Monday, May 4, 2020

A Personal History of Oscar Watching: 2015

Michael Keaton and Co. accept the Oscar for Best Picture at the 2015 Academy Awards ceremony.


The 87th Academy Awards

Ceremony date: February 22, 2015
Best Picture: Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)
Best Director: Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu for Birdman
Best Actor: Eddie Redmayne for The Theory of Everything
Best Actress: Julianne Moore for Still Alice

It is fascinating to me how we use events to mark time in our lives. Intellectually, I know this ceremony was the #OscarsSoWhite ceremony. This was the year that particular criticism of the Academy really took off, and it has not let up since, nor should it. The criticism is fair and the discussion is vital to the long-term health of the Academy specifically and the industry in general. That can all be true, and yet that is not what I think of when I think of this ceremony.

By the time of the 2015 Oscars ceremony, we had been in New York a little more than a year. I had a steady job. We had a home. We had movie theaters and restaurants and parks and streets that we loved. New York had become more than a city. It was a way of living, and we did our best to soak up every second of life.

Part of that meant going to the movies, frequently and joyfully. I can tell you every theater I saw every Best Picture nominee in, and I can recount the experience in full. Eight movies in four different theaters, each one special. My wife and I were talking about it the other day, and she could not believe that we visited 34 different theaters in five years in New York. Every single one of them was unique, a reflection of its place in the city, an integral stitch in the cultural fabric.

We saw Richard Linklater’s Boyhood at the Lincoln Plaza (RIP) for my 26th birthday, apropos as there may not be a better birthday film than Linklater’s chronicle of lives lived. We saw Birdman in a packed house at the AMC Lincoln Square and knew instantly it was a special feat of filmmaking. The Imitation Game played a sold-out screening at The Paris, where the acoustics can be spotty in the cavernous hall, except when it is filled with people as it was that night. Damien Chazelle announced himself to us (and at least part of the world) in one of the small side theaters at the Regal Union Square.

These are all beautiful memories of a place and time, drifting further into the past but remaining clear as ever in my mind’s eye. This is how I mark time, and the Oscars are the great signposts of my life. I know where I was, whom I was with, and what I was doing for all of them.

The Daily Racing Form office. I used to work here.
On this particular occasion, Jen and I huddled together in the Daily Racing Form office on the 12th floor of the building at 44th and 3rd Avenue. I was working on the copy desk at the Form, and the TVs were usually on for racing during the day. On a Sunday night, though, we were all alone. We grabbed takeout from Davio’s just around the corner. As I said last time, Italian food in the city: almost always good. This was spectacular.

While the #OscarsSoWhite controversy and the ludicrous lack of recognition for Ava DuVernay’s masterful Selma dominated the conversation in the lead up to the show, the ceremony itself was about one thing: Boyhood vs. Birdman. It is remarkable how many years recently have come down to two films – usually one a more grounded human tale and the other a technical marvel. But perhaps that is just me, applying a loose narrative to events ruled more by the heart than the head.

I have always felt Boyhood, though good, is overpraised, while Birdman has been wrongly maligned. Unfortunately, the way this ceremony played out only reinforced those views. The Academy fell hard for Birdman, giving it four Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Director. Meanwhile, critical darling Boyhood came away with a single award for Supporting Actress for Patricia Arquette, an award I would have given to Birdman’s Emma Stone.

Though at the time I predicted Boyhood for the top awards, it seems now it was always likely to go this way. Birdman is a perfect Academy movie, a tribute to true artists, toiling away, struggling to make art that matters. It strikes out at focus-group-tested tentpole movies and attacks critics who may have their knives out in search of the blood of inauthenticity. There is pretension in Birman, but insomuch as there is, that pretension is earnest. Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu and Co. believe they are making great art and that that is a worthwhile endeavor. How could the Academy disagree?

Neil Patrick Harris hosted – Doogie Houser to me, the guy on How I Met Your Mother (a show I have never seen) to many – and failed to live up to the high bar set by his own Tony Awards gigs. That said, I found him energetic and entertaining. The Oscars ceremony is a different beast from the Tonys, and while Harris did the best he could, the musical theater schtick will only go so far in a roomful of cinema people.

