were negotiating a divorce from their corporate parent, the Walt Disney Company. Tallying Miramax’s nominations —20 this year— is just one intriguing way of taking the measure of the Oscar race. However, there is lots of buzz among the cognoscenti that the envelopes have been steamed open of late, paralleling the fraud we’ve experienced at the Big Ballot Box. If so, this is a sad state of affairs, indeed, whereby one cannot count on the Land of Make Believe to provide more than a fictitious count...in any quarter.

In talking about repersentatives of Price Waterhouse, official scrutineers for Oscar’s purposes for years, David Mamet once observed: "These two ritualistically dumpy men reassure us that, in spite of the vast rewards to be gained by irregularity, our interests as a people are being protected. There still may be a surprise winner; God and the Devil still exist." [G]

The two grave-looking men from PW might have invested the show-in-question with drama and authority in recent history. But the jig is up. Let’s not (get) beat around (with) the Bush (thing). In spite of my recent $ucce$$ with the Boston Red Sox [H], this Bettors Guide should no more inspire confidence in putting anything on the line than Electoral Politics’ Shenanigans does. Let’s be real.

To push the envelope, of course, is to extend the limits of what is possible. It’s interesting —particularly this year, considering Scorsese’s flick— that the term is derived from aviation slang. It relates to graphs of aerodynamic performance on which the envelope is the boundary line representing an aircraft’s capabilities.

Usually I offer suggestions for action when I write, action that can be taken in solidarity. However, because I am convinced at the moment that such solidarity is not in the works for activists [F], I have turned —sadly— to more cerebral fare. Still, the above seven segments are offered up in the spirit of something more than mental masturbation. And I trust that someone will come up with a way in which to get people out of the balcony.