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The predictable predictability of the Oscars

Favoring middle-of-the-road prestige over edgier fare

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It’s hard to write a reaction piece about the Oscars when you recognize that the Oscars, by their very nature, are essentially a poll – or perhaps, more aptly, a popularity contest – which reflects an aggregate of personal opinions, and therefore have as much to do with internal Hollywood politics as with rewarding artistic excellence.

I’m not saying that the movies and people being celebrated on the stage at the Dolby Theater in Hollywood Sunday night – all of them, winners and nominees alike – didn’t deserve to be there; on the contrary, 2023 was an outstanding year for cinema, and every one of the contenders could be considered worthy of taking the prize. If that’s the case, however, how can any of these outcomes be determined without the influence of personal taste? Making movies is not like playing sports, where a win results from the highest number of points scored and goals blocked; there is no such handily objective criteria to rely on in picking an actor, a screenwriter, or an entire film to proclaim as the “best” in its respective category, and it’s inevitable that Academy voters will be influenced by personal bias when they make their choices on that final ballot.

While Sunday’s 96th annual Oscar ceremony, which offered the usual snubs and oversights and no real surprises, might have disappointed me or even occasionally sparked a glimmer of outrage, I cannot fairly say that any of the final results were “mistakes.” And though it may be oversimplifying things to say that being offended by the Academy’s final choices is akin to being angry that someone else’s favorite flavor of ice cream is chocolate when yours is salted caramel praline, it’s still enough to convince me that my “reaction” piece to the Academy Awards can really only ever be an “opinion” piece,

With that in mind, here we go.

The presentation itself was the usual blend of witty repartee (mostly provided with success by veteran Oscar host Jimmy Kimmel, though attempts at it from the various presenters ran the gamut from delightful to disastrous), musical performances (Billie Eilish and brother Finneas O’Connell’s rendition of “What Was I Made For?”, which went on to win the evening’s only award for “Barbie”, was a particular highlight, alongside the more lavish and deliciously amusing dance production number headed by Supporting Actor nominee Ryan Gosling for “I’m Just Ken” from the same film), uplifting moments (a regal Rita Moreno’s benedictory introduction of “Barbie” Supporting Actress nominee America Ferrera brought tears to my eyes, and I suspect I wasn’t alone), and show-stopping surprises (John Cena’s teasingly faux nudity presenting the Best Costume Design award was a memorable stunt, to put it mildly, as was the combination of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito to do the honors in the Visual Effects and Film Editing categories) – yet it also had more than its fair share of embarrassing gaffes, such as upstaging the “In Memoriam” segment with an overblown production number accompanied by father-and-son operatic crooners Andrea and Matteo Bocelli’s duet of “Con tu partirò”, a move that has fueled perhaps more post-Oscars outrage than anything else from this year’s ceremony.

As for the politics, there were the expected barbs making fun of easy conservative targets, but most of the speeches avoided invoking too much progressive fury. The one overtly political moment came with the win of UK director Jonathan Glazer’s “The Zone of Interest” for Best International Feature, when he read, in prayerlike monotone, a pre-prepared statement warning against the dehumanizing hate depicted in his slice-of-Nazi-life historical drama and calling for empathy for the targets of such hate on both sides of the current crisis in Gaza. It was met with backlash, of course, especially after a partial quote in Variety omitted key elements of the speech and led many to believe the Jewish filmmaker was refuting his own religion.

As for the winners of the awards themselves (you can find the full list on the Oscar website) the evening’s choices fell more or less in line with my predictions – though not necessarily my preferences. 

The domination of “Oppenheimer” in most of the major categories in which it competed was, for anyone following the pre-ceremony buzz, a foregone conclusion. Few doubted that Cillian Murphy would handily claim the Best Actor prize – thwarting nominee Colman Domingo (“Rustin”) from becoming the first queer actor to win for playing a queer character in the process – or that Christopher Nolan would take the Best Director category, and from there the win for Best Picture felt as inevitable as anything can be at the Oscars.

