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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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Television

Repression, toxic masculinity fuel intense queer drama ‘Half Man’

A solidly crafted, well-acted, fascinating binge watch

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Jamie Bell and Richard Gadd in ‘Half Man.’ (Photo courtesy of BBC1/HBO Max)

In 2024, when Richard Gadd’s “Baby Reindeer” became a stock-boosting hit for Netflix, there were few Americans who knew his name.

In the UK, however, the Scottish writer/comedian/actor had already emerged as a talent to be reckoned with, blending autobiographical stand-up comedy with theater to create a reputation as an edgy and provocative creator whose shows tended to be equal parts divisive and successful. One of these, his fictionalized true-life story of being stalked and sexually harassed by a female fan, became an Olivier Award-winning hit in the London theater; that was “Baby Reindeer,” and – in the form of a seven-episode miniseries adaptation – it became the vehicle that carried him to wider fame.

Two years later, Gadd has returned with another high-profile miniseries, this time for HBO Max, and like its predecessor, it’s a story that deals with queer sexual repression, unhealthy attachments, and a central relationship that can safely be described without exaggeration as “toxic” – and it’s an even darker (and more twisted) ride that stretches across decades. 

“Half Man,” which debuted on April 23 and continues with one episode per week through May 14, is the story of two “brothers” – Niall (Jamie Bell) and Ruben (Gadd) – whose mothers (Neve McIntosh and Marianne McIvor) have become a lesbian couple after leaving their relationships with the boys’ respective fathers. They are seeming opposites in personality; Niall is quiet, sensitive, and secretly unsure about his sexuality, while Ruben is tough, rebellious, and prone to violence – and unsurprisingly, it’s a match made in hell.

We meet them at the top of the first episode as adults, on the day of Niall’s wedding, when Ruben shows up without warning; his appearance triggers what looks like fear in his “brother from another lover,” and a private meeting between them in a barn at the wedding site turns ugly, launching a flashback format that takes us back to their schooldays, when young Ruben (Stuart Campbell) – already in trouble with the law and trying for a new start – comes home from juvenile detention to become roommate, protector, and bully to young Niall (Mitchell Robertson), all in one.

It’s the dawn of a new and epic relationship, despite a history that has made Niall terrified of the older boy; their seemingly opposite qualities somehow mesh into a kind of symbiotic bubble, in which a tense equilibrium turns them into unlikely allies. Ruben makes sure Niall has nothing to fear from the sniggering schoolyard homophobes who target him, and Niall helps Ruben pass the tests he needs to pass in order to stay in school, Nevertheless, their dynamic is equal parts surprisingly tender and alarmingly lopsided. Though they form a bond, it’s a volatile one, and by the end of episode one – after an uncomfortable-to-watch late night incident that amounts to a sexual assault – there is little doubt that Ruben is a psychopath. By then, however, it’s too late; Niall has become hopelessly ensnared by his manipulations, and their dangerous attachment has taken permanent root.

In episode two, the timeline moves the past forward several years (while rolling the wedding-day story back a few hours as well), bringing Niall forward to his college years. Ruben is once again absent from his life, but the bond is still deep. He struggles to make connections in his new setting – including with another student, the openly gay Alby (Bilal Hasna), who recognizes a side of him that he has still yet to accept for himself. Though he gradually begins to adapt to his new social circle, his insecurities get the better of him – and despite warnings from his mother not to do so, he calls Ruben to come and visit. His arrival triggers another escalating series of incidents, this time entangling Niall’s new friends and culminating in a shocking, jealous-fueled explosion of violence.

Without going on with the story – after all, the two remaining episodes have yet to be released, so we wouldn’t want to spoil anything – it’s safe to say there’s a pattern here, and it’s intentional.

Gadd has already been public about his own struggles with repression, which were directly explored (albeit fictionally) in “Baby Reindeer,” and it’s clear that he had more to say about the effects they had on his life and identity.

As he put it himself, in an interview with the Hollywood Reporter, “Themes of, I guess, masculinity, or what it means to be a man, or ‘I’ve gone through a masculinity crisis’ come into [the show] probably because I’ve been through that in my life, and I feel I can write to it and speak to it.

“I always think that the best kind of art is kept close to your chest, kept close to your heart, kept close to your experiences, and I guess with ‘Half Man,’ there’s a lot in it that I relate to. It’s not an autobiographical piece by any stretch, it’s purely fiction, but it certainly borrows from themes and struggles and issues that I understand.”

