Oscar in Nomadland

The Oscars are over. Literally.

The scaled and stripped down presentation of the 93rd annual Academy Awards presentation exposed more to the world than they ever meant to, namely, the end isn't just near, it's here.

In recent years, the Oscarcast has become less and less viable and increasingly irrelevant. Naturally, that's stating the obvious since, in the grand scheme of things, it's just a stupid awards show. But the power of Hollywood magic, transforming this ceremony to the world into a spectacle loaded to the tits with baubles and bangles and beads, making the Academy Awards ceremony itself into the destination event that it has become for nearly a century.

The 2020 Oscar extravaganza was the last big event before everything closed down. Since then, the Motion Picture Academy had declared that the show must go on. Why deprive the rest of the world the ability of them to prove how wonderful they all are? Other awards shows tried to utilize Zoom technology and came up short as the Golden Globe debacle proved. The Screen Actors Guild broadcast basically just handed out their prizes like Oprah handing out cars. "You get a SAG! And YOU get a SAG!" So what about the Big Show, the Super Bowl/World Cup/Wrestlemania of Entertainment itself, huh? Time to think outside the box (or box office, as it were). 

Due to Covid restrictions, the audience would be considerably smaller with only the nominees attending. The Kodak Theater, the regular venue for the Oscars would be out of the question since the auditorium would appear too empty on camera. It might have given a boatload of seat fillers some necessary employment though. They chose Union Station in Los Angeles, a beautiful classic structure to be sure. Unfortunately, they neglected the thousands of commuters who use that very hub. Once again the 2% screwed over the 98. Hollywood cares.

The Academy went to critical darling Stephen Soderbergh to produce the show (with two others) and his concept  was to film the ceremony like a movie. Interesting idea if he could pull it off. The opening of the show had actual promise with Regina King in a tracking shot entering the building holding an Oscar and stepping onto stage. Upon arrival, however, she tripped. It wasn't her fault certainly. Unfortunately that's set the tone for the rest of the show. The whole enterprise was basically one big stumble. (Exactly what time was rehearsal anyway?) In effect, it became another Stephen Soderbergh movie that no one wanted to see. 

There was a shake-up in the order of nominations, no big deal really until the very end. But the lack of clips, songs and any sense of film history went by the wayside. Someone suggested, "Hey! How about longer speeches!" That's what the public tunes in for. More glad-handing, pats on the back and speechifying. (Couldn't wait five minutes, could you, Regina?) Oh, you want comedy? Let's have Lil' Rel play a trivia game to...what? Pad time? Oh, so that Glenn Close can dance "Da Butt". That's entertainment. Also scripted. Coming around to the finish line, Best Picture was announced before Actor and Actress. Why? So that they cold give a posthumous award to the late Chadwick Boseman and show everyone (except for the stranded commuters) that Hollywood does have a heart after all! "And the Oscar goes to...Anthony Hopkins." He couldn't be there that night, so the Academy accepted on his behalf. G'night, folks!

Hoist by their own petard! Lord, deliver me from people with good intentions...

What a bunch of dopes. Whoever is upset over the results, shut your holes. It's an Award show. The votes were tabulated and Hopkins won. Period. End of story. The real kerfluffle (pardon my French) is that the Best Actor was conspicuously and intentionally placed at the very end as if the Powers That Be had inside information to the results. If Boseman did win, wouldn't that look a wee bit suspicious? Would anyone call them on it? What an insult to the Boseman family to have their son used in such a manner, making the Academy and ABC look benevolent.  Shame on them. Chadwick Boseman deserved better than that. Those of us that suffered through this did as well.

The Oscars have been on a downward spiral for years now. Many things have contributed to its demise such as the internet, social media and the onslaught of similar award presentations that precede it. The Hollywood community doesn't do themselves any favors by lecturing the public from their lofty platforms while preaching to the choir before them who hang on every precious syllable. Besides that, the old hocus pocus just doesn't work anymore. It's as dated as a three ring circus. It's nothing more than a fashion show now and nothing much more. The movies don't seem to enter into it at all. A public service announcement sponsored by the National Association of Theater Owners featuring Matthew McConaughey proclaiming that cinemas were back in business again, ran in the Oscar pre-show, not in the main broadcast. That spoke volumes.

