Illustration by Michael DiMilo
By Geoff Carter
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In sports, winners and losers are determined by how many points they score. Some measure success by the size of a bank account or fame, but there are other more subtle metrics.
When I taught English, it was a requirement of the job to develop a rubric, a series of standards for grading. For instance, an essay is typically graded on grammar, development, punctuation, tone, voice, and other standards. My class rubric would itemize what level of competence deserved which grade—how many run-ons would drop you a grade or two. Some items on the rubric, like tone and voice, were necessarily subjective, but a good rubric gave students (and parents) a solid benchmark for understanding grading.
So. What sort of rubric does the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences use to decide excellence in film acting, directing, editing, screenwriting, production design, and many other categories? How can one compare Conclave to Wicked to Emilia Perez? Who can say which is the better movie? By which criteria? How can you compare Felicity Jones’ performance in The Brutalist to Demi Moore’s in The Substance? And on and on.
To clump films of every genre, style, sensibility, and tone into one category seems absurd. Why is Wicked being judged according to the same rubric as The Brutalist? Both are great films, but—like Barbie and Oppenheimer last year—this is apples and oranges.
At least the Golden Globes break best films into the categories of “Musical or Comedy” or “Drama”. This would at least separate Wicked and The Brutalist, but not Conclave and I’m Still Here. The Academy Awards does have a Foreign Language Film category but confuses the matter by placing some films, Emilia Perez and I’m Still Here, in both categories. Animated features and feature-length documentaries are also separate categories, as are short films (in three separate subcategories).
Over the last few years, independent films have been nominated more and more often—in fact, they are close to dominating the competition. This year, films like Sing Sing, Nickel Boys, and Emilia Perez are in the same line-up as studio megahits like Wicked, although the lines between independents and studio pictures is becoming increasingly blurred—but the indies do have their own award show, too.
In the forties and fifties, there used to be separate cinematography awards for black and white and color films—which actually (as in the case of Schindler’s List, Roma, Mank, or El Conde) would still be a good idea.
I guess all this begs the question of why judge films according to a difficult and confounding rubric—if one exists all or varies greatly from person to person. For some, the rubric might be as simple as Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s definition of obscenity, “I know it when I see it.” I guess that’s how great movies are like pornography.
How would a voter go about construction a rubric for best actor or actress? I suppose they must embody a character well enough to convince an audience they are that person. All of our candidates fit that bill (although it may be argued that some characters are less defined than others—which brings us to the screenwriting. Are the characters written effectively and convincingly? Is the story plausible? Even sci-fi fantasies like Dune, Part II must have convincing and likeable characters.
Of course, most actors are pretty or ruggedly handsome—which usually equates to a bigger box office. (Just ask Elisabeth Twinkle in The Substance). Most. Adrian Brody would win no beauty contests. Should attractiveness be part of the best actor rubric?
Some roles, specifically those in musical biopics, call for actors to sing convincingly like the musician they are portraying—to create a convincing imitation. This seems to be a biggie. Rami Malek won for his portrayal of Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody. Renee Zellweger won for her portrayal of Judy Garland in Judy. If this is the case, pretty boy Timothee Chalamet seems to have a leg up on the competition. Lucky for him Daniel Craig wasn’t nominated for Queer.
But who know? The rubrics seem to be as diverse as the voters (which opens a whole other can of worms).
Of course, one would be naïve to think that politics is not involved in the process. Studios, production companies, and actors themselves campaign actively for Oscar. One of the most notorious examples of overactive campaigning was when Harvey Weinstein pushed very hard for his film Shakespeare in Love—which is a very good movie. In a huge upset, it won best picture over Steven Spielberg’s World War II epic Saving Private Ryan. It’s amazing what a few phone calls can do.
Of course, external politics also plays a role. This year, the current Trump administration’s war on DEI and the LGBTQ community could resonate through some of the nominations. Emilia Perez is an envelope-bending musical about a drug cartel chief seeking a sex change. It might garner some sympathy. Demi Moore, a fifty-something actress playing a fifty-something actress calls attention to the treatment and lack of substantive roles for older women in the film industry. Will it help her win?
I’m Still Here, a film about political persecution in fascist Brazil could (in our current political environment) rattle some cages. The Apprentice, a biopic about the young Donald Trump’s association with acerbic lawyer Roy Cohn has not garnered much buzz. Hard to say why.
If nothing else, the Oscars are fun. The red carpet, the stars, the presenters, the bad jokes all make for an entertaining evening. It’s been said that the ceremony is little more than an exercise in highbrow marketing. There is a lot of glitz and glamor and fuss and drama which is what Hollywood is about. It’s a little ironic that what was once an overinflated celebration of big Hollywood studio excess has become an overinflated celebration of independent and global cinema—making it all the harder to assemble a rubric.
That any of these films from studio blockbusters to shoestring independents (especially lesser-known documentaries and short films) are even recognized is great. Many of us wouldn’t know they exist without Oscar.
Movies are an integral part of American culture. The Sound of Music, Jaws, The Godfather, and Casablanca are part of our lives. So is Marlon Brando, Bette Davis, Meryl Streep, and Robert DeNiro. The Academy Awards is a long sinuous thread woven through that cultural cloth. In the end, who wins doesn’t really matter (it does, but…). What really wins is every aspect of world cinema.
And the Oscar goes to….
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