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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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Out & About

Archuleta to host book signing in Rehoboth Beach

Entertainer to meet with fans at Browseabout Books

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David Archuleta (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)

David Archuleta will chat with fans and sign his book “Devout: Losing My Faith to Find Myself” on Sunday, Sept. 6 at 2 p.m. at Browseabout Books in Rehoboth Beach.

The book is an inspirational account of his transformation from a closeted Mormon teen singer to a pop star who is comfortable with his queer identity. For additional information on this event, go to browseaboutbooks.com

Archuleta will also be in Rehoboth Beach to headline the “Night of Entertainment” on Saturday, Sept. 5 for CAMP Rehoboth’s SUNFESTIVAL weekend, which includes the Night of Dance Sept. 6. 

Visit camprehoboth.org for more information.

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Calendar

Calendar: August 28-September 3

LGBTQ events in the days to come

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Friday, August 28

Go Gay DC will host “LGBTQ+ Community Happy Hour” at 7 p.m. at DIK Bar.This is a chance to relax, make new friends, and enjoy happy hour specials at this classic retro venue. Attendance is free and more details are available on Eventbrite

Trans Discussion Group will be at 7 p.m. on Zoom. This event is intended to provide an emotionally and physically safe space for trans people and those who may be questioning their gender identity/expression to join together in community and learn from one another. For more details, email [email protected]

Saturday, August 29

Go Gay DC will host “LGBTQ+ Community Brunch” at 11 a.m. at Freddie’s Beach Bar & Restaurant. This fun weekly event brings the DMV area LGBTQ+ community, including allies, together for delicious food and conversation. Attendance is free and more details are available on Eventbrite.

Sunday, August 30

“Nellie’s DC Drag Brunch” will be at 12 p.m. at Nellie’s Sports Bar. Come get served like a queen by a queen. Join Sapphire Blue, Deja Diamond and their team of amazing drag performers for the most fun you’ll have all weekend. Tickets cost $58.51 and are available on Eventbrite

Monday, August 31

“Center Aging: Monday Coffee Klatch” will be at 10 a.m. on Zoom. This is a social hour for older LGBTQ+ adults. Guests are encouraged to bring a beverage of choice. For more information, contact Adam ([email protected]).

Tuesday, September 1

The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host a drop-in session to share resources, provide service navigation, connect with community, and gather feedback. For more details, visit the DC Center’s website

Wednesday, September 2

Job Club will be at 6 p.m. on Zoom upon request. This is a weekly job support program to help job entrants and seekers, including the long-term unemployed, improve self-confidence, motivation, resilience and productivity for effective job searches and networking — allowing participants to move away from being merely “applicants” toward being “candidates.” For more information, email [email protected] or visit thedccenter.org/careers.

The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host “Movement for Healing” at 3 p.m. This trauma- and yoga therapy–informed class is designed to help guests gently reconnect with their body and their breath. Through mindful movement, somatic awareness, and grounding practices, guests will explore how to release tension, increase mobility, and cultivate a deeper sense of safety and ease within. For more details, visit the Center’s website

Thursday, September 3

The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center’s Fresh Produce Program will be held all day at the Center. People will be informed on Wednesday at 5 p.m. if they are picked to receive a produce box. No proof of residency or income is required. For more information, email [email protected] or call 202-682-2245. 

Virtual Yoga Class will be at 7 p.m. on Zoom. This free weekly class is a combination of yoga, breath work and meditation that allows LGBTQ+ community members to continue their healing journey with somatic and mindfulness practices. For more details, visit The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center’s website.  

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Movies

‘Teenage Sex and Death’ has never been more entertaining

Come for the jump scares, but stay for the tour-de-force filmmaking

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Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson in ‘Teenage Sex and Death.’ (Photo courtesy of MUBI)

If any movie title can be said to describe exactly what it is going to show us, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” would have to be it – and yet, it doesn’t communicate anything to prepare us for what we are going to see.

For that, you’d have to already be a fan of the creator behind it – transfeminine, non-binary filmmaker Jane Schoenbrun – and the surreal, dysphoric, and meta-formal nature of their previous work.

A horror fan since childhood, Schoenbrun spent their teen years frequenting online message boards for popular horror shows, writing fan fiction, and going to see punk bands in basements; a bachelor’s degree in film from Boston University paved their way into the world of “indie” cinema, and their first directorial effort was an online documentary about the phenomenon of “Slender Man” (look it up), which explored the way media and reality can blend together in the cultural imagination.

That blending has continued to permeate their films: their first feature, “We’re All Going to the World’s Fair,” about a lonely teen who is drawn into a creepy online challenge, tells its story entirely through video clips she and the other participants share online; their second, “I Saw the TV Glow,” is an eerie and devastating tale of two teen friends who form a bond over their shared obsession with a paranormal television show and drift apart when it is cancelled, only to be drawn together again when buried memories of it begin to infiltrate their “real” lives. Both are driven by themes of gender identity, social isolation, queer awakening, and transformation – the stuff that resonates deeply with queer and trans audiences – and Schoenbrun didn’t bury the subtext in the story; instead, the subtext was the story.

