And the loser is. . . the viewers

I hadn't planned on writing about the Academy Awards show I didn't watch on Sunday night; for one thing, I haven't seen an Oscarcast in probably twenty years, I don't like Conan O'Brien, I hadn't heard of any of the nominated movies nor most of the nominated performers (although I did my due dilligence and looked most of them up, so I knew what was what), I knew the nominated songs would be bad, they'd leave deserving people out of the In Memorium segment, and they'd tell too many political jokes that would just make me too angry to go to sleep afterward, and when all was said and done I'd have lost three hours that I'd never get back.

As I say, I hadn't planned on writing any of this. But (much to my surprise) the response I got to my essay last week on TV shows I don't watch received such positive feedback that it seemed maybe going negative two weeks in a row might work. So here we are. 

I think I've mentioned here before that I used to be a big fan of the Oscars. Over the years, I'd spend hours in the library going through back issues of TV Guide to look at the full-page close-ups with pictures of the nominees, I had my copy of Wiley and Bona's Inside Oscar book, and watched old clips of the show on YouTube. (One of the great favors the Academy has done, for both movie buffs and television historians, is upload hours of footage from those old shows, where we can not only appreciate the winners from years past, we can also study how the networks used to broadcast the show.) It was full of movie stars, it was glamorous, it was special. 

All that's changed, which is one reason I don't watch the Oscars anymore. Even last year, when I actually had a rooting interest in the winners (having seen two of the Best Picture nominees), I didn't bother. There was, therefore, no reason to even consider tuning in this year, but from what I understand, I wouldn't have been a bit surprised by what happened (although I didn't expect that Adrien Brody's acceptance speech would run almost as long as The Brutalist, the movie for which he won). Otherwise, it would seem to have been just as much of a turn-off as I'd have expected.

I don't know if the Oscars can be saved, and to be honest, I'm not sure that it's worth trying to figure out. The movie industry as a whole is on life support, and before too long we're going to have to try and figure out just what qualifies as a "movie," and whether or not it even has to appear in a theater in order to qualify for an Oscar. For all we know, we may see a day when the Motion Picture Academy and the Television Academy come up with some kind of hybrid definition that allows studios to produce movies that go directly to streaming but still count as far as the Academy Awards is concerned.*

*My point here is that the made-for-TV movie, in its heyday, was its own type of movie, a distinct genre from the movie that appears in a theater: its structure was constructed to allow for commercials, the subject matter was creative and frequently provocative, the casting frequently came from the television industry itself, and the storytelling was direct. Clint Eastwood's latest movie, Juror #2, was originally scheduled to go direct to streaming; would anyone really consider that a made-for-TV movie in the traditional sense?

Having said all that, if the Academy insists on continuing with the Oscars, I could make a few suggestions for how to come up with a better television presentation. (The most obvious — make and nominate better and more popular movies — is beyond my reach, but that doesn't mean there aren't still things that could be done.)

In no particular order:

• Hire Ricky Gervais as the emcee, and provide him with a copy of the Epstein guest list, if it hasn't already been released. Even I would tune in to see that.
• If you're going to insist on having talk-show hosts as emcees, put them in their natural environment. Sit them behind a desk, have the presenters join them, and when the winners are introduced, have them come sit on the couch.
• Speaking of the winners, limit their acceptance speeches to 30 seconds, after which the emcee says, "We'll be right back." It shouldn't take any longer for someone to say "Thank You," and if they want to talk longer, refer them to a Toastmasters meeting.
• Limit the red carpet segment to five minutes, tops. There aren't enough actual movie stars to justify wasting more time than that.
• Eliminate all the production numbers (if they still have them) and special tributes. All it does is remind viewers of how good the movies used to be, and how bad they are today.
• I understand that the Best Song nominees weren't performed this year. That might have been a bit radical; just have the movie's director cut a music video of the song and show that. (You remember music videos, don't you?)
• Get rid of the "In Memorium" segment and just show the most recent "TCM Remembers" instead. Don't be afraid to admit that those doing it now are in way over their heads.
• Set a goal of a running time of 90 minutes and no more. The awards show should not last longer than the average movie, and certainly not longer than Ben-Hur.

The chances of having any of these suggetions accepted by the Academy are probably, to use a movie title, less than zero. But it's long past time for us to realize that the Academy Awards is no longer a show that's broadcast on TV; it's a TV show, pure and simple, and it ought to look and sound like one. And if that's beyond the ability of the industry, then maybe it's time to just call the whole thing off. TV