Equally inevitable was the evening’s most easily predicted “Oppenheimer” win, as veteran Hollywood player Robert Downey, Jr. ebulliently swaggered onstage amid the enthusiastic familial cheers of his peers to claim the Best Supporting Actor prize; his acceptance speech, in which he self-deprecatingly recalled the legal and professional obstacles arising from the substance abuse that nearly derailed his early career, became a testament to overcoming personal setbacks to achieve an even higher success, something that resonated in the words of several other of the evening’s winners.

In the categories where “Oppenheimer” didn’t win, the odds were already in favor of the eventual victors, such as first-time filmmaker Cord Jefferson, whose “American Fiction” earned him the Best Adapted Screenplay Award over fellow front runners like “Barbie” and “Poor Things,” and Da’Vine Joy Randolph, whose winning Supporting Actress turn in “The Holdovers” had been a juggernaut throughout the award season.

Many Oscar fans, though most accepted the predestination of “Oppenheimer” as the year’s big winner, might rather have seen a different candidate come out on top (my own choice, for what it’s worth, would have been “Barbie,” with “Poor Things” and “Zone of Interest” coming up close behind); but even if Nolan’s weighty and technically dazzling biopic was unquestionably a fine film, exploring a deeply disturbing slice of not-too-distant history that still casts a long existential shadow over our world today, it’s impossible for me not to see in its multiple wins an all-too-familiar pattern of “safe” choices.

While “Oppenheimer” might pique ethical discussions over its title character’s choice to build the atomic bomb, few would find controversy in the idea that the destruction unleashed on the world by that choice is a reason for concern. Its most viable competitors, “Barbie” and “Poor Things” – both of which touched on many of the same existential themes, albeit from a markedly different direction and in a more absurdist style – each stirred divisive opinions around (among other things) a perceived feminist agenda; other highly-acclaimed titles in the running, like the non-English language entries “Zone”, “Past Lives”, and “Anatomy of a Fall”, fell outside the comfortable domestic audience mainstream where Oscar’s favorite picks are usually a little too deeply-rooted to allow much opportunity for a dark horse upset. While not many expected Bradley Cooper’s ambitious Bernstein biopic “Maestro” to take home any awards, it was considerably more noteworthy that Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon,” nominated for 10 Awards and widely lauded as one of the year’s most essential films, failed to score a single one of them – though I can’t help also noting that it deals with one of most shameful threads in our American past, inevitably making it a controversial movie for an era marked by deeply divided ideologies around that subject.

It’s perhaps for that reason that “Flower Moon” was not considered a front runner in most of its categories, but there was one in which it was seen as a heavy favorite. With Lily Gladstone poised to become the first Indigenous performer to win the Best Actress trophy, the odds leading up to Sunday’s presentation seemed to position them as the front runner; in the end, however, it was Emma Stone’s tour-de-force in “Poor Things” – in which she appeared in virtually every scene, in contrast to Gladstone’s relatively limited screen – that took it instead. Though it wasn’t quite a surprise, given the number of wins Stone has garnered already for the film, which also took home the prizes for Best Makeup and Hairstyling and Best Production Design, it nevertheless felt – to me, at least – like another example of Oscar’s predictable reluctance to court controversy with its choices.

Ironically, but not surprisingly, this conservative approach often just ends up causing a controversy of its own, and this case is no exception. Though I had championed Stone’s brilliant performance as the obvious winner, when her name was announced I found myself feeling disappointment over Goldstone’s loss, even as I was thrilled for Stone’s well-earned victory. After all, in a contest where the outcome is entirely subjective, Academy voters could have chosen to amplify the excellence of someone from within a marginalized community. Stone, who seemed as surprised at her win as anyone else, did remarkable work, but so did Gladstone; though it truly is “an honor just to be nominated,” it was an opportunity for Oscar to take a step toward correcting a long-ignored injustice at a time when doing so could make a demonstrably constructive impact on our culture and our society at a time when doing so would have a tremendous cultural impact, and it didn’t happen. It was a moment that struck me with an odd sense of disappointment even as I cheered for Stone; a bit of the sour within the sweet.

