You ever see a movie and think: this doesn’t deserve an Oscar but it will surely get one? If you haven’t, I recommend Tarantino’s latest film Once Upon a Time In Hollywood. The movie isn’t bad by any means. There’s drama and there’s crime and there’s some fun Hollywood nostalgia. If you have three hours and some change to spare, why not? For every fun moment though, there was a moment that I was aware that the film wasn’t making history. It didn’t change the way I saw things and it wasn’t a revolutionary step in the world of cinema. In ten years, I don’t think I’ll remember the major plot points of the film.
In a year with films like Us, The Farewell, Uncut Gems, and Midsommar that in some way pushed the boundaries (or were just really, really good movies), we continue to see these movies overlooked in favor of famous names and familiar plotlines. It’s hard not to become jaded towards award shows like the Oscars.
We know that names like Scorsese and Tarantino, while solid artists in their own respect but who have the comfort of renown, will snag awards effortlessly out of the hands of people who put in tireless hours of labor just so the industry will know their names. We also know that war movies that nobody saw but everybody claims are “beautifully shot” will earn a nod from the academy––even if the movie goes completely unwatched.
This nomination season did bring some surprises, though. Parasite, a South Korean film that tells the story of a rich and a poor family whose lives become increasingly tangled, was nominated for six awards, including best picture and director. Usually confined to the “foreign films” category, this could mean major things for director Bong Joon Ho in particular.
Despite this ground-breaking achievement, is it enough to counteract a culture that rewards the status quo? While I certainly don’t want to undermine the gravity of Parasite’s success, it’s hard to ignore the fact that Greta Gerwig was left off the list for best director and that there was one actor of color––Cynthia Erivo for her performance in Harriet––nominated across four categories. Even though Parasite has a whopping six nominations, with so many big (see also white, male) names on the list, I wonder if the academy will even grace the film with a single win.
It’s time to question the validity of award shows.
Sure, it’s tempting to get caught up in the academy’s opinions (how good WAS Uncut Gems if it couldn’t score an Oscar?), we must start to resist these temptations.
The first big misstep of awards season happened earlier this year with Golden Globes nominations. The Farewell was rightfully nominated, but it was placed in the “foreign film” category. Starring Asian American actor Awkwafina, The Farewell tells the story of an American raised woman venturing to Changchun to say goodbye to her grandmother. While the rest of the family knows Nai-Nai has mere weeks to live, they opt to tell her a lie instead and use a wedding as a cover to say their final farewells.
Though some of the dialogue is spoken in Mandarin, this is the story of an American woman. What does it say about how the Golden Globes sees “foreign” in relation to race? With the most coveted awards reserved for “Best Film” and “Best Director”, the Golden Globes found a way to both exorcize and undermine the success of a story about Asian Americans.
While the Oscars failed to recognize The Farwell, Joker scored a shocking 11 nominations.
I would actually be okay with the nominations––I hate award shows tendencies to veer away from movies that people actually saw and liked––except that once again, we are rewarding the ramblings and ravings of white men. Would we tolerate this sort of behavior, this messaging, from a woman? From a man of color? From a trans person? These are, of course, rhetorical questions; no, we wouldn’t.
Furthermore, actor Joaquin Phoenix used intense method acting during the production of the movie and even alienated his coworkers in the process. Sure, the product might have been entertaining, but we only tolerate this behavior because of his identity. With hundreds of hardworking actors who step off the set and transform back into decent human beings, should we tolerate––even reward––this behavior?
On perhaps a little less political note, the lack of recognition for horror and other genre films deeply skews the results of these shows. Although, on the other hand, the Academy now has a history of using genre as an excuse to cover pretty obvious racism and completely dismiss films like Get Out from winning in major categories.
This year, we were graced by two stunning films: Midsommar and Us (that’s right, I’ll never stop talking about either of these movies). Lupita N’yongo portrayed not one, but two complex characters in the span of just over two hours. The writing is somehow funny and suspenseful––it’s rare that movies can do both––and it was scored with familiar songs with a horrifying twist.
Similarly, Midsommar rewarded us with a trippy journey to rural Sweden. Here, too, we found several unexpected turns in the plot and a cast of hardworking actors––specifically Florence Pugh, whose journey through grief was painful to watch (but in, like, a good way).
Both Florence Pugh and Lupita N’yongo were able to create complex and haunted characters who do some evil things. Neither of them alienated coworkers or acted irrationally or violently on set. They also didn’t win Oscars.
This award season, we have a lot to think about. When Oscar nominations came out, I was both disappointed and hesitantly optimistic. In a sea of white faces and white names, it felt like Parasite was a ray of light. Maybe, just maybe, the film could take home an award and be the talk of the year.
But why even bother getting my hopes up? With just 16% of the voting body being people of color, films that deviate from the white standard hardly have a chance of winning. And even when movies about people of color get chosen––they often depict black trauma (think movies about slavery) or white saviorism (cough, cough, Green Book, cough).
With such set rules, we rarely see a film rewarded for its creativity. Rather than using the Oscars as a venue to reward nuance and revolution in film, it’s used to tell directors, actors, and producers that there is a formula for winning. That if they want to be recognized for their work, they’ll make the kind of film the academy expects. If you’re a woman or a person of color, your story will be non-threatening and appeal to the white, male voting body.
This year, let’s ditch the Oscars and celebrate films that will actually change history.