Notes from a Reformed Oscar Obsessive
originally published on march 9th 2023 in ragtag cinema’s monthly newsletter
Growing up, my family always watched the Oscars. We’d order Chinese food, and I’d get to stay up late (even on a school night). With each passing year, I’d grow a little older and see a few more of the films nominated. We weren’t sports people so this was our Super Bowl—an event not to be missed and talked about incessantly the days after. To a child with a burgeoning interest in cinema, a metric of quality like the Academy Awards carried a lot of weight. Watching Martin Scorsese win for Best Director for The Departed at 12 years-old gave me context for who he was. “Huh,” thought my pre-teen self, “I should watch his movies now.”
I started posting on the IMDb Oscar Buzz message board (RIP) where people obsessively predicted the winners, tracked precursor awards, and created their own personal Oscar line-ups. I made internet friends—many of whom I still keep in touch with and who now professionally write about both film and the Oscars. Said internet friends introduced me to films and filmmakers both accepted and shunned by Oscar sensibilities. Soon, I too was meticulously cataloging the films I watched and compiling breakdowns of my own personal nominees. For years, these patterns of thought consumed me. Like the stars and planets, my life revolved around movies, and the Oscars were the Sun.
But I grew up, and slowly the Oscars’ light began to dim. My perspective morphed into something knowing and cynical. Systemic failures like the brutal lack of diversity and rampant misogyny felt suffocating. Not to mention the Oscars’ notorious tendency to get it wrong.
This thing I loved hated people like me; an awakening akin to breaking up with your first love.
The lists went away. I stopped posting on the message boards. No more staying up late on Oscar Sunday eating Chinese food. I had outgrown them. I knew better.
My old obsession gave way to a sense of superiority surrounding film and awards culture. I never hesitated to remind others how little the Academy Awards mattered and how silly people were for investing themselves so fully in such a corrupt, politically skewed organization. My encyclopedic knowledge of past winners and nominees still came in handy, though, and I took delight in rattling off prolific filmmakers who never got their Oscar due or who won for sub-par work given their stellar filmography. Martin Scorsese may have won Best Director for The Departed, but I liked After Hours more, and I’ll have you know it didn’t receive a single nomination.
I was really fun at parties.
The Oscars were still a source of entertainment albeit one with minimal significance. Glimmers of excitement occasionally shone through. Watching live when La La Land was mistakenly announced as the Best Picture winner over Moonlight was electric, as was Olivia Coleman’s surprise win for Best Actress. Alas, these moments were bookended by bad wins which only vindicated my sour outlook.
But in February 2020, I went to an Oscar watch party in Kansas City at the Screenland Armour. The nominees had sparked controversy given the wealth of diversity in 2019’s films which were largely shut out; classic Academy move. A drunk woman sitting a few rows in front of me made a point of standing up and screaming “F*** you!’ every time Joker won something.
Then Parasite won an Oscar and people lost their minds. Everyone cheered. Some dude ran a lap around the theater and waved a flag. People took shots. With each ensuing win, the audience’s zeal never waned. Then it won Best Picture, and I will never forget the energy in that room. Was I back at my Super Bowl?
As I’m writing this, it’s February 12th. I’m in New Orleans, and it’s Sunday—Super Bowl Sunday to be precise. I’ve never paid much attention to sports; watching the Super Bowl has often been a passive year-to-year experience. But this year, one of my dear friends texted me, “I know this is corny, but when you visit, can we watch the Super Bowl?” She grew up in Kansas City and has been feeling nostalgic lately. She and I met in Kansas City too. So today, I care about the Super Bowl. I’ve got a reason to root for someone.
Humans are creatures of overcorrection. From one extreme to the next, the pendulum swings with each new piece of information. But there’s this concept called negative capability; the ability to hold up two contradictory ideas as both true. The Oscars don’t matter, but somewhere there’s a 12-year-old girl in the Midwest who’s learning about Martin Scorsese because he just won Best Director. The Oscars don’t matter, but diversity matters, and awarding a film made by Black or Asian creators impacts the industry. When Parasite, a film dissecting class inequity, wins Best Picture, everyone suddenly cares about wealth disparity. Just take a look at all the films about rich people being bad released since.
The Oscars don’t matter, but isn’t it nice when the thing you care about gets recognized on a global stage?
On March 12 at 7pm, the Oscars will be presented at the Dolby Theatre in Los Angeles. Ragtag Cinema may or may not be hosting a watch party. Given this year’s slate of nominees, I’ve got someone to root for. It’s corny, but I’ll be there—sans Chinese food.