An Immodest Proposal
Making a quick perusal of the Academy's Oscar nomiees this morning http://www.oscars.org/awards/81academyawards/nominees.html , I cannot help but note that, once again, this American institution is in its usual delirious thrall to the what is quaintly called The Continent. Viz: Slumdog Millionaire's position as Best Picture nominee.
Others include The Duchess in the Achievement in art direction and Costume Design categories; The Betrayal (Nerakhoon) and Encounters at the End of the World under documentary; Slumdog again, for Editing, Original Song, Achievement in Sound Mixing (what?) and Adapted Screenplay; La Maison en Petits Cubes, Lavatory—Lovestory and Oktapodi for Animated Short Film; and Auf der Strecke (On the Line), Manon on the Asphalt, New Boy, The Pig and Spielzeugland (Toyland)—not an American entry among them—under Live Action Short Film.
The Academy's love affair with All Things European began fairly early in its history: under actors, see Emil Jannings (1928), George Arliss (1929) and Charles Laughton (1933). The situation normalized a bit after Oliver's win in 1948 for Hamlet, with Americans holding sway until the early 1960s. Victor McLaglen won in ’35 and Robert Donat in ‘39, but at least those were for performances in American movies. We have to wait awhile—until 1961—for another non-American actor (Maximilian Schell) to win, but by 1982 the Brits and their various progency begin to trickle in, eventually becoming a virtual cascade: Ben Kingsley, Daniel Day-Lewis (twice), Jeremy Irons, Anthony Hopkins, Geoffrey Rush and Russell Crowe, with Roberto Benigni thrown in for good (bad?) measure along the way.
Our native female actors do rather better, at least until Louise Rainer captures the crown, (twice in a row), followed by Vivien Leigh, Greer Garson, Ingrid Bergman, Leigh (again), Anna Magnani, Bergman (again), Simone Signoret, Sophia Loren (the first foreign language winner), Julie Andrews, Julie Christie, Maggie Smith (twice), Glenda Jackson (ditto), Jessica Tandy, Emma Thompson, Nicole Kidman (getting an award, solo, that should have been shared with Meryl Streep and Julianne Moore), Charlize Theron, Helen Mirren and Marion Cotillard. Clearly, we suffer in inferiority complex on the distaff side.
On the “supporting” front: Joseph Schildkraut, Donald Crisp, Charles Coburn, Barry Fitzgerald, Edmund Gwenn, George Sanders, Hugh Griffith, Peter Ustinov (twice), John Mills, John Gielgud, Haing S. Ngor, Michael Caine (twice), Sean Connery, Jim Broadbent, Javier Bardem, Katina Paxinou, Miyoshi Umeki, Wendy Hiller, Margaret Rutherford, Ingrid Bergamn (again!), Vanessa Redgrave, Maggie Smith (again), Peggy Ashcroft, Brenda Fricker, Juliette Binoche, Judi Dench, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Cate Blanchett.
Best Picture winners remained the provenance of Americans until Hamlet, but held on until 1963, when Tom Jones captured the brass ring—er, I mean statue. A couple of decades passed until the deluge: Chariots of Fire, Gandhi, The Last Emperor, Shakespeare in Love and The Lord of the Rings (Return of the King).
Now, I’m not suggesting that the actors cited above are necessarily unworthy; as an example, I consider Vanessa Redgrave the greatest actor in the English speaking world. Further, most of these winners were awarded for their performances in American movies. But, at the risk of being accused of xenophobia, may I make, as Uriah Heep might have said, an 'umble suggestion and request the Academy to limit the nomination of non-Americans to the Foreign Film category if their work was not done for American-made, or at least (as in the case, say, of Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia and The English Patient) American-produced, movies?
The British Academy often honors Americans as well as thespians of the Isles, but might it too benefit from being a bit more parochial? I doubt very much we’d see the French acknowledge non-Gallic performers or directors—but perhaps that’s a poor example, the French despising pretty much everything that doesn’t originate inside the borders.
Personally, I dislike awards of this sort on general principles. It seems to me perverse, if not downright sadistic, to pit artists against one another. (I would say this yearly obsession with being “The Best” is a peculiarly American one, if the rest of the world didn’t seem determined to follow our lead.) And in the case of the Oscars, there’s so much pressure and publicity attendant on the ceremonies that the old canard “It’s an honor just to be nominated” is pretty much a joke. No, the honor is in winning; otherwise, you’re just a sad, pathetic loser. Not only that, but a loser being photographed as you lose.
Nor am I arguing that the Oscars have any particular merit as a yardstick to artistic accomplishment. As Billy Wilder once quipped, “How can you take them seriously? After all, Louise Rainer won two!” The list of jaw-droppers and utter outrages is a long and glorious one, and you can add your own personal favorite ignominities to it. (Did they really give Best Picture to Rocky? It took how long for Martin Scorsese and Sean Penn to get theirs? Why did Jake Gyllenhaal rate a “supporting” nomination when he was in just as much of Brokeback Mountain as Heath Ledger? And will I be able to bear it if Mickey Rourke wins this year, or should I stick my head in the oven now and avoid the rush?)