That, aside from a sense of missed opportunity over the evening’s consistent pattern of favoring the middle-of-the-road prestige represented by “Oppenheimer” over the edgier, more confrontational material presented by some of the other titles on the slate, was my biggest takeaway from the Academy Awards. Though I can’t say that any of the winners were unworthy, I can’t help thinking that their victories were somewhat tainted by the virtual shutout of “Barbie”, (which still feels to me like a message for female filmmakers to “stay in their lane”) and relatively low showing for “Poor Things” (which took only 3 of the 11 awards for which it was nominated), and that their underappreciation for such films was for me proof that many of the professionals working within the industry are afraid of material that pushes the medium too far outside its traditional boundaries, that dares to imagine stories and ideas which give voice to “outsider” concerns beyond the level of lip service, or that stretches the accepted limits of narrative entertainment.

More concerning, perhaps, is the minimal change that has come in the wake of the Academy’s much-publicized retooling to promote greater diversity and inclusion among the nominees. While it’s heartening to see people of color and queer people being brought into the mix more consistently than ever before, it’s also all the more painful when we see them passed over or relegated to the status of “also ran” most of the time. As a queer writer working for a queer publication, it’s impossible for me not to be impatient when films with strong LGBTQ content are lauded alongside mainstream titles only to consistently be passed over when it comes to the final victory. While queer subject matter, in varying degrees, was part of movies like “Rustin”, “Nyad”, and even “Barbie,” only two wins in the “major” categories went to films that included significant queer themes – “American Fiction” and “Anatomy of a Fall”, both of which won for their screenplays.

And while it’s now old news, the Academy’s complete omission of Andrew Haigh’s melancholy gay ghost story “All of Us Strangers,” a queer UK film overwhelmingly embraced by other major awards bodies across the world and in America itself and considered a major contender before failing to earn a single Oscar nomination, and female filmmaker Emerald Fennell’s “Saltburn,” which hinged – at least ostensibly – on a queer attraction between stars Barry Keoghan and Jacob Elordi, speaks volumes about the comfort level surrounding queer content within mainstream Hollywood. Even “May December,” a high-profile film directed by queer indie pioneer Todd Haynes but featuring only presumably heterosexual characters, received only a single nod (for Best Original Screenplay) for “May December,” despite being widely considered a front-runner for several acting awards. While inclusivity doesn’t mean considering every queer-relevant movie a shoo-in for the competition, it’s telling when the Academy all but ignores queer titles that have been contenders and even winners at all the other major film award ceremonies, and frankly, it’s extremely annoying. While I can’t speak for women, those in the Black community, or other groups with a history of being dismissed by Oscar, I can only assume that their sentiments must resemble my own.

Yet as I reach the end of my observations about the latest installment of the Academy Awards, I find myself falling short of blaming the Academy itself, at least as an organization. While it has had a problematic history of dragging its feet when it comes to evolving toward a more all-embracing approach to bestowing honors, undeniable progress has been made. That this progress is infuriatingly slow is less a reflection on the awards than it is on Hollywood as a whole; after all, despite Academy efforts to ensure greater diversity among its nominees, it’s the individual choices of its voters that determines the final results – and if those results fail to accomplish more than the occasional token victory for the non-white-heterosexual contenders, it’s a symptom of the fact that those voices are underrepresented within the industry at large.

If we want to see an Academy Awards ceremony that truly accomplishes the kind of all-inclusive spirit for which it has so palpable a potential, we must continue to pressure the Hollywood industry at large to build a more diverse and inclusive creative environment. Otherwise, no matter how much they promise to do better, they will always fall short.

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Bars & Parties

Lesbian Bar Project co-founder: purity politics could destroy our remaining spaces

Last Ditch’s decision to lift its mask requirement for one night a week has sparked intra-queer controversy

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(Design by Soph Holland)

Uncloseted Media published this story on Sept. 29

By ERICA ROSE and THE LESBIAN BAR PROJECT | As a professional lesbian and Massachusetts native, I’ve recently been asked by a lot of folks what I think about the saga unfolding at Last Ditch. The now-viral story, first reported by the Boston Globe, centers on a Western Massachusetts lesbian bar that lifted its mask requirement for one night a week to help drum up business.

