Columnist: Oscars contain usual glaring injustices
The envelope, please
’Tis the season for critical conde
scension. Time for Rex Reed to an
nounce that his “big succulent peach
of a movie” didn’t get so much as a
wink from Oscar, then go on to rave
endlessly about fashion crimes com
mitted during Monday night’s Acad
emy Awards ceremony. Time for
every critic from Joe Bob Briggs to
Andrew Sarris to tell why Oscar is
irrelevant, passe, rigged, insignifi
cant, incestuous, too square, too fash
ionable, dull, athcorclical and just
flat-out wrong.
But even after they’ve maimed
Oscar’s potency by issuing their own
pedantic top-10 lists (always includ
ing some nine-hour-plus “film essay”
on the color blue) and donned rented
tuxedos to host their own “If we
picked the winners” TV shows, they
will watch the proceedings. They will
watch through the flatulence and
back-stabbing, the groveling thank
yous, and the sickening pomp and
glitter. They will titter at the faux pas
and bow their heads in quiet rever
ence while Oscar trots out some 101
year-old extra from D.W. Griffith’s
“Intolerance” who will, complete
with shakes and sporadic fits of narco
lepsy, misremember American
cinema’s golden age. They will see
the thing out until the final Oscar
nominated song is wclped out by
Sonny Bono or Robert Goulet, and the
last envelope — sealed what seems
like decades ago by Price-Water
house — is peeled open by some un
nominated, coke-fried anti-celebrity.
IThis year’s Oscars contain the
same glaring aberrations of justice as
any previous year. Deserving maver
ick films like “Raising Arizona” and
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“River’s Edge” were ignored, but
then only the kind of idealist who
wants to play a street-corner shell
game more than three times (“Just one
more time, but lemme get my specs on
for this one...”) would give them any
chance to begin with. “Angel Heart”
was monstrously neglected for the
cinematography nomination, but that
was a film for weirdos who’ve actu
ally plodded through Goethe’s
“Faust.” Tom Waits’ performance in
“Ironweed” makes those in the run
ning for Best Supporting Actor look
like walk-ins at the Stanislavski
Matchbook University and was the
only really lively thing about an oth
erwise morose cinematic meditation.
Barry Levinson’s “Tin Men,” one
of the finest American films of the
decade, was ignored completely by
the Hollywood glitterati. The Acad
emy did, however, nominate the star
of Levinson’s far-inferior “Good
Morning, Vietnam,” Robin Wil
liams, as Best Actor for, once more,
playing himself. He did do it well,
though.
For Best Picture predictions, it’s
best to think like the Academy. For
most people who follow film relig
iously, mind-melding with the Acad
emy is a frightening thought.
“The Last Emperor,” Bernardo
Bertolucci’s staggering, geo-erotic
epic, was too big to be ignored by the
powers that be, but the director’s
name is Bertolucci. Also, the stars
arc, except for roles too trivial to
mention, from faraway places with
strange sounding names. The main
exception, Peter O’Toole (what’s
making an epic without Peter
O’Toole?), is,one, from England, and
two, “not one of us, if you know what
I mean” (remember, we’re thinking
like the Academy now).
Unless this is one of those fluke
years where everyone in the Acad
emy went to Cannes over vacation,
“The Last Emperor” won’t take an
Oscar.
“Moonstruck” is a fine film, but
it’s a little too quirky for the Acad
emy. There’s too much over-the-top
acting (blamed on the moon, of
course) and the whole affair’s a bit
stagey for Oscar’s finicky tastes.
When there are safer films like “Fatal
Attraction” and “Broadcast News” to
John Bruce/Daily Nebraskan
fall for, who needs “Moonstruck?”
“Broadcast News” is my pick for
the Best Picture. It’s a picture-perfect
contemporary screwball comedy, and
there’s a Hollywood camaraderie feel
to it (blessed for all time by an unan
nounced cameo by Academy favorite
Jack Nicholson) that should make it a
cinch for the big statue.
“Fatal Attraction” might take it
simply by virtue of being the “picture
everybody’s talking about,’’and if the
Academy’s in this kind of populist
mood, this yuppie/AIDS fable should
grab every category in which it’s
nominated. The Film itself is nothing
but well-executed hooey, of course,
but it got mentioned in Time and
Newsweek outside the entertainment
page, so it must be important.
“Hope and Glory” is a strange 1 ittle
film memoir by a director who’s not
exactly Oscar-prone, John Boorman.
Also, as far as Hollywood goes, Eng
land is as far away as Tibet. We let the
limeys in as brothers, but we still
won’t let our Oscar marry one. I think
we can safely say “Chariots of Fire”
was just the Academy’s version of
affirmative action. The quota is
probably filled for the next decade or
so.
The next big guess, of course, is
who will sing the five nominated Best
Original Songs during the ceremony.
Usually the duties of singing these
usually pathetic ditties arc split be
tween people you haven’t heard sing
since you raided your father’s record
collection for something romantic to
put on the stereo that weekend in high
school when your parents were away,
and atrocious top-40 stars just as bad
as the ones who originally performed
the songs in the films.
Perhaps the most sinful omission
in this categoi7 is 1987’s obvious
musical highlight — Annette Fu
nicello and Fishbone together at last
in “Back to the Beach” singing
“Jamaica Ska.” And then Pearl Bailey
and Huey Lewis and the News singing
it at the ceremony? Where is the
Academy’s sense of adventure?
The nomination of the song “Cry
Freedom” as the song from “Cry
Freedom” destroyed an age-old
dream of mine — seeing Barbara
Mandrell sing Peter Gabriel’s
“Biko.”
The other tunes are really too
undistinguished for anyone to care
who sings them.
Bob Seger’s “Shakedown” done
by Andy Williams maybe ...
What a night, what a night.
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You like <Y\e?'*9 P
K_“Sully r.eld, jB
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