04.14.2026 OSCAR, OSCAR, OSCAR
Are the Oscars relevant? Most of the YouTube content leading up to this year's event posed that question (and YouTube is mostly what I watch these days). The consensus is that they are not.
The common examples are how a film like Paul Haggis' execrable Crash could ever win Best Picture, and that Raging Bull could lose out to Ordinary People. Sometimes it's easy for me to counter argue: Though I'm in the minority, I always thought Raging Bull was overrated, and that Ordinary People, despite its movie-of-the-week trappings, was a far more satisfying movie.
Likewise, the complaint that Saving Private Ryan lost out to Shakespeare in Love. After seeing Private Ryan I felt something was lacking, and while I have no desire to revisit Shakespeare in Love, I thought it was more successful in realizing its own ambitions. Yes, Weinstein lobbied hard for it, but I don't believe that's 100% why it won.
Then there's the "prestige" or "mature" movie the Academy Awards loves to reward above the more popular (often Spielberg) titles: Gandhi over E.T., Chariots of Fire over Raiders, Cuckoo's Nest over Jaws, Annie Hall over Star Wars. And I get it, part of the reason for the whole process is to bring attention and revenue to movies that may be deserving but haven't earned as much at the box office.
When I was in film school in New York I used to host annual pizza watch parties with a few classmates. This was the industry we aspired to, and we were studying "cinema," so interest in the ordeal was inherent. At the time I even watched many of the nominated films upon release in NYC theaters (though I managed to avoid a few bloated epics like Out of Africa and The English Patient -- but did suffer through Amadeus). But then, I used to go to a lot more movies.
My most memorable viewing of the ceremony, fittingly enough, came right after I moved to L.A. (and the big Northridge quake), in 1994. At a small gathering at the home of Pumpkinhead screenwriter and NYU alum Mark Carducci, surprise guest Forry Ackerman arrived shortly before the telecast started. I may not ever be nominated, but sitting in the same room as Uncle Forry just watching the show, well, this was the Big Time! (Schindler's List won that year.)
Since then, my interest in the Oscar race has continued to diminish. I used to at least try to watch the nominated films, expecting to discover some gems I would otherwise have missed. But last year, after sitting through The Brutalist, I finally concluded that pretension to greatness does not equal greatness, and the time I have left on earth is too valuable.
To be sure, I've experienced triumphant moments in recent years, like cheering The Shape of Water's Best Picture win, and Randy Newman finally getting the statuette after 15 times at bat. Skin in the game! Even this year, it was great to cheer Michael B. Jordan's win, and satisfying to see Amy Madigan win (despite my issues with Weapons), partly because I always liked Ed Harris, so I could be happy for both of them.
But despite whatever diversions the show might provide, I'm left with so much that borders on disgust. I no longer recognize most of the celebs on the red carpet, and I don't care to. Doubling the number of Best Picture nominees -- to pander to those who just might tune in if a Marvel movie were included -- is pathetic. And the decision to have past winners address current nominees from the stage -- which thankfully has been done away with -- defined "cringe." No one looked comfortable.
They've also finally done away with the infuriating practice of focusing on a live musical performance during the "In Memoriam" segment. The point of the clip montage is to be reminded of those who died in the year since the last show (and often to learn of deaths I wasn't aware of), not to keep cutting away to a B-list ballad singer blocking the screen. It's not the goddamn Grammys. If I were the family of some sound editor or executive whose brief moment in the segment was lost in one of those cutaways, I'd be mighty pissed. So at least this year we were allowed to view the segment, distraction free, as it used to be, and always should have been.
The "In Memoriam" segment continues, however, to draw trivial attention: Why no mention of Gene Hackman? He was in last year's. Why no James Van Der Beek? He's from TV you fool, they'll have him on the Emmys. Why no Brigitte Bardot? Cancelled. The annual outcry over perceived slights has prompted the Academy to refer viewers to their website in a kind of disclaimer, which is a bit of a shame since raging over the omissions has also become tradition.
This year, special tributes were held for the Reiners, Diane Keaton and Robert Redford. It was nice to see Billy Crystal up there again -- would it kill the Academy to bring him back to host? Is he too old or irrelevant or what? (I never thought I'd miss him.) The choice for Diane Keaton's tribute was, oddly, Rachel McAdams (co-star of one of Keaton's worst films, The Family Stone). Was Warren Beatty still in hiding after the La La Land debacle? Did they ask Pacino? They probably didn't reach out to Woody Allen, but if he had shown up for it, the response to his attendance would've been fascinating. And though Barbra Streisand saluted Redford, it should've been Jane Fonda, as she co-starred with him in several more movies. I guess Streisand carries more star power but it would've been a little more comforting, for various reasons, to see Hanoi Jane up there instead.
I never thought I'd say this, but I also miss the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian and Lifetime Achievement Award moments. Now they're pre-taped, but trotting out some octogenarian wheelchair-bound legend for a well-deserved Last Hurrah was "special." And when will anyone ever utter the name "Jean Hersholt" again on a global telecast?
And about the speeches...
As a viewer, true, it's not too engaging to see an Oscar winner thank a laundry list of names I don't recognize, and it makes an already overlong show even longer. I understand why they have time limits. However, this is an awards ceremony as well as a TV show, and the winners' moment in the spotlight -- no matter which category they've won for -- should be a heightened, shared, vicarious experience. Instead, it's "Beat the Clock."
I feel nervous for every winner before their speech even starts, hoping for their sake they don't get played off. Those who win in groups, usually for technical, animation or documentary, are sometimes savvy enough to plan and divide their time so they can all get at least one word of thanks in. (My heroes are the ones who shout down the music.) This year, famously, the show decided to cut off one of the Best Song winners, a young Korean man who had won for "K-Pop Demon Hunters." They lowered the mic on him. Bastards! Maybe if the producers had trimmed some of the painfully unfunny scripted banter their presenters have to deliver, there'd be just a few more precious seconds to allow what the show is supposed to be about.
Supposedly there will be more breathing room when the show moves to YouTube in 2029. A weird coda was tacked on to this year's show, where it was comically hinted that "MrBeast" would host future shows. Despite watching a lot of YouTube, I had no idea who that was, and blissful in my ignorance.
So all this said: Are the Oscars relevant? They never were. Hitchcock, Kubrick, Altman, Lumet and Welles never won Best Director Oscars competitively. The very concept of having films and artists compete is ridiculous, it's all subject to opinions, politics and trends at any given time (apples vs. oranges...neck tie vs bow tie? either way, it's a tie!).
To the extent that Hollywood's hype machine can continue to trade off, with every last gasp, on its former glory, the Academy Awards will suffer diminishing returns. Glamour and trivia for those who still care. As the number of distractions competing for my time continues to grow, the Oscars will descend ever lower, one rung at a time, and it's just as well. There's no shortage of fun, stimulating and rewarding things more worthy of my attention.