There's no coming back from this. They'll try, try again, struggling to regain the faith of the Great Unwashed and failing each and every time. When the contract with ABC expires, it will no longer be financially feasible to continue on this large of a scale. I heard a critic mention that, in the intimate setting of Union Station, the show was pretty much "in the room", meaning not for the general public. The whole thing began with a dinner and ceremony much like the Globes. Maybe it should continue on that path. Pre-record the bloody thing, edit it down to two hours and broadcast it if you really feel the need. Because the Oscars as we knew them are indeed over. 

And, oh yeah, NOMADLAND won Best Picture.

Roll credits.

Oscars So What?

When I think about the debacle known as the 92nd Annual Academy Awards ceremony AKA Oscars 2020 AKA Shitshow Unextraordinaire, I can't shake the image of a deflated party balloon. Having watched this show my entire life,  there have been some wretched productions, many outright disasters and several that have been boring beyond belief. Yet in this vast graveyard there existed a sense of celebration, a false front to be sure because that is what Hollywood does best, but at least it was a chance to revel in the end in the undeniable gaudy wonderfulness of it all. There's no business like show business after all and isn't it grand to be able to acknowledge that to the world? As a viewer I wanted to be a part of it (like New York, New York) and, if I couldn't be there, I could covet it without guilt due to the lifelong love I've always felt. And let the nay-sayers be damned because I am the Great Academy Award Show Apologist! Boring? Hah! Self-congratulatory? You bet! It's all about the movies, baby and I am soaking in it!

Alas, that's all over I'm afraid. Welcome to the Woke Culture Oscars once again and it may very well be the end of the line. Sunday night's show certainly ring the death knell louder than ever as it defiantly promotes sanctimony in its own inimitable and hypocritical ways. What made it so miserable is the community itself chasing its own tale attempt to right the wrongs of the world that is increasingly abandoning it like a redheaded stepchild. A sense of dread has fallen over the entire proceedings because it won't be long before anyone will be preaching to the choir. They'll testify their insufferable opinions to the great unwashed and those who have attended will cheer in agreement being of one unsound hive mindset. Disagree and you'll be banished (or dare I say blacklisted?)  As inclusive as Hollywood claims to be, the more exclusive intolerant they've become, gladly supplying their harshest critics with ammunition in hopes of taking them down from their lofty perches while the rest of the audience tunes out. But that only encourages them to blather on and on as presenters at recipients rail on about the lack of diversity,  representation and acknowledgement of those worthier than those who are actually made it to the final ballot, the rotten bastards. These nominees, if you want to call them that, sat in uncomfortable reverence as their so-called "accomplishments" are denounced and lambasted by a barrage of continuous liberal guilt. "Gosh, I feel bad that Greta Gerwig or Awkwafina weren't nominated. I wish there was something I could do. What? I won? Suck on that, you talentless fucks!"

The show, the grand finale of the awards season could not have been more lackluster as if that was the goal. The no host gambit, which paid off okay last year, didn't work at all this time around. Too many non-entities giving introductions to minor celebs. It wasn't so much of a "who's who" as it was a "who's that?" The opening number could not have been more generic and pandering to us to illustrate the lack of diversity message right out of the gate. Janelle Monae, an extremely dynamic performer, worked her butt off with the most generic material possible. Steve Martin and Chris Rock, an oil and water duo if there ever was one, gave us middling fond memories of an opening monologue (or dialogue as a case may be) with little payoff. Most of what passed for comedy lay on the ground like so much litter,wasting semi-precious time (see Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig or Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus. Or don't. You'll be better off.) The only honest laughter I got were from two performers I normally despise. James Corden and Rebel Wilson's send up of CATS actually gave me a stupid laugh with their silly bit. Hey, I was entertainment deprived by that point Nominated songs were just throwaways. And what the hell was Eminem doing there? He couldn't bother to show up when he wasn't actually nominated, so let's bring him back over 15 years later for...what? Anthony Hopkins wasn't there this year, so he should come back in 2021 and sing "It's Hard Out here for a Pimp".

