That Irresistable Oscar

by Kristina Curkovic

Break out your dress shoes; slip on the white glove; step into that silk dres we're headed to the 70th annual Academy Awards.

Not really, of course, unless you've got some spectacular connections security will most likely be tighter on Oscar night than it was at the Grammys. We'll be sitting in sweats at home to watch the endless parade of usually well­dressed, coiffured and slicked­down stars who bask in the limelight to which they've become accustomed, excited at the possibility that a little man naked on a pedestal could bestow upon them future success. No, Steven Spielberg will probably be dressed. I'm talking about Oscar.

This year, there were few surprises with the nominations - aside from the fact that nobody knows many of the nominations, and the Titanic-launcher teen heartthrob Leonardo DiCaprio was passed over for a Best Actor nod. Generally, there are few surprises with the Academy Awards; like figure skating, you can often guess who it is that's been pre­ordained to walk away with that statue in hand. Most of the watchers of the award show have only seen a few of the movies; many of the so­called popular flicks hardly make it past the big-name theaters in big-time cities. Afterglow, The Sweet Hereafter, and Mrs. Brown are a few examples of films this year that seemed to be geared toward a specific, sophisticated audience (i.e. one that will end up voting on the films' merit during February and March). Many of the categories involve movies that most of us haven't even heard of, like the foreign films and the "shorts" that we won't even be able to find at an oddball video store. The movies that are genuinely popular, by the standards of the general movie-going public that endures sticky seats, noisy audiences and flickering screens, get nominated for the who­cares categories like "Best Special Effects," "Best Make-Up," or "Best Sound."

So we're not rich or connected enough to go; we recognize few of the films or their actors; our favorite films are usually ignored in the process: what makes us so fascinated with the Awards even with its faults?

One factor that will clinch my following of the ceremony is that if I happen to go see one of those "hot" films nominated for a top award, I religeously watch the awards show in its three­ or four­hour entirety (perhaps well trained already by this year's Titanic, or last year's The English Patient, or Braveheart of two years ago). All of us become attatched to that one film, or two, in particular, and anxiously await for its name to be called just once, so that our visit to the theater where we saw it can be justified.

This year, two such films will make me watch. The Full Monty has gotten the nomination for three of the big awards Best Film, Director, and Original Screenplay and Good Will Hunting nabbed an astonishing nine, including Best Film, Original Screenplay, Actor (Matt Damon) and Supporting Actress (Minnie Driver). The Full Monty's success at award time is a little surprising, for comedies, no matter how impressive, are generally passed over by the Academy (although Tom Jones, another bawdy British comedy, won the award in 1963). Which speaks a mountain of Monty, the most popular British film in history. It played at Ann Arbor's State Theater for months, and returned later to the Michigan after its nomination. How often does a foreign film, let alone a foreign comedy, strike such a chord with the general audience? While it is unlikely that the movie will actually recieve an award over its revered, big­name competetors (namely, crowd­favorite Titanic), its nomination alone is a huge indication of its success. But surprises do happen, and I'll be waiting for Monty's name at the show.

Good Will Hunting appeared in theaters among a crowd of Oscar hopefuls at the end of last year. Its endearing quality rests on the talent, charm, and youth of its writers and stars. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, friends from childhood, burst into Hollywood with a triumphant first attempt at screenwriting together. The big awards to watch for are Best Original Screenplay and Best Actor: the young men now compete against a sagacious set of long­time writers (including Woody Allen for Deconstructing Harry), and Damon against a venerable crew of actors, to clinch a couple of statues. Again, it seems unlikely that Matt Damon, his wonderful and award­deserving performance nontwithstanding, could pull a Best Actor trophy away from the likes of favored screen legends Robert Duvall, Dustin Hoffman and Jack Nicholson, but Damon is a very strong contender. As for the screenplay award, Damon and Affleck's brilliant and believable screenplay is a front runner for a sure prize. The fact that such writing comes from such youngsters itself deserves an award.

Aside from such moves that have won our hearts, the awards ceremony often holds us with its pure extravagance music, dancing, costly jewels and oh­so­designer dresses that, for days after, will be spotlighted in gushing Entertainment Tonight interviews. There are the usually dull tributes to the wrinkled and forgetful actors or directors of Hollywood. Perhaps this year we'll have to endure a heartfelt, postumous tribute to Chris Farley; and if I have to watch another montage of a sweaty fat man falling on furniture, I will become nauseous.

But perhaps Barbara/Madonna/Celine will sing; perhaps a famous actor will appear on an unfamiliar arm; perhaps another actor will make a shocking statement supporting or decrying causes like animal rights, pornography, or Bill Clinton. And these are the moments that we hope for: treats of bizarre behavior from actors who are painfully stoic upon receiving that award, or embarrassingly emotional and excited (who can forget Cuba Gooding Jr?).

For these, we watch and make our hopeful predictions, smile at the faces that moved us at the theater. Maybe it's these faces, their supposed "real" selves that we watch for. Who are these men and women who have somehow managed to make us cry, laugh, recoil in horror, or lean forward in anticipation? And which one of them will win the award for doing it the best? Which is why we watch late into the night to see. MR

Kristina Curkovic is a senior in Linguistics and English, and is the Arts Editor of the Review. She'll be wearing a stunning sweatsuit accessorized with beer and chips at this year's Academy Awards.

This article was published in the 11 March 1998 edition of The Michigan Review (Volume 16, Number 8).
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