Worst Oscars Ever? or, why the hell not, “Jai Ho!”

To be fair I didn’t get to watch all of them.

I spent last night as I had spent the two nights previous: on set as a script supervisor, using my beloved iPhone in creative fashion while the lighting department stared at me with relative disgust.

The film was a project from my class, another kid’s thesis, that was shooting in the producer’s uncles’ house, both of whom were gay clockmakers.

We heard this from the producer but we probably could have figured it out from the profundity of clocks and musical theatre memorabilia and also, memorably, a book entitled: “Welcome to the Gayborhood”.

I shit not.

The Oscars were on in the background. I admit liking Hugh Jackman, the host, a guy who was quickly typecast by Hollywood but who really has many talents. Still, none of the people I would have chosen won.

In recent years, I’d do a long Oscar prognostication but this year felt uninspired and I figure none of my choices would matter.

Anyway, it was a night of extreme disappointments.

“Waltz With Bashir”, one of the most interesting films I’ve ever seen, lost to a film I’d never heard of.

“Milk”, a mediocre screenplay done well by a great director, picked up an award.

Anne Hathaway lost to some naked chick.

I even bothered to see the short films this year and they still picked the worst one of those.

And, jai ho, Slumdog won virtually everything it was possible for it to win.

By the way, I’ve decided I should just start saying “Jai ho” at random occasions. The song is fucking stuck in my head along with that horrific dance sequence and the only way I can think to exorcise that is to say “jai ho” as much as possible.

So, jai ho.

Still, the question is, is this the worst Oscars ever?

I’m unsure. I don’t know if I have the proper frame of reference. Perhaps I could amend that–this is the worst Oscars I’ve ever seen.

The only competition I could think of being 2005 for Crash, but that was a relatively weak year for movies with a good win for Philip Seymour Hoffman even if Elle Woods from “Legally Blonde 2: Red, White and Blonde” also won an award that year.

No, this year, willfully bad choices were made of the nominees–the exclusions of “Gomorrah”, “Gran Torino”, “Rachel Getting Married” and “Wendy and Lucy” come to mind–followed by willfully bad choices for winners–Dustin Lance Black, Sean Penn, anything for Slumdog, again some naked chick.

What we got was a sort of shit-sandwich then of terrible choices upon terrible decisions, filled in by Jackman and the occasional interesting commercial.

What is there left to say, but:

Jai Ho.

P.S.- If you’re interested post your thoughts here on whacha thought, or whether you know a worse year for Oscars.

Also, I’m trying to see “They Might Be Giants” performing my favorite album of theirs–Flood–at Le Poisson Rouge on Friday. If anyone’s down for some nerd-rock, lemme know.

Denby Took The Words Out of My Mouth

And the list goes on of people agreeing with me to prove I’m not crazy…

Denby’s a bit of a fart, but he was an early supporter of Apatow in the days you wouldn’t expect him to be which him gives him some street cred in my perspective.

Here he talks about Slumdog Millionaire as a “high-production-value commercial for poverty” and The Reader as essentially a 15 year-old getting it on with a hot Nazi for a while followed by about an hour and a half of boredom, as well as the general Shitocracy that is the Oscars this year.

I agree with everything he says except for one thing- I don’t think 2008 was a bad year for movies; I think 2008 was a bad year for Oscar movies.

But still, well done and a kick in the pants, which I admire.

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2009/02/09/090209crci_cinema_denby?yrail

Slumdogs don’t like being called “slumdogs” apparently.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/asia/article5597745.ece

An article on protests of Slumdog Millionaire.

My favorite phrase from the article- a description of the film as “poverty porn”.

Why Slumdog Millionaire Sucks My Anus

It was a dark and cold depressive wintry night.

I lay in my bed, unmade, uncomfortable.

My thoughts spun and I looked at the world and thought about the state of things.

Soon, we would have a new president.

This war in Gaza might even be ending sometime soon too, to the relief of all.

Tomorrow, it will be warmer.

Also it will be Friday.

All pleasant thoughts.

Then, reality intruded.

A dark cloud.

I looked at my life and I realized-

Slumdog Millionaire is probably going to win the Oscars.

Eek-

Is the word that comes closest to my mind.

Slumdog Millionaire, for those who haven’t seen in it, is an inspiring story of torture, prostitution, violent gang murders, forced marriage and the Indian version of “Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?”.

It’s also a load of shit.

Unlike the film Pan’s Labyrinth, another visually-interesting fairy-tale epic, Slumdog offers us no real characters nor emotions. That film saw a young girl experience adolescence and the fear of growing up, simultaneous to her questioning whether there is good in the world, arresting experiences anyone could deal with. In this film, we are offered parodies of emotions. Jamal is good because he embraces true love, that ever incorruptable pay-off of a maxim. Jamal’s brother is bad because he is money-minded and pragmatic and must die for his acceptance of the real world. The thugs are rapists and torturers who kill and exploit coldly, happily, monsters without motivation. Even our high-class game show host is an enemy whose moment of a hissy fit seems disingenuous to say the least.

Which is what could be said of the whole film. What is this film trying to say? When Dickens wrote Oliver Twist, the tale of another young orphan making his way through dregs to riches, he was talking about the immutibility of class and what people do to survive in such a world. Oliver never goes from low-class to high-class; he is born high-class, is mistaken in a comedy of errors and returns. Fagin and The Artful Dodger and poor Nancy must contend with their lives. For them, there is no escape. Yet all this film is, is escapism without message. It’s petty moralism without motivation. Even Disney had motivation.

Others have defended this film as escapist fare. This is what Bollywood is, I’ve heard said. Well, I’m not an expert on Bollywood. But I do know a thing or two about American escapist fare and I can tell you this: the good ones are dark. It’s A Wonderful Life? Better be grateful for your crappy job and the po-dunk town you’ll never leave. Singin’ in the Rain? The only way a star is made is to destroy another one. The Sound of Music? What do you think happened to the people who didn’t get away from the Nazis?

What this film was does have are stylistic flourishes in abundance and colonial moralism. Danny Boyle is a stylistic and often very interesting directory. However, he brings a colonialist’s eye to India, oversimpliying life in order to show some interesting colors and shots. Simon Beaufoy, the screenwriter is equally at fault for constructing a story with simple tropes: poor kids=sad, Love=good, love+courage=miracles. If I wanted this kind of moralistic simplicity I’d go get drunk and watch a Tyler Perry movie.

It’s as I’ve said: Film is a powerful medium. Sometimes, it’s very hard to resist feeling emotions that a director wants you to feel. After all, they have so much to work with, from close-ups of teary eyes to desperate screams to wailing violin music soaring into ecstacy when the hero gets the girl. However, at the end of it all, you have to ask yourself, was that honest what I felt? Because if you felt something not because you believed in the characters or the story, but just because of the tricks a director can play on you, then it’s not a good movie. I can go see Marley and Me tomorrow and think, “Wow, that’s a cute dog” or “Marley, stay away from that car!”. However, if I get out of the film and realize, wait a second, I hate dogs, then the movie sucks because its failed in some way to give me a true emotional experience; to change me.

So Academy, you have a choice. You can give the award to a hollow, empty film that makes people feel good about complicated issues by simplifying them and then patting them on the back, like you did with Crash.

Or you can give the award to Milk, a worthy if unspectacular film with excellent politics.

You could give the award to Gran Torino, a fun film filled with Clint Eastwood’s death growls.

You could give the award to Happy-Go-Lucky or WALL-E or Rachel Getting Married or any of number of worthy Oscar contenders, films all that made a difference and changed the people who saw them.

But knowing you, the urge to self-congratulate is too great.