We can well conjecture on those who will win the highest honors at the Oscars, one certainty remains: the televised ceremony on Sunday evening will take a nosedive, even more than in 2021. Question of mouth of atmosphere. The pandemic has further messed up the cultural landscape of the past year. The war in Ukraine does little to encourage people to invite themselves to the ball of the rich and famous. If the Les Olivier gala looked sad last Sunday, the Oscars, on their Hollywood planet, will fall from higher. Sometimes for the same reasons, on a large scale. Add the proliferation of broadcasting platforms, which have scattered the public. People have missed too many productions, especially in long closed or deserted venues, and feel out of it.
So much so that, even in the United States, stardom and its dream machine are losing feathers and glitter. Who still believes in Santa Claus and star fairies in designer dresses? The stars seem out of place in a world in danger. In fact, their chic homes on the California hills have sometimes burned in fires caused by climate change. A mythology collapses.
The film community and moviegoers remain loyal to the post. But this long unmissable gala of the seventh art misleads, in the eyes of many, its relevance. Bad news for the American hegemony, also for the cinema.
Oscar galas have their irritating and rowdy sides. They have been slapped on the knuckles for their under-representation of female filmmakers and ethnic minorities. But their locomotive pulls the train of an art that needs light to arouse desire in the viewer. We are witnessing a deeper debacle than just at the Dolby Theater.
Last year, the ceremony had recorded its worst ratings: 9.85 million American spectators, a drop of 58.3% compared to 2020, an edition already bare. The Academy is desperate. So much so that one of the three hosts at this year’s gala, Amy Schumer, revealed that the team had toyed with the idea (thankfully discarded) of asking Ukraine’s president for his testimony via video or satellite. Images of war steal the show from entertainment and art. Mixing their noise with the show to attract crowds is an indecent proposition that sheds light on the ambient disarray.
Several nominated films have had little success, beyond their undeniable qualities. Over the latest vintages, the broader inclusion of women, minorities and foreign filmmakers offers an opening door to expand. This year, Jane Campion, with The Power of the Dog, and Ryusuke Hamaguchi, with Drive My Car, as shown by. But Americans, lulled into cultural chauvinism, prefer their flagship productions to slow, sophisticated works. Oscar’s rain on Parasite, by Bong Joon-ho, dedicated a South Korean film in 2020, it is true. Still, this black comedy, coupled with a very well-woven thriller, was able to seduce the United States better than less rhythmic works.
Voting members may grant their major statuettes to The Power of the Dog, for its finesse and beauty — by the way, this high-flying Netflix production dominates the race — especially appreciated by moviegoers.
The top Oscar contenders aren’t the most commercial. And the sublime Drive My Car Japanese also turned out to be too subtle to draw many people into its orbit among our neighbours. Even the remake of West Side Story, of the famous child of the country Steven Spielberg, acclaimed by the critics, did poorly in the room. We wish many victories to their master builders, but will the works now have as much resonance?
For the Best Picture Oscar, some are counting on CODAby Sian Heder, awarded elsewhere, American adaptation of The Aries family, a mixture of emotion, comedy and song that had been able to please. Others bet on the formidable Dunes by Denis Villeneuve, called to collect many technical prizes instead. Or on Belfast, by Kenneth Branagh, woven from memories of childhood during the war in Ireland. Still, the common man, stunned among other things by the pandemic episode, doesn’t care a bit.
Basically, the Oscar gala seems more and more undermined by its double vocation: to attract both moviegoers – who are yawned by the ceremony – and the general public – unfamiliar with the films in the running and less thirsty for glamour than yesterday. Perhaps the Academy should woo film lovers more, refine its formula, remove some glitter and advise the winners to talk about their art instead. But she persists in groping for her mirror of yesteryear in a completely transformed world.