The decision ignited an intra-queer controversy that has been feasted on by media outlets across the political spectrum — from the New York Post to LGBTQ Nation — and is even reportedly being eyed for a Hollywood adaptation. Apparently nothing is more entertaining than a bunch of lesbians and queers fighting with each other over KN-95s.

What has been lost in all of the chatter and media coverage is the very real possibility that Last Ditch, which just opened in April 2025, will have to close its doors. The venue’s one remaining founder, Jackie Matellian, revealed in a community Zoom meeting that she’s working four jobs, is now solely responsible for the bar’s $50,000 business loan and is struggling to keep up with the bills. So as we laugh about the controversy’s similarity to a “Portlandia” skit and how one of the bar’s founders left to enroll in clown school, we forget that yet another lesbian bar is facing an existential crisis — and this time the call is coming from inside the house.

In 2020, my friend Elina Street and I created The Lesbian Bar Project, an Emmy-, Webby- and GLAAD Media Award-winning docuseries and initiative that tells the stories of lesbian queer bars around the world. We were moved to act because at the time there were only an estimated 16 lesbian bars in the United States, and the pandemic threatened to bring that number down even further.

There are now more sapphic bars than there were just before the pandemic — about 36 of them in total — but this is down from approximately 200 in 1980. Maybe that doesn’t mean much to you, but for the millions of sapphics living in the U.S., this number is calamitous.

As the world laughs at lesbians and sapphics, I want to take a second and tell you what I feel when I walk into one of these bars, which are all unique and irreplaceable in their own way: I feel seen.

Sometimes I think Cubbyhole in New York City’s West Village neighborhood knew I was gay before I did. When I walked in there for the first time, before I was even out, I was transfixed by the colorful array of tchotchkes hanging from the ceiling and how the women standing next to me were completely unafraid to express their desire for one another. I knew the minute I was ready to come out, I had a home. I also felt the joy of a new couple falling in love at Seattle’s Wildrose, the quiet confidence of a short king lining up her shot at the pool table at Ginger’s in Brooklyn and the kick of cayenne pepper in Julie Mabry’s crawfish at Houston’s Pearl Bar.

Lesbian bars don’t just serve lesbians; they serve queer folks across the spectrum, including bisexual, pansexual and trans people. As Elina and I traveled across the U.S. and Europe and to parts of Latin America to document the bar owners, staff and patrons that make up the ecosystems of these spaces, we also became uniquely acquainted with the factors that threaten their existence: gentrification, wage gaps, sexism, environmental disasters, gun violence, rising insurance premiums and political administrations working to annihilate queer people and their families.

Lesbian bar owners, like all leaders and entrepreneurs, are imperfect. There have been significant issues over the years at lesbian bars: employee harassment, racism, lack of accessibility, sexual assault and transphobia. All bar owners should be held accountable and should listen to their communities to evolve into safer and more equitable spaces. I also acknowledge my privilege: I am able-bodied, white, cis and from a family system that loves me for who I am. Not everyone has that.

Queer people, especially trans and bisexual people, are suffering from disproportionately high levels of depression, and our mental health system isn’t equipped to support them. Immunocompromised people and long COVID are real, and many of my friends are suffering to this day. The people with the least safety net are often the ones for whom a bar closing costs the most. And yet, as we’re seeing with Last Ditch, the queer community often lashes out at each other. It’s also the mainstream media taking the internal conflict and making a mockery out of it, distracting from the real possibility that this bar could close due to financial pressures. A bar that many people loved and needed is facing extinction. Perhaps it’s safer to dissent with one another than with the larger forces trying to eradicate us, but in doing so, we risk destroying the few spaces we have left.

Due to the constraints of purity politics — some in good faith, some not so much — lesbian bar owners, almost all of whom are queer women themselves, are forced to be everything for everyone, similarly to how women are forced to be everything for everyone. By asking these bars to uphold impossible standards — standards very few other third spaces are asked to consider — we all end up losing.