I have no quibble for awards themselves. Should PARASITE have won over everything else or was this another form of that W word again? After viewing it, I choose the former. I thought 1917 was going to be this year's GREEN BOOK and wanted to proven wrong. 1917 was excellent, but it paled in comparison to PARASITE, ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD and THE IRISHMAN, so the fact they didn't go safe with their choice is fine with me. And Bong Joon-Ho, his cast and crew  had at least a sense that they were actually glad to be there and for the right reasons-the Oscars, for crying out loud. Pleased to see Brad Pitt win as well as Joaquin Phoenix....however...Brad said he only had 45 seconds for his acceptance...what the hell happened with Joaquin and Renee Zellweger? Already at the three hour mark and change, they rambled on (especially the Joaqer) for what seemed to be hours on ends. As Ricky Gervais said at the Golden Globes, "Get your award, say thank and fuck off." Nope. Had to hear Phoenix's sad cow story and down the drain we went...

The time has come to stop broadcasting the Oscars live on national TV. Go to cable or a streaming service or the highlights on YouTube. Awards shows have hit their event horizon. Ride off in the sunset. Roll credits.

Am I basing all this gloom and doom on one rotten show? Hardly. It's been coming for a long time. You can't have a party balloon if they're going to prick it with a pin before it's inflated. What do they expect the end result is gong to be?

But the big question remains:  Will I watch again next year? It depends. What else is on?

Francois Goes to Hollywood

This year, DEAD TUESDAY, the interactive murder mystery formerly known as THE PERILS OF

FRANCOIS, celebrates its 5th anniversary. And what a year it has been, having its fullest production slate since its inception back 2014. Three different theater companies across the country staged this opus o' mine, not bad for a show I didn't think would get past its first production. Apparently, Jann Harrison's creation, Francois Fibian, the man who would be frog as interpreted by yours truly, has caught on beyond my expectations. It's not that I thought it was an inferior product. Not at all. I'm proud of this script, but it was just that it's so...odd, a little quirky for the general public. Blissfully wrong again.

NASHVILLE ARTIST JANN HARRISON'S WEBSITE

Ending the year with a bang, not a croak, DEAD TUESDAY's third and final production of the year will also be its West Coast premiere courtesy of SanZman Productions down in La La Land. Technically, it's not Hollywood, but that's moot as far as I'm concerned. SanZman will stage DT in several locations in the L.A. area.

SANZMAN PRODUCTIONS FACEBOOK PAGE

To make matters even sweeter, my friend Melanie Roady, the producer who commissioned me to write this show in the first place, gave me yet another wonderful and generous gift. Previously, she sent me the the latex mask from that first show in Nashville, a full head that sits inside the front door of my apartment. Now she mailed me a framed authentic Jann Harrison original of Monsieur Fibian. Her reasoning was that he belongs with his "daddy creator". Aw, shucks. That woman is the best.
As I stated in the past, I have blessed to have an angel like Mel in my corner. She put me on this path that I've been on for half a decade now, helping me achieve a third act in life and making me find my way once again. I am eternally humbled and grateful. Love you, Mel.

THE FRANCOIS SAGA BEGINS HERE

So this month wraps up the Year of the Frog and it's been all Francois all the time. In 2020, I have three bookings at this writing including my first here in Oregon. Huzzah! More to come (fingers crossed) including an interesting side hustle and some honest-to-goodness new material (fingers uncrossed so I can write).

As a former boss of mine used to say-

Stay tuned.

Performance rights for DEAD TUESDAY are available. Contact me at writtenbysc@gmail.com