I don’t know precisely why I let this idiot ceremony get under my skin. Actually, I do know: because the rest of the world cares so damn much about it. So why can’t the rest of the world give its actors their own awards? I’ve never been an America Firster, but just occasionally a line ought to be drawn somewhere.
Others include The Duchess in the Achievement in art direction and Costume Design categories; The Betrayal (Nerakhoon) and Encounters at the End of the World under documentary; Slumdog again, for Editing, Original Song, Achievement in Sound Mixing (what?) and Adapted Screenplay; La Maison en Petits Cubes, Lavatory—Lovestory and Oktapodi for Animated Short Film; and Auf der Strecke (On the Line), Manon on the Asphalt, New Boy, The Pig and Spielzeugland (Toyland)—not an American entry among them—under Live Action Short Film.
The Academy's love affair with All Things European began fairly early in its history: under actors, see Emil Jannings (1928), George Arliss (1929) and Charles Laughton (1933). The situation normalized a bit after Oliver's win in 1948 for Hamlet, with Americans holding sway until the early 1960s. Victor McLaglen won in ’35 and Robert Donat in ‘39, but at least those were for performances in American movies. We have to wait awhile—until 1961—for another non-American actor (Maximilian Schell) to win, but by 1982 the Brits and their various progency begin to trickle in, eventually becoming a virtual cascade: Ben Kingsley, Daniel Day-Lewis (twice), Jeremy Irons, Anthony Hopkins, Geoffrey Rush and Russell Crowe, with Roberto Benigni thrown in for good (bad?) measure along the way.
Our native female actors do rather better, at least until Louise Rainer captures the crown, (twice in a row), followed by Vivien Leigh, Greer Garson, Ingrid Bergman, Leigh (again), Anna Magnani, Bergman (again), Simone Signoret, Sophia Loren (the first foreign language winner), Julie Andrews, Julie Christie, Maggie Smith (twice), Glenda Jackson (ditto), Jessica Tandy, Emma Thompson, Nicole Kidman (getting an award, solo, that should have been shared with Meryl Streep and Julianne Moore), Charlize Theron, Helen Mirren and Marion Cotillard. Clearly, we suffer in inferiority complex on the distaff side.
On the “supporting” front: Joseph Schildkraut, Donald Crisp, Charles Coburn, Barry Fitzgerald, Edmund Gwenn, George Sanders, Hugh Griffith, Peter Ustinov (twice), John Mills, John Gielgud, Haing S. Ngor, Michael Caine (twice), Sean Connery, Jim Broadbent, Javier Bardem, Katina Paxinou, Miyoshi Umeki, Wendy Hiller, Margaret Rutherford, Ingrid Bergamn (again!), Vanessa Redgrave, Maggie Smith (again), Peggy Ashcroft, Brenda Fricker, Juliette Binoche, Judi Dench, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Cate Blanchett.
Best Picture winners remained the provenance of Americans until Hamlet, but held on until 1963, when Tom Jones captured the brass ring—er, I mean statue. A couple of decades passed until the deluge: Chariots of Fire, Gandhi, The Last Emperor, Shakespeare in Love and The Lord of the Rings (Return of the King).
Now, I’m not suggesting that the actors cited above are necessarily unworthy; as an example, I consider Vanessa Redgrave the greatest actor in the English speaking world. Further, most of these winners were awarded for their performances in American movies. But, at the risk of being accused of xenophobia, may I make, as Uriah Heep might have said, an 'umble suggestion and request the Academy to limit the nomination of non-Americans to the Foreign Film category if their work was not done for American-made, or at least (as in the case, say, of Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia and The English Patient) American-produced, movies?
The British Academy often honors Americans as well as thespians of the Isles, but might it too benefit from being a bit more parochial? I doubt very much we’d see the French acknowledge non-Gallic performers or directors—but perhaps that’s a poor example, the French despising pretty much everything that doesn’t originate inside the borders.
Personally, I dislike awards of this sort on general principles. It seems to me perverse, if not downright sadistic, to pit artists against one another. (I would say this yearly obsession with being “The Best” is a peculiarly American one, if the rest of the world didn’t seem determined to follow our lead.) And in the case of the Oscars, there’s so much pressure and publicity attendant on the ceremonies that the old canard “It’s an honor just to be nominated” is pretty much a joke. No, the honor is in winning; otherwise, you’re just a sad, pathetic loser. Not only that, but a loser being photographed as you lose.
Nor am I arguing that the Oscars have any particular merit as a yardstick to artistic accomplishment. As Billy Wilder once quipped, “How can you take them seriously? After all, Louise Rainer won two!” The list of jaw-droppers and utter outrages is a long and glorious one, and you can add your own personal favorite ignominities to it. (Did they really give Best Picture to Rocky? It took how long for Martin Scorsese and Sean Penn to get theirs? Why did Jake Gyllenhaal rate a “supporting” nomination when he was in just as much of Brokeback Mountain as Heath Ledger? And will I be able to bear it if Mickey Rourke wins this year, or should I stick my head in the oven now and avoid the rush?)
I don’t know precisely why I let this idiot ceremony get under my skin. Actually, I do know: because the rest of the world cares so damn much about it. So why can’t the rest of the world give its actors their own awards? I’ve never been an America Firster, but just occasionally a line ought to be drawn somewhere.
posted by Scott Ross at 10:15 AM
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