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For the past few years, I have basically ignored the Oscars. My reasons were pretty simple: Movies can be fun, but they also deserve to be taken seriously; the Oscars are never fun, and they don't take movies seriously.

"It's a drag when it gets turned into sport," Paul Thomas Anderson said when the Oscars came up a few days ago on WTF, and that might be the best way to think of them: like a sporting event, except everybody's talents involve being pretty and wearing pretty clothes and pretending they saw all the movies nominated for best picture. And lots of people enjoy watching this sport, and that's fine! But as the editor of the Portland Mercury's film section, I don't really feel the need to play along, just like I don't really feel the need to give a movie any more attention just because it was made in the "Oscar bait" genre instead of in the "summer blockbuster" genre.

Still, scrolling through Twitter this morning, it was impossible not to see the backlash about this year's nominations, largely because they slighted Selma, which was considered a front-runner for a slew of shiny trophies. While Selma got a best picture nod, neither its star, David Oyelowo, nor its director, Ava DuVernay, were nominated. Having DuVerney, a black woman, nominated for best director would have said something important in an otherwise unimportant awards show. Or, put better:


The Oscars are culturally significant because people keep watching them, and people keep watching them because people's hunger for pretty people wearing pretty clothes is fucking INSATIABLE. But they're old and busted for a different reason:


That's also why so many of this year's Oscar contenders look (and are) so similar: Producers, marketing departments, and Academy voters all think of "fine cinema" as being very much like what it's looked like in the past, which means srs bsns subject matter, sepia-toned reverence, and roles designed to give Benedict Cumberbatch as many chances to be as Benedict Cumberbatchy as possible. And so we end up with a milquetoast slate of "awards" movies, most of them designed from page one with an Oscar campaign in mind.

The silver lining? Even if they watch the Oscars, most people don't change their movie-watching habits because of them. Especially now.


There's a reason one has to go back to 2009's Avatar to think of a movie that it seemed like everyone saw and everyone talked about, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Culture has exploded in the past few years, bursting into sharp, tiny pieces, and movies no longer need to appeal to everyone. They can satisfy, challenge, and entertain smaller groups, and often do so more effectively than films that're engineered to please anyone who wanders in off the street.

That's not to say blockbusters don't still exist, and that's not to say they aren't still important.


An even better example might be a series that some people write off. One of the many great things about the super-popular Fast & Furious movies (particularly those directed by Justin Lin, and particularly given what moviegoing demographics look like) is their casting. No Fast & Furious movie is ever going to win best picture; that doesn't matter, though, because people will still see them. Business Week, last year:

The 12-year-old franchise consistently performs well—2011’s Fast Five took in more than $200 million in domestic ticket sales alone—using high-profile casting switch-ups, in addition to the requisite muscle cars and explosions, to expand its fan base. Yet more than those bulging biceps and motorcycle flips, Furious 6 owes its weekend haul to its singular ability to attract an audience that reflects America’s shifting demographics.

It does that by looking, as they say, just like us. The Fast & Furious films may have the most ethnically diverse cast of any blockbuster franchise. The latest installment features black, Hispanic, and Asian actors such as Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, Tyrese Gibson, Michelle Rodriguez, John Ortiz, and Sung Kang in key roles, alongside Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (Samoan-American) and Vin Diesel, who jokingly says he has “ambiguous ethnicity.” “We’re the Benetton of casting,” Jeffrey Kirchenbaum, Universal Pictures’ (CMCSA) co-president of production, told the entertainment news site TheWrap in May. Moviegoers took notice. (Via.)

I don't have a pat way to wrap all this up, because art, commerce, and these kinds of social and institutional issues are impossible to tie up with a little bow (despite the best efforts of awards ceremonies, box office analysts, and think-piece bloggers). But that's the kind of stuff I was reading this morning with regard to the Oscars, and that's the last that I'm going to think about them for as long as I possibly can, and I encourage you to do the same.

(One last tweet.)