Arts & Entertainment
Kevin Hart steps aside as 2019 Oscar host after protests
In the age of #MeToo, a controversial host is toast

Kevin Hart. (Photo Facebook)
UPDATE: Comedian and actor Kevin Hart says he has stepped down from hosting the 2019 Oscars following a controversy over homophobic tweets and comments from his stand up act from as far back as 2009.
Hart said he does not wish to be a distraction and that he is “sorry he had hurt people” after calls for the Academy to drop him went viral.
Hart had said hosting the Oscars was “a goal on my list for a long time.”
On Thursday, Hart initially responded to outcry over his being named by the Academy as host of the ceremony with a video posted on Instagram, in which he said, “Guys, I’m nearly 40 years old. If you don’t believe that people change, grow, evolve as they get older, I don’t know what to tell you. If you want to hold people in a position where they always have to justify the past, do you. I’m the wrong guy, man.”
This was followed later on Thursday evening with another video, in which the comedian told followers the Academy had called him and offered him an ultimatum: apologize for the tweets or step down as host. He refused to apologize, saying he had “addressed this several times. This is not the first time this has come up. I’ve addressed it. I’ve spoken on it.”
Finally, late in the day, Hart announced via Twitter that he had chosen to step down “because I do not want to be a distraction on a night that should be celebrated by so many amazing talented artists.”
“I sincerely apologise to the LGBTQ community for my insensitive words of the past,” he said.
I’m sorry that I hurt people.. I am evolving and want to continue to do so. My goal is to bring people together not tear us apart. Much love & appreciation to the Academy. I hope we can meet again.
— Kevin Hart (@KevinHart4real) December 7, 2018
As its much-criticized (and now recanted) decision to add a “Best Popular Film” category to its awards roster earlier this year clearly revealed, the Oscars are desperate to increase their ever-declining ratings.
Has the Academy Award lost its way? That question is increasingly being asked.
For the broadcast of the Academy Awards’ 90th annual ceremony in 2018, viewership was about 26.5 million people – around 20% lower than the previous year, it was the first time the figure had dropped below 30 million and the lowest number since Nielsen started tracking Oscar ratings in 1974.
The Hart fiasco was born of a reckless effort to boost its relevance and regain audience.
At first glance, it seemed like the perfect solution to their problem. Hart is immensely popular, performing to sell-out crowds in huge venues like the 69,000-seat Lincoln Financial Field in his hometown of Philadelphia. He topped Forbes’ 2016 list of the highest-paid comedians, and he’s proven his appeal to movie crowds with box-office hits, like this year’s “Night School” and “Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle.”
His films have grossed $3.5 billion worldwide, and his social media presence (35 million followers on Twitter, 65 million on Instagram) is impressive. The chance to see what he does as an Oscar host obviously had the potential to draw a lot of viewers that wouldn’t normally tune in.
In addition, Hart had been vocal about his desire to host the Oscars for several years now.
It’s a job that has proven thankless for many celebrities who have done it in the past – from Chevy Chase to David Letterman to Seth McFarlane, the ceremony has been fronted by a long list of popular comedians who were deemed to have failed spectacularly, and there’s an even longer list of personalities who have been asked and turned it down (as detailed in a recent piece by the Hollywood Reporter).
But Hart had actively been after the gig since at least 2015, when the Los Angeles Times reported him as saying, “If I can start the campaign now and get them into it, I’m all for it. I would just jump at the opportunity.”
Lastly, as only the fourth African-American person ever to host the ceremony (following Richard Pryor, Chris Rock, and four-time host Whoopi Goldberg), Hart would potentially have helped to smooth over the lingering criticism stemming from the #OscarsSoWhite controversy of two years ago, when the lack of diversity among the Academy’s award nominations – and onstage at its ceremony – underscored the inadequate representation of non-whites within the content produced by the Hollywood film industry. In a year when most of the apparent front-runners seem, yet again, to be white, having a black host might be a way to stave off any resurgence of backlash.
Unfortunately, this solution failed to take into account the messaging it sent on another front.
The Academy – in typically tone-deaf fashion – may have chosen a host who checks off several important boxes for image-conscious Hollywood, but in doing so it ignored Hart’s problematic history of homophobia.
And as you can see from the Instagram post above, Hart is now positioning himself as a victim of PC culture run amok.
It’s not all that different from the notorious comedy routine for his 2010 TV special, “Seriously Funny,” Hart joked that as a parent, “one of my biggest fears is my son growing up and being gay.” After quickly adding that he had “nothing against gay people,” he went on to say that “as a heterosexual male, if I can prevent my son from being gay, I will.” He went on to joke that every kid has a “gay moment… but when it happens, you gotta nip it in the bud.”
In a 2015 interview with Rolling Stone, Hart confessed that he “wouldn’t tell the joke today.” His reasons, however, had nothing to do with the obvious anti-gay bias involved; instead, he deflected by saying, “the times weren’t as sensitive as they are now. I think we love to make big deals out of things that aren’t necessarily big deals, because we can. These things become public spectacles. So why set yourself up for failure?”
He also responded in an interview with Parade, by saying, “I had one gay joke in my career and it was about my son at a birthday party, and it was before things got as PC as they are now.”
In other words, his only remorse was over how it affected his image.
Blaming the current #MeToo movement for creating this atmosphere is not a show of remorse. Neither is saying it’s something he’s sorry about while he keeps doing it.
Apparently, that remorse has not been strong enough to keep him from making more homophobic comments. His Twitter feed has been laced with them throughout his career – things like “Yo if my son comes home & try’s 2 play with my daughter’s doll house I’m going 2 break it over his head % say n my voice ‘stop that’s gay.’”