With “Camp Miasma,” their third and (thanks to its win of the “Queer Palm” at Cannes) highest profile feature film to date, they carry their creative obsessions forward into a surreal narrative that exists around the border between reality and media-manufactured fantasy, and brings them into the the world of queer adulthood. Even more boldly, perhaps, it’s a comedy (albeit a dark and grisly one), a satire of the movie industry itself – which gives the director plenty of cheekily self-referential opportunities to make this their most “meta” film yet. After all, it’s about a young non-binary director working on a horror film, and you can’t get much more “meta” than that.

The onscreen director who serves as Schoenbrun’s semi-autobiographical avatar is Kris Williams (Hannah Einbinder), who has been tasked by a studio with remaking its classic slasher movie from the 1980s (“Camp Miasma”), in hope of generating an updated reboot of the once-lucrative franchise it spawned. Kris, who loves the original film, hopes to coax the actress who starred as its “final girl” – Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson) – into returning to the screen for the new one, though she has been retired from acting and living as a recluse ever since. Managing to get a meeting with her at her secluded home in the Pacific Northwest, Kris arrives in a snowstorm to discover that Billy now lives in the same abandoned campground where “Camp Miasma” was filmed four decades ago. She also has seemingly developed the unsettling eccentricities of an aging once-famous scream queen who has faded into obscurity and spent decades dwelling in memories of the past.

Despite some initial misgivings (on both sides), the two hit it off, and Billy agrees to help Kris develop her ideas for the reboot. As they work, their shared obsessions around the original film and its horrifying mythos draws them closer together into a more intimate kind of relationship – even as Billy’s unconvincingly “tongue-in-cheek” insistence that the franchise’s iconic killer is a real entity, waiting to be reawakened for the next massacre, begins to creep into Kris’s own psyche.

Ingeniously mixing fan nostalgia for vintage “Friday the 13th”-style slasher films with the Lynchian surrealism of modern horror cinema and the campy-but-transgressive absurdity of a movie that wants us to be “in” on the joke, “Camp Miasma” takes Schoenbrun’s broodingly ironic Gen-Z sensibilities and spins them into something that works on multiple levels. As a horror film, it relies on the familiarity of its tropes and gleefully manipulates our reactions, yet undercuts its own formula to turn it into a blend of parody and homage that somehow elevates the genre by way of its own deconstruction. As a piece of postmodern cinema, it precludes attempts at analysis by transparently analyzing itself as it goes as part of its own self-aware scenario, turning intellectual interpretation into just another trope of its own. As a queer allegory, it nullifies the standard critical interpretations by wearing them jokingly on its sleeve. As a love-letter to cinema, it brims with callbacks to iconic masterworks like “Sunset Boulevard” and “Psycho.” It uses the irresistible darkness of its milieu as a vehicle through which to express a liberating, sex-positive celebration of queer joy, unencumbered at last by a confrontation with the fear, shame, and insecurity forged by social constructs that are so often used to suppress it. It even works as a romance, turning the age gap between its two leads into a bridge that overpasses any notions of conformity and eliminates false sentiment by framing it as a sexy kind of cross-generational mentoring.

At the center of it all is the powerhouse pairing of Einbinder and Anderson, whose dynamic together works so well we never bat an eye over it, and who know what is being asked of them and deliver it with a fearlessness that feels a bit like pure glee. These might be the best screen performances of the year so far.

There are also some winking cameos, like “Kids in the Hall” alumnus Kevin MacDonald as a local hotel clerk who was once enlisted as a supporting player in the “Camp Miasma” franchise, and veteran character actor Dylan Baker as the facile-minded studio exec who simply wants Kris to create something commercial enough to turn the franchise into a cash cow again. Jack Haven (the trans co-star of “I Saw the TV Glow” opposite Justice Smith) commands our attention as Camp Miasma’s weirdly air-duct-masked slasher – named “Little Death,” a phrase which, translated into the French “La petite morte,” is a euphemism for orgasm, just in case it wasn’t already clear that the movie operates as a psychosexual drama, on top of everything else.

Ultimately, though, it’s Shoenbrun who is the real star; much in the way that Alfred Hitchcock turned his own unique milieu into a kind of star power that eclipsed even the draw of the big name actors who populated his films. They come into their own with “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma, creating one of the best films of the year so far and cementing their reputation as one of the most excitingly visionary filmmakers of the post-Millennial era.

In other words, come for the blood, gore, and jump scares, but stay for the sublimely entertaining — and entertainingly original — tour-de-force filmmaking that raises this one to the level of pop culture masterpiece.

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