After Birdman won the top prize, we headed home on the train. It was a long journey from my office in Midtown East up to our studio in West Harlem. At least, it felt long at the time. By the 90th Oscars ceremony, I would know better all the ways of getting around, the trains you could rely on and the ones best avoided. I would grow and learn and change, but every year, the Academy Awards would come back around to mark that growth and that change. To mark time.

Quick notes: Common and John Legend performing “Glory” from Selma remains one of the all-time great musical performances in Oscars history. … It was impossible to beat Foreign Language frontrunner Ida, by Pawel Pawlikowsi, but Andrey Zvyagintsev’s Leviathan is a masterpiece and one of the best films of the decade. Do seek it out. … I am also here to stump for Animated Feature nominee The Boxtrolls, which is a sneaky great animated film.

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Next time: We go to New Jersey to see how far a dollar can stretch and Leonardo DiCaprio finally wins an Oscar.

Sunday, May 3, 2020

A Personal History of Oscar Watching: 2014

Lupita Nyong'o accepts the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress at the 2014 Academy Awards ceremony.


The 86th Academy Awards

Ceremony date: March 2, 2014
Best Picture: 12 Years a Slave
Best Director: Alfonso Cuarón for Gravity
Best Actor: Matthew McConaughey for Dallas Buyer’s Club
Best Actress: Cate Blanchett for Blue Jasmine

We moved to New York City on January 28, 2014. By the time of the 86th Academy Awards, I was still without a job and we were without a permanent residence. We were staying in a sublet in Harlem around 135th Street. We watched the ceremony from a dingy hotel in Midtown Manhattan with one of those windows that looks out onto a brick wall. The wallpaper was ancient, the lightning was drab, and like much of the city, it was almost charming in its antiquity.

I have mentioned in this series how I tend to make major life changes just before the Oscars. Leaving my job, my friends, my family, my home, and everything else back in California to move clear across the country certainly qualifies. I have changed jobs, changed states, and added life partners, but the cardinal rule of my life never changes: I don’t miss the Oscars.

So, here we were, settled into our hotel. We ordered in Italian, which in New York City is basically always good. If you ever find yourself out east and need recommendations, I have many of them. Just ask. Tell ‘em Anthony sent you. They won’t know me, but the look of confusion should be worth the price of admission.

The last time I had watched the ceremony from a hotel room was 2007, when Ellen DeGeneres hosted. Now, seven years later, sitting in a hotel room on the other side of the country, there was Ellen hosting again. I always like her as a host. You know it will not be edgy, but it will be fun. I dislike when the host attacks the audience. It is a big night for everyone. Let’s just have some fun.

The talk-show world in the past decade has really handed itself over to wacky stunts and a desire to go viral. Ellen brought that energy to the ceremony this year when she ordered pizza for the audience and got out among the crowd to take the selfie shared ‘round the world. If you ever doubt the power or popularity of the Oscars or someone suggests the awards mean nothing to real people, remember that the selfie of Ellen, Lupita Nyong’o, Brad Pitt, Meryl Streep, et al, literally broke Twitter. It shut the website down briefly. The photo was shared by 3.4 million people. That’s power. That’s influence. That’s the Oscars.

As for the awards, it was Gravity vs. 12 Years a Slave. Alfonso Cuarón’s technically accomplished but, forgive the pun, airless space epic was probably the slight favorite heading into the night. That said, Steve McQueen’s Solomon Northup biopic had tied Gravity for the Producers Guild award and won the BAFTA for best film. So, it was neck and neck.

All night, Gravity just kept racking up awards, seven in all, including Best Director. Before the final envelope was opened, the tally was 7-2, with 12 Years a Slave having won Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress for Nyong’o (which we will talk about in a second). Then, Will Smith opened the envelope and announced 12 Years a Slave. I was ecstatic. I jumped out of my seat. McQueen was ecstatic, as well, and jumped for joy on the Oscars stage. His speech was beautiful, bold, and brilliant. It was as exultant as I have ever been watching the ceremony.

Back in January, I called 12 Years a Slave the best movie of the decade. Beyond that, I think it is one of the best films of all time, a modern masterpiece, and the greatest Best Picture winner ever. I am aware of the company that puts it ahead of: Casablanca, The Godfather and The Godfather Part II, Schindler’s List, Sunrise, Annie Hall, The Bridge on the River Kwai, Midnight Cowboy. All great. All pantheon films. So is 12 Years a Slave.

