All the World’s a Screen: Guide to the 2020 Academy Award for Best Picture
You know that meme of Steve Buscemi in “30 Rock,” wearing a hoodie and brandishing a skateboard, awkwardly approaching a group of high schoolers and saying, “How do you do fellow kids?” Yeah. That’s how the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences looks with this year’s nominees for Best Picture.
In a column for The New Yorker, film critic Richard Brody reminds us that the Oscars are important because they are Hollywood’s perception of itself. When a film wins Best Picture, it’s not just anyone saying “This is the best movie of the year,” but rather Hollywood itself saying, “This is the best we have to offer.” And, since movies have been associated with Hollywood almost since their conception about 100 years ago, the Academy’s Best Picture pretends to crown the best that the entire industry had to offer that year.
While we ought to pay attention to what Hollywood thinks of itself, I believe that’s where our respect for the Academy Awards should end. For Best Picture is rarely what everyone (read: my Twitter feed) thinks is actually the best picture. How do you even determine that? It’s already dangerous to put qualifiers like “best” on art. All the Academy does is provide its opinion — just like you or I might do every year with our friends.
The Academy is a collective, and collective consensus is hard. In its endless pursuit to find a definition for “best,” the Academy consistently resorts to what their predecessors have awarded. Hence, the rise of “Oscar bait” — movies that are so obviously pandering to the Academy through characters, settings and tropes that they are actually bad instead of “best.” These are proof that the tropes the Academy likes don’t automatically make for a good picture. Ultimately, the Best Picture award says more about the Academy than it does about the state of the art.
Fueled by a growing anxiety to make the Academy Awards relevant to a declining viewership, recent efforts to define “best” have led the Academy to nominate popular movies — deeming box office numbers signs of quality. Blockbusters like “Get Out” and “Black Panther” were nominated in previous years; in these cases, popularity did mean a general consensus of quality. But, then again, “Bohemian Rhapsody” was likely nominated on the basis of profit too.
“Moonlight” unexpectedly took Best Picture in 2017, paving the way for indie and foreign darlings “Lady Bird,” “Call Me by Your Name,” “Roma” and “The Favourite” to be nominated in subsequent years. Some attribute this trend to the changing demographics of the Academy as older, more traditionalist members retire or pass away and a younger, more diverse class is gradually ushered in. We’ve seen the tension between the old and new members move back and forth from awarding “Moonlight” to crowning “Green Book” last year. One was a bold, complex story by and about a marginalized group, the other was a simplistic, traditional comedy presuming to have the key to solving racism. One win was unprecedented, the other was tragically expected.
This year’s nominees come from an Academy so clearly frustrated with itself and the changing industry. Different movies are made by different kinds of people, yet the Academy (like Buscemi in “30 Rock”) is changing into some new clothes but cannot escape its old, dying body.
Despite a 25% increase in female members from 2015 to 2019, 68% of Academy voters are male. Of course, this imbalance is likely to blame for the lack of female directors nominated for Best Director, but it also means that movies like “1917” and “Ford v. Ferrari” are in the running for Best Picture. “1917” was a lock from the moment Sam Mendes and Roger Deakins struck hands to do a war picture (that image gives me goosebumps, so I don’t blame the Academy men). James Mangold’s “Ford v. Ferrari” is a traditional racing, buddy romp with a dollop of American heart (which is extremely fun when it’s handled this well), but it sort of came and went. To see it in the category was a surprise because of its lukewarm reception, but an obvious choice considering it’s still a genre movie with two big-name actors going toe-to-toe and talking about 1960s Ford carburetors and whatnot. While the film is aware of its genre and actually handles the masculinity of it all in an original way, its skeleton is that of an Old Hollywood flick, and thus catnip for at least 68% of AMPAS.
Like “1917” and “Ford vs. Ferrari,” “Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood” and “The Irishman” certainly have a veneer of freshness but are ultimately exactly what the Academy looks for: Two confirmed masters of the art in career-culminating films. What’s more Tarantino than a movie about the movies? What’s more Scorsese than an epic three-hour reflection on gangster guilt?
“Little Women” and “Marriage Story” are the opposite: Old stories revamped by new voices. While Greta Gerwig was nominated for “Lady Bird,” she was completely shut out for her exceptional work directing “Little Women.” Noah Baumbach has consistently been overlooked by the Oscars despite his long, consistent career. It’s telling then that Baumbach and Gerwig are recognized this year for two traditional genres: the divorce movie and the adaptation. Their hope for recognition was to create something original under the guise of something classic: as Justin Chang of the Los Angeles Times calls the latter, “genuinely radical with a classical veneer.”
“Jojo Rabbit,” Taika Waititi’s Third Reich satire, has come under criticism for being too shallow — it does not take the risks it is expected to. This critique, in my opinion, is vindicated by one particular moment in “Jojo Rabbit” where the titular character kicks an imaginary Hitler in the balls. It’s so hilarious and it’s almost manipulative: There can be no easier gag than the Fuhrer crippling before a 10 year old. Waititi’s film presents itself as bold and risky, but it lacks the sophistication he promises in the beginning and ultimately falls into cheap slapstick humor. You can see why the Academy — trying to be cool — digs “Jojo Rabbit,” a film, again, with the face of freshness, but depth that reaches the Oscar’s ankles.
“Joker” and “Parasite” are the two opposite poles in the Best Picture race. The former is a peculiar pastiche of multiple Scorsese films and comic book storylines, while “Parasite” is one of the most original films of the year. The reason “Parasite” seems to be more of a favorite than the Scorsese and Tarantino films is because of its unexpected triumph in the U.S. From an industry where all we get is more of the same (“You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all”), “Parasite” has rocked the world with its real originality and relevance. Nominating box-office hit “Joker” gives the Academy some of the relevance it craves, but, again, the nominee has the semblance of being bold and new without the depth to back it up. “Joker” is so self-centered while “Parasite” is so self-aware that it straight up mocks how viewers will react to its story — “Wow … this is so metaphorical,” so aptly put by Kim Ki-woo (Choi Woo Shik) in Parasite.
Like “Green Book” last year, the Academy has nominated films that presume to be significant but are really, at a skeletal level, stories that the Academy has traditionally fawned over. Thankfully, unlike last year, no nominee is as divisive as “Green Book,” except perhaps “Joker.” The Oscars have once again reverted to their historical tastes and where previous years have nominated several indie contenders, most of these nominees are big studio films. If you want something to shake up the establishment like “Moonlight” did, “Parasite” is your only hope.
Arguments about quality are almost irrelevant when it comes to the Oscars, for the awards are ultimately very political. When we predict who will win, it’s sadly almost never who we want to win. The Academy Awards say more about the Academy than about the films nominated and their audience. If the movie you love does not win, that’s not to say it’s bad (and vice-versa).
What value the Oscars do have is that they can ignite important conversations about what a movie actually has to say and why Hollywood thinks this is the best it has to offer. So, regardless of the winner, once the Best Picture is announced, be wary and look closely: You may find that other pictures, though not the “best,” have more to say.
Isa Uggetti is a junior writing about film. His column, “All the World’s a Screen,” runs every other Monday.