I want to move as a community toward dialogue, compassionate dissent and collaboration to make our spaces better with the goal of keeping them OPEN and thriving, rather than destroying them from the inside with expectations that are arguably unattainable.

While I have your attention — for this fleeting second of the news cycle — may I urge us to spearhead a way to keep these small businesses afloat without attacking our own community along the way? Bar owners are left with an impasse: They want to be community-centered, but they also have to make money to keep their doors open. Sometimes they might make business decisions that don’t work for everyone — and that’s partly because different patrons have different priorities and want different things — but these owners deserve the opportunity for productive dialogue. We have to work with them and with each other to keep our spaces open, to keep them growing.

Lesbian bars raised me into the queer woman I am today. One thing I think about as I reflect on the six years of work we’ve done to document these spaces is that shared, unspoken language I have with a stranger the moment we both walk into one of these bars: the nod, the ease, the not having to explain ourselves. I don’t want to lose that, and neither should you.

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Debbie Allen shares on loss, love, and the power of speaking out

Actress directed groundbreaking ‘A Different World’ episode about HIV

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Debbie Allen (Photo courtesy of GCI Health)

For somebody like Debbie Allen, HIV advocacy lies at the heart of their life and career. In the 1980s, at a time when HIV/AIDS devastated the performing arts community, Allen witnessed friends, performers, directors, and choreographers alike disappear. This experience turned her personal grief into a decades-long commitment to advocacy. From directing a landmark “A Different World” episode about HIV at a time when even just saying the word on television could make networks sweat, to continuing her work today, Allen has continuously utilized the biggest stage available to her to ensure that the conversation stays alive.

Now the conversation has changed from four decades ago, yet Allen believes it still needs to get louder. Medical advances have transformed HIV from the crisis it was into a manageable condition for many folks. Yet stigma, social challenges, and the significant need for mental, emotional, and community support still persist. In our conversation, Allen opens up about the losses that influenced her activism, the power of media and the arts to change public perceptions, and why “whole health” means looking beyond the virus to the full human person living with it. Her message is simple and solid — no one should have to navigate HIV alone.

You have stood alongside the HIV community for four decades, and counting. When you look back to the start of that journey, what first got you involved and what has kept you connected and dedicated for all of this time?

My fight against HIV began in the ‘80s, when the epidemic devastated the performing arts community, and I lost my entire world — my friends, dancers, directors, and choreographers. That profound grief fueled my mission to use my voice for advocacy — from directing the groundbreaking HIV episode on “A Different World” to fight stigma to standing on stages today to continue to raise awareness. 

This is a mission that continues to stay near and dear to my heart so that all people impacted by HIV — whether they are living with HIV or supporting someone living with HIV — have the resources and support they deserve. 

How have those experiences with your own personal losses due to HIV impacted the way you understand the virus?

If we look back to 40 years ago, HIV impacted an entire generation. We experienced incredible loss and heartache that I will never forget. This experience made me realize how vulnerable we are as humans and how much support we truly need in our healthcare journeys. And while incredible progress has been made, I also understand so much more needs to be done — from combating stigma, providing additional resources, and ensuring ongoing support for people who are living with HIV today.  

Debbie Allen (Photo provided by GCI Health)

You’ve built an extraordinary career as a dancer, choreographer, director, producer, actor, educator, and advocate. How has each part of your career influenced the others? What have you learned about leadership from working with artists and performers?

Being a dancer, choreographer, director, producer, actor, and educator has helped shape the person I am today. Each experience has inspired another. What unifies each role is my ability to lead and learn from everyone I’m working with. It’s also these opportunities that have afforded me an incredible platform for my advocacy efforts. I strive to bring leadership approaches from my various stages — in a very literal sense — to a national stage as I support a variety of initiatives, such as HIV awareness.

The medical landscape around HIV has evolved dramatically since you first began your advocacy. What is one thing you wish younger folks understood about what the first years of the epidemic were really like?