I initially conceived this series of Oscars-watching remembrances after the joy I felt seeing Parasite win Best Picture. That made me think about the other moments watching this ceremony over the years that gave me equal joy. The series has drifted from that original thesis, but the desire to reflect on those joyous moments remains, and when I think about Oscars-watching joy, this is the year that comes to mind.

The Best Picture win for 12 Years a Slave is probably my second-favorite Oscars moment ever. It was an instance of the Academy just getting it exactly right. My favorite all-time Academy Awards moment, however, came a little less than two hours earlier on the same night, when Christoph Waltz announced Lupita Nyong’o as the Best Supporting Actress.

Nyong’o was definitely the frontrunner, having won the Screen Actors Guild award, but she lost the BAFTA and the Golden Globe to reigning Best Actress Jennifer Lawrence. So, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that the Academy might pass up one of the great screen performances of the decade for subpar work in a mediocre movie. Thankfully, that did not happen.

Then, to top it off, Nyong’o got on stage and gave one of the great speeches in Academy history. I know I am using a lot of superlatives to describe this night, but if any film and performance have earned them, this film and this performance have. I have watched Nyong’o’s gracious, heartfelt speech 20 times, and I will likely watch it 20 more and then some. It never fails to bring a tear to my eye. If you have not seen it recently, go back and watch it. The actress displays the kind of humility and awareness of the moment to which we should all aspire.

My life was in disarray. Savings were dwindling. Our sublet would be up in four weeks. Jen was working hard, but it could not continue like that forever. The future was as uncertain as it has ever been. I needed this night. I needed these winners. For whatever else Hollywood does, it provides us an escape – something we are all reflecting on amid the pandemic. At that moment in time and that place in my life, I needed Ellen DeGeneres taking a selfie, Lupita Nyong’o thanking the Academy, and Steve McQueen jumping for joy. And, there they were, right when I needed them.

Quick notes: The dual wins for Dallas Buyers Club in the Actor and Supporting Actor categories still bums me out. Matthew McConaughey and Jared Leto were good in an underwhelming film, but better work was passed over. … If you have never seen Best Live Action Short winner Helium, seek it out. It is truly lovely. … This ceremony also featured a random 75th anniversary tribute to The Wizard of Oz. Again, these are the things we need to cut if we want a shorter show. Someone, take notes.

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Next time: I have a job in an office, and in that office, I will watch Birdman triumph.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

A Personal History of Oscar Watching: 2013

George Clooney, Grant Heslov, and Ben Affleck celebrate their Best Picture win for Argo at the 2013 Academy Awards ceremony.


The 85th Academy Awards

Ceremony date: February 24, 2013
Best Picture: Argo
Best Director: Ang Lee for Life of Pi
Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis for Lincoln
Best Actress: Jennifer Lawrence for Silver Linings Playbook

Jen and I had been together less than a month when the 85th Academy Awards came around. In 2020, we celebrated our eighth Oscars ceremony together and second as a married couple. Understandably, less than a month into the relationship, she did not quite grasp the importance of the ceremony to me. What sane person could?

We met at the newspaper. She was an education and business reporter, and I was on the copy desk. Watching the ceremony at my dad’s house would be the first time she met my family, but of course, in my Oscars-addled mind, asking her to share the Oscars with me was the bigger deal. She agreed and we chose to make a weekend of it.

We drove down to San Francisco in the afternoon and met some people for a late lunch. That late lunch kept getting pushed back and back and back until it was certain we would not make to my dad’s in time for the show. She did not seem concerned. I wanted to seem cool, an act that did not include being overly concerned about the Academy Awards. Inside, I was counting the minutes.

I asked my dad’s wife to DVR the ceremony so we could watch it from the beginning. By the time we arrived at my dad’s house in Tracy, we were about 45 minutes late for the ceremony – the first and last time I would be late for my Oscars viewing appointment. The DVR had kicked in just late enough to miss the opening monologue. I would learn later that this was probably a lucky break.

Seth MacFarlane, of Family Guy fame, was the host that year. An odd choice by any measure, MacFarlane apparently opened the show with a song about how he had seen the boobs of many of the nominated actresses. The song was called, “We Saw Your Boobs.”