That understanding translates to the series through its focus on tracing the roots of Niall and Ruben’s relationship by methodically tracking the cause-and-effect chain that links the major events of their lives together. It explores the contradictory combination of worship and terror, the transgressive eroticism that intertwines danger and desire, the power of the forbidden to make us want it more, and the self-loathing that punishes itself through violence toward others. The inverted framework of the storytelling, which works both forward and back to meet at (we assume) some definitive point, makes following it a bit like putting together a puzzle, which also has the effect of building suspense as we wait to see the “moment of truth.”

Of course, those who prefer a more straightforward narrative might not appreciate the additional challenge, especially when the subject matter – which revolves around experiences, feelings, and behavior that might be entirely unfamiliar to many audiences – is challenging enough by itself, in its own way. Likewise, and for much the same reason, there will be viewers who are unable to relate to its characters, as some of the show’s less-favorable reviews have pointed out.

But it would be naive to assume that the themes in “Half Man” – of fragile masculinity, internalized homophobia, misdirected rage, nihilistic rebellion, conflicted desires, projected shame, and the other ingredients that infuse this shadow-boxing psychodrama with such a distinctive musky odor – do not apply to more men in today’s culture of incels, “looksmaxxers,” and “the Man-o-sphere” than any of them would like to admit. We’d wager that its portrait of a same-sex, sub/Dom, borderline incestuous relationship might resonate more urgently there than within a queer community that has been grappling with those issues for generations already and are just waiting for everybody else to catch up.

In any case, Gadd’s newest variation on a theme is a solidly crafted, well-acted, and hypnotically fascinating (if sometimes uncomfortable) exercise in the kind of “can’t look away” drama that makes for a perfect binge watch. Or, at least, it will once all the episodes drop.

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PHOTOS: Miss Gay Western Maryland

Maria R. Posa crowned winner at Lodge pageant

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Maria R. Posa is crowned Miss Gay Western Maryland 2026 at The Lodge on Friday, May 1. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The Miss Gay Western Maryland pageant was held at The Lodge in Boonsboro, Md. on Friday, May 1. Maria R. Posa was crowned the winner with Aura Fixation named first alternate. Both winners are qualified to compete in the 2026 Miss Gay Maryland America pageant.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

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Arts & Entertainment

A reign defined by commitment and human impact

Nicole Murray Ramirez defined era in International Imperial Court System

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Nicole Murray Ramirez (Washington Blade file photo by Vladyslav Rekhovskyy)

Writing about the reign of Nicole Murray Ramirez and the close leadership of King Father Terry Sidie requires far more than listing achievements, because what has been built over these years cannot be reduced to titles, ceremonies, or public recognition. It must be understood as the result of a sustained vision rooted in service, memory, solidarity, and the real ability to build bridges within and beyond the LGBTQ community.

At this point, looking back and assessing this period means acknowledging that this was not just another chapter in the history of the International Imperial Court System. It was a time shaped by far-reaching initiatives, a clear commitment to concrete causes, and a style of leadership that moved confidently between symbolic representation and public action. In that context, Nicole Murray Ramirez’s announcement that her reign will conclude in February 2027, along with the coronation of the person who will assume the throne as the new Queen Mother of the Americas, should not be read simply as the end of an era, but as a moment to fully recognize what has been built while also understanding that a new chapter is about to begin.

One of the most defining aspects of this reign has been its understanding that visibility alone is not enough. Visibility matters, but it only becomes meaningful when it leads to action, support, and measurable change. That has been a consistent strength of the work led by Nicole Murray Ramirez alongside key figures such as Terry Sidie.

The Jose Nicole Terry Scholarship and Educational Fund reflects that commitment. Reaching $400,000 is significant, but what matters most is what that represents in terms of opportunity and access.

This leadership also prioritized historical memory through initiatives like the National LGBTQ Wall of Honor at the Stonewall Inn and the recognition of Jose Julio Sarria.

Efforts such as the Harvey Milk postage stamp, the USNS Harvey Milk, and multiple recognitions for Sarria reflect a sustained commitment to public recognition and justice.

International outreach, financial support to global causes, advocacy for transgender communities, and engagement with organizations beyond national borders further define this period.

The expansion into Canada and the opening of a new chapter that includes Puerto Rico highlight the evolving nature of this leadership. The upcoming June coronation marks an important step in that direction.

Acknowledging that the reign was not perfect does not weaken its legacy. It reinforces its authenticity.

This was not an individual effort. It was collective work supported by a broad network.

As the transition toward Feb. 5, 2027, continues, what remains is a legacy built on action, commitment, and responsibility.

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