Thanks to medical advancements, we can now look at so much more than HIV status and this is a tremendous step forward. As someone who has always believed in the power of mind, body, and spirit, I want today’s generation to understand that people living with HIV need integrated support for their mental, emotional, physical, and social well-being because all these elements are deeply connected. 

We need to broaden the discussion around HIV management, and that’s why I’m proud to work with Merck on “Your Hive of Whole Health,” which addresses factors such as managing one’s mental wellness, co-occurring conditions, social drivers, and other life challenges.

Your Hive of Whole Health is built around the idea that health doesn’t happen in isolation. What does “whole health” mean to you in your own life?

Health doesn’t happen in isolation. People living with HIV need comprehensive support systems around them — whether that’s family, chosen family, neighbors, community or religious leaders, or care team members; they are a part of the whole health journey. 

To me, whole health means looking beyond the virus to truly understand the unique challenges that people face so they have the full support they need. Having supported loved ones on their health journeys and managing my own well-being, I know that comprehensive support is key.

That’s the beauty of “Your Hive of Whole Health.” In fact, the idea behind the program is simple. Just as a hive depends on the strength of many bees working together, people living with HIV often rely on a network of support that includes healthcare providers, advocates, family, friends, and peers. “Your Hive of Whole Health” provides tools and resources to help individuals build and strengthen those connections. 

For someone living with HIV, what kinds of support beyond medical treatment do you think can make the most significant difference in their lives?

As people are living longer with HIV and managing additional health conditions, like high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and diabetes, having the right support system in place can play an increasingly important role.

Understanding these other conditions, as well as navigating social challenges and other life challenges such as not having access to affordable or healthy food, not having support from family or friends, struggling with stable housing, or facing misconceptions about HIV is critical. It’s awareness, understanding, and a “Hive” of support that can make a difference.

People can go to HiveofWholeHealth.com to learn more, access resources, and build their own Hive. 

Debbie Allen (Photo provided by GCI Health)

Many folks tend to talk about the HIV epidemic as if it is something of the past. What do you think we risk losing when we stop talking about HIV and the people whose lives have been affected by it?

This journey began for all of us in a time of intense fear, isolation, and crisis. As I reflect back to the early ‘90s, it was an honor to create the first network television show on “A Different World” to address the epidemic at a time when people were afraid to even say the word. The network and advertisers were very hesitant about talking about HIV on TV in this way at that time. It really hadn’t been done before. But I stood my ground and pushed forward. As a result, we were able to bring the epidemic into living rooms, confronting fear, stigma, and misinformation. It changed the conversation, especially in Black communities, where the impact was deeply felt. It also spotlighted how HIV impacted women, which was not formally recognized by health agencies until years later.

Today, we can truly celebrate the united and unbreakable spirit of 45 years of the HIV movement and champion a new era of whole health. But there is still so much more to be done. We must continue shining a light on issues that matter most. We must spotlight these across all forms of entertainment, media, and digital storytelling to drive awareness, understanding, and support. That’s why programs like Merck’s “Your Hive of Whole Health” are so important — we keep the community and their needs at the center and provide much-needed support.

If nothing else, what is one message you’d like for our readers to take away from this interview?

I want people living with HIV and the community around them to know they are not alone. There’s a whole community of support — a Hive — that can help them on their journeys with HIV. 

Go to HiveofWholeHealth.com to learn more about the emotional, physical, social, and mental aspects of living with HIV. Build that Hive around you because whole health is better together.

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PHOTOS: HRC National Dinner

Human Rights Campaign hosts annual gala event

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Gov. Gretchen Whitmer (D-Mich.) speaks at the 2026 Human Rights Campaign National Dinner on Saturday, Sept. 26. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The Human Rights Campaign National Dinner was held at the Washington Hilton on Saturday, Sept. 26. Gov. Gretchen Whitmer (D-Mich.) was the keynote speaker. Awards were presented to Marcia Gay Hardin, Junior LaBeija and André De Shields. Nina West of ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ performed.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

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