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Sweet and Lowdown
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Two people. That was the total attendance of a recent weekday matinee of Woody Allen's comedy Sweet and Lowdown. It was a quiet follow-up to the Feb. 15 Oscar nominations, including well-deserved nods for Sweet and Lowdown's Sean Penn (best actor) and Samantha Morton (best supporting actress).
I didn't watch the 8:30 a.m. nominations telecast by Academy President Robert Rehme and two-time best actor winner Dustin Hoffman. Granted, it helps being three-hours behind Los Angeles, but I was writing a movie review at the time. Besides, I'd rather spend the time catching up with the Oscar movies themselves.
It's the way people are meant to meet Oscar contenders: Watching the nominated films at a local movie theater. Sharing the small auditorium with a lone moviegoer, it felt good to get away from the Oscar buzz. I wasn't interested in Morton's odds for winning a best supporting actress statue. I didn't want to hear about what she planned to wear to the ceremonies on March 26. Sitting in the darkness on my private aisle, I watched Penn and Morton work their movie magic as 1930's guitarist Emmet Ray and his mute girlfriend Hattie.
"You don't have to be bright," Emmet tells Hattie. "Music is for everybody, the smart and the dumb. You're mute, but not dumb."
Oscar office pools wouldn't be as fun if there weren't plenty of surprises, both good and bad.
Meryl Streep's 12th nomination, for her performance as Music of the Heart's inspirational school teacher Roberta Guaspari, ties Streep with Katharine Hepburn for the most acting noms ever. The problem is that Streep had no business being nominated for this pedestrian portrait in a sappy melodrama.
I'll admit that The Cider House Rules is an entertaining tearjerker, although its seven Oscar nominations is downright puzzling. But my biggest shock came when I heard that 11-year-old Haley Joel Osment became the third-youngest supporting actor nominee for his role in the box-office smash The Sixth Sense. Even the Oscars' well-known preference for popular movies should have a limit.
You can't predict what the 6,000 voting members of the Academy will do. The fact that special voting groups within the Academy choose the nominees doesn't make a movie critic's guesswork any easier. Just take another look at my 1999 Top Ten List: Election, The Blair Witch Project and Eyes Wide Shut were shut out by Academy voters. 1999 turned out to be a good year for challenging Hollywood movies. The problem is that most of these movies -- Fight Club, Summer of Sam and Three Kings -- were ignored by the Academy. Granted, Spike Jonze (best director), Catherine Keener (best supporting actress) and Charlie Kaufman (best original screenplay) received nods for Being John Malkovich. My biggest problem is trying to figure out what Academy voters were thinking by ignoring Mike Leigh's Gilbert & Sullivan comic-drama Topsy-Turvy. Leigh's film -- more than The Sixth Sense, The Cider House Rules and The Green Mile combined -- deserves a shot at a Best Picture award.
Long-time Oscar watchers know the Academy Awards is more of a moviemade popularity contest than an accurate barometer of the year's best films. Such industry logic helps explain my favorite oxymoron: the expected Oscar surprise. Really, I'm no longer disappointed when audience favorites like The Sixth Sense or The Green Mile walk away with a slew of nominations. I've seen it happen too many times before: Dances with Wolves, Forrest Gump and Titanic. I've become numb to the whole Oscar madness. If you look beyond the hype and industry buzz, the Oscars are no more substantial than some TV zillionaire quiz show. Think about it: If the Oscars were really about recognizing the year's best movie, nobody would have a chance against American Beauty.
Oscar time is Hollywood politics at its most aggressive. An endless barrage of trade ads hawk the various Oscar contenders. Targeted pleas to Academy voters reach a fevered pitch. Such campaigns can become costly. Then again, Oscar-winning films often receive a sizable box-office boost. At least that's the rationale. Another argument is that a film needs to make money in order to become an Oscar contender.
You don't have to live in Los Angeles to appreciate the rematch between DreamWorks Pictures and Miramax Films. This is showbiz politics at its most vicious. Last year, DreamWorks' World War II epic Saving Private Ryan was considered a sure thing for Best Picture until Miramax's million-dollar Oscar campaign grabbed the Oscar for its period comedy Shakespeare in Love.
Now, DreamWorks and Miramax return to the wrestling mat for another high-profile tussle. American Beauty might be the critical favorite, but The Cider House Rules is the type of feel-good movie Academy voters tend to love. More importantly, The Cider House Rules is just beginning to find its audience. The trend looks to be in favor of Cider House. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Maybe we should save this speculation for next week's Hollywood Reporter.
A lot will happen between now and Billy Crystal's hosting duties at Los Angeles' Shrine Auditorium on March 26. I personally plan to use the time to reacquaint myself with the various Oscar nominees. It pays to know the players well before filling out that Oscar sheet. Not that I've ever fared well in office pools before. It's hard for a critic to write anything down but his personal favorites. I couldn't think like an Academy Award voter even if I tried. At least I have five weeks to rip up my Oscar pool ballot and try again. ©