Years later, when the Harvey Weinstein scandal broke, people would point to a joke about Weinstein made by MacFarlane during this ceremony as proof that the industry knew. MacFarlane essentially confirmed this by saying the joke was inspired by an actress friend of his who had had a run-in with the disgraced producer. MacFarlane was celebrated in some corners for having the courage to call out Weinstein from Hollywood’s biggest stage. All I am saying is: Let’s not give the “We Saw Your Boobs” guy too much credit.

I have never bothered to go back and watch that opening monologue, which just does not seem like something I need in my life. The rest of MacFarlane’s hosting gig felt fairly paint-by-numbers as these things go. Perhaps a tad more off-color than usual, but nothing Chris Rock had not tried nearly a decade before.

My dad and his wife, not Oscars watchers, went upstairs and left Jen and I downstairs to enjoy the show on our own. They had kindly made us dinner, and we brought a bottle of wine. The dog hung out downstairs with us. I forget at what point I knocked over an entire glass of red wine on the beige couch. That was the day I learned the miracle of Scotchgard. No damage to the couch at all. This is not an ad, but seriously, that stuff works.

If it seems I am spending an unusual amount of time talking about everything but the awards, it is because this ceremony felt more rote than most. Ben Affleck’s Argo was the frontrunner, and his snub for Best Director made a Best Picture triumph all but inevitable. I felt good for the film’s producer Grant Heslov, who shared the top prize with best friend George Clooney, as well as Affleck. You might recognize him from supporting roles in True Lies and The Scorpion King. I know him from Dante’s Peak.

Apart from Argo, Life of Pi was the dominant force of the evening. Ang Lee won Best Director for the second time in his career – and for the second time watched another movie win Best Picture. You may recognize this bit of trivia from a Final Jeopardy question during Jeopardy’s “Greatest of All Time” tournament a couple months ago.

Daniel Day-Lewis won his third Best Actor Oscar for his Abraham Lincoln impression in Steven Spielberg’s historical drama. Jennifer Lawrence won Best Actress for Silver Linings Playbook. Christoph Waltz won his second Supporting Actor trophy for Django Unchained. And, Anne Hathaway joined Jennifer Hudson on the list of Supporting Actress winners who won for performing a single song quite well. All of these were foregone conclusions – there was some intrigue with Tommy Lee Jones in Supporting Actor, but that fizzled – and none was particularly inspired.

The DVR cut out in the middle of Day-Lewis’ acceptance speech. I did not get to see Best Picture announced live, which is a shame because I can only imagine what it felt like not to know Michelle Obama was going to show up. People criticized the moment as too political for the Oscars. I respectfully disagree. Unlike MacFarlane’s opening monologue, I did go back and watch Best Picture. I have seen it a number of times and was reminded of it recently while reading a biography of Jack Nicholson. A lovely moment when the highest office in the land celebrated the arts. Remember those days?

Quick notes: A lot of people think Roma’s Academy Awards run paved the way for Parasite to go all the way in 2020. I am of the opinion the Parasite road to victory begins here with Michael Haneke’s superlative Amour. The French-language, French-German-Austrian coproduction was nominated for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Foreign Language Film. It won only Foreign Language, but it proved that in the new, expanded Best Picture lineup, Academy members were ready and willing to look outside the U.S. for the best in cinema.

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Next time: We move to New York, and the Academy honors, for my money, the single greatest Best Picture winner of all time.

Friday, May 1, 2020

A Personal History of Oscar Watching: 2012

Jean Dujardin, accompanied by Uggie, picks up his Oscar for Best Actor at the 2012 Academy Awards ceremony.


The 84th Academy Awards

Ceremony date: February 26, 2012
Best Picture: The Artist
Best Director: Michel Hazanavicius for The Artist
Best Actor: Jean Dujardin for The Artist
Best Actress: Meryl Streep for The Iron Lady

Whose bright idea was it to make the menu themed? It was mine. It was all my idea, and I had no one to blame but myself when I was still making fried chicken as the lights went down inside the Dolby Theatre (née Kodak, and at the time the Hollywood and Highland Center). I was throwing my biggest and, to date, last Oscars party. Perhaps there will be another in the future, but I can promise you this: The menu will not be themed.

By late 2011, early 2012, I had made some good friends in the small newsroom at The Union. I was still only 23 and no one else on the editorial staff was really in my age bracket, but nobody made me feel too bad about it. I was another ink-stained wretch. I was in the club. That being the case, I thought I would invite them into my world for an evening.

Still without cable, I asked one of my co-workers and softball teammates if I could host the party at his house. He agreed. That set, I decided to attempt something I had seen mentioned online: a themed menu based around the nominees. Implicit in “seen mentioned online” is the absent phrase “by professional chefs and party planners.”

Based off the nine Best Picture nominees, here is the menu I, a single man in his early 20s, thought I could prepare for a group of a dozen or so people:

Moneyball – Ballpark peanuts, served as a preshow snack for the baseball movie
War Horse – Baked portobello mushrooms because a very quick Google search for “British appetizers” yielded this result to go with the World War I film
The Help – Fried chicken, a dish that is a major plot point in the film (yeah, remember that movie?)
The Descendants – Pineapple roasted pork loin (vaguely luau themed for the Hawaii-set film)
The Artist – Black-and-white cake (you see, because the movie is black and white)
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close New York cheesecake for the 9/11 weepie
Hugo and Midnight in Paris – A selection of French wines for the two Paris-set films
The Tree of Life – This is where I gave up. Really, what would you have me do for Terrence Malick’s existentialist masterpiece?

The morning of the show, the softball team had practice, and my friend agreed to let me skip practice and do the setup and organization while he was out. My friend Sean, whom you may recall from previous installments of this series, joined me to help with the prep. Sean is not really an Oscars guy, but he is a good friend, which is why he found himself making 30 pieces of fried chicken over a hot stove as the show approached.

I remember Van Helsing was on the television. Not exactly an Oscars mood setter, but you worked with what you got in the last days of cable television. I had the pork loin in the slow cooker. The mushrooms were in the oven. The rice was ready to go. I set out the peanuts and announced the predictions contest. All my friends were sports fans, so the prize was a movie pack that included a microwave popcorn, a pair of movie-sized candies (purchased from one of the world’s last Blockbusters), and a copy of Moneyball on DVD.

By the time the show started, the appetizers were served, the pork loin was ready, everything but the damn fried chicken. I was doing my best, but finally, we had to pause so I could finish and watch the show. That was when Sean – again not an Oscars guy but one hell of a mensch – jumped in and finished the cooking.

Billy Crystal jumped on stage, gave a fine monologue that I remember mostly for his James Earl Jones impersonation (“Baseball.”). Then Martin Scorsese’s Hugo and Michel Hazanavicius’ The Artist traded off winning all the awards. Hugo was that year’s crafts juggernaut, and I still remember being annoyed when it won Best Visual Effects over Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Little did I know at the time I would get to be annoyed by the Apes franchise unjustly losing this award twice more in the years to come.

The Artist was a strange frontrunner. I distinctly remember the outside world declaring it artsy Oscar bait. Following the victory by The King’s Speech the year before, I understand the inclination, but that truly could not have been further from the truth. No black-and-white film had won the top award since 1960. No (nearly) silent film had won since the first ceremony. No French-produced film had ever won. So, this black-and-white, silent French production was not your typical Academy movie, no matter how much the organization’s detractors wanted it to be.

I like The Artist. Stacked against The Tree of Life or even Moneyball, though, Hazanavicius’ silent homage to old Hollywood is a slight winner. Jean Dujardin is good in the lead, and Bérénice Bejo is tremendous in her meaty supporting role. Obviously, the world remembers Uggie. I saw it the same afternoon I saw Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a double feature that could give you whiplash. The comparison made The Artist a necessary salve. In a fairly heavy group of nominees – The Help and Midnight in Paris notwithstanding – maybe that is what the Academy was looking for, too.

Quick notes: I did not stop throwing Oscars parties for any reason. Circumstances simply have not leant themselves to the occasion. If I do again someday, you, dear reader, will be the first to know. Let it be known, however, that everyone had a good time that night. … Woody Allen won his fourth Academy Award, taking Best Original Screenplay for Midnight in Paris. It was also the fourth award he chose not to show up to receive. It will likely be the last award he gets from the Academy, as well, given the current circumstances.

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Next time: I’m late, I’m late for a very important date, and I spill the wine on my dad’s couch.