In one particularly offensive tweet, he called out another Twitter user by saying their profile picture looked “like a gay billboard for AIDS.”
He has repeatedly used phrases like “no homo” and “no homo gay,” and lambasted his critics by calling them such names as “f*g boy,” “gay face,” “fat faced f*g,” and “man bitch.”
According to an article published by Queerty just this morning, Hart had been deleting many of these posts – most of which had already been re-Tweeted in protest by thousands of Twitter users after news broke of his Oscar gig.
There’s also the matter of his treatment of ex-wife Torrei Hart, to whom he admitted being physically abusive in his 2017 memoir, “I Can’t Make This Up.” He also confessed in a radio interview last year to having cheated on his current wife, Eniko Parrish, just a few months earlier – while she was pregnant.
With LGBTQ-focused films like “Boy Erased” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” predicted to be in the running, as well as “A Star Is Born,” which features gay icon Lady Gaga, this year’s Oscars are shaping up to have a strong queer presence. With this in mind, placing Hart in the center of the proceedings – when his long track record of homophobic remarks was already well-documented and should have been taken into account by the Academy before offering him the job – was always a bad idea.
Whether or not the comedian really believes the homophobic viewpoints he has projected in his comedy – which, for the record, he has repeatedly insisted he does not – his selection as host sent a mixed message from the Academy to its membership and to its millions of avid followers, many of whom are either LGBTQ or allies.
It’s not the first time the organization has faced this issue. In 2011, Brett Ratner was forced to resign as producer of that year’s Oscar ceremony due to his record of homophobic slurs.
As for the Hart debacle, the Academy has yet to issue a statement.
Books
New book highlights long history of LGBTQ oppression
‘Queer Enlightenments’ a reminder that inequality is nothing new
‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages
It had to start somewhere.
The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.

The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.
“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.
Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.
William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.
Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”
Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”
Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.
While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.
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Movies
In solid ‘Nuremberg,’ the Nazis are still the bad guys
A condemnation of fascist mentality that permits extremist ideologies to take power
In any year prior to this one, there would be nothing controversial about “Nuremberg.”
In fact, writer/director James Vanderbilt’s historical drama – based on a book by Jack El-Hai about the relationship between Nazi second-in-command Hermann Göring and the American psychiatrist who was tasked with studying him ahead of the 1945 international war crimes trial in the titular German city – would likely seem like a safely middle-of-the-road bet for a studio “prestige” project, a glossy and sharply emotional crowd-pleaser designed to attract awards while also reinforcing the kind of American values that almost everyone can reasonably agree upon.
This, however, is 2025. We no longer live in a culture where condemning an explicitly racist and inherently cruel authoritarian ideology feels like something we can all agree upon, and the tension that arises from that topsy-turvy realization (can we still call Nazis “bad?”) not only lends it an air of radical defiance, but gives it a sense of timely urgency – even though the true story it tells took place 80 years ago.
Constructed as an ensemble narrative, it intertwines the stories of multiple characters as it follows the behind-the-scenes efforts to bring the surviving leadership of Hitler’s fallen “Third Reich” to justice in the wake of World War II, including U.S. Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon), who is assigned to spearhead the trials despite a lack of established precedent for enforcing international law. Its central focus, however, lands on Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek), a psychiatrist working with the Military Intelligence Corps who is assigned to study the former Nazi leadership – especially Göring (Russell Crowe), Hitler’s right-hand man and the top surviving officer of the defeated regime – and assess their competency to stand trial during the early stages of the Nuremberg hearings.
Aided by his translator, Sgt. Howie Triest (Leo Woodall), who also serves as his sounding board and companion, Kelley establishes a relationship with the highly intelligent and deeply arrogant Göring, hoping to gain insight into the Nazi mindset that might help prevent the atrocities perpetrated by him and his fellow defendants from ever happening again, yet entering into a treacherous game of psychological cat-and-mouse that threatens to compromise his position and potentially undermine the trial’s already-shaky chances for success.
For those who are already familiar with the history and outcome of the Nuremberg trials, there won’t be much in the way of suspense; most of us born in the generations after WWII, however, are probably not. They were a radical notion at the time, a daring effort to impose accountability at an international level upon world leaders who would violate human rights and commit atrocities for the sake of power, profit, and control. They were widely viewed with mistrust, seen by many as an opportunity for the surviving Nazi establishment to turn the fickle tides of world opinion by painting themselves as the victims of persecution. There was an undeniable desire for closure involved; the world wanted to put the tragedy – a multinational war that ended more human lives than any other conflict in history before it – in the rear-view mirror, and a rush to embrace a comforting fantasy of global unity that had already begun to disintegrate into a “cold war” that would last for decades. “Nuremberg” captures that tenuous sense of make-it-or-break-it uncertainty, giving us a portrait of the tribunal’s major players as flawed, overburdened, and far from united in their individual national agendas. These trials were an experiment in global justice, and they set the stage for a half-century’s worth of international cooperation, even if it was permeated by a deep sense of mistrust, all around.
Yet despite the political and personal undercurrents that run beneath its story, Vanderbilt’s movie holds tight to a higher imperative. Judge Jackson may have ambitions to become Chief Justice of SCOTUS, but his commitment to opposing authoritarian atrocity supersedes all other considerations; and while Kelley’s own ego may cloud his judgment in his dealings with Göring, his endgame of tripping up the Nazi Reichsmarschall never wavers. In the end, “Nuremberg” remains unequivocal in its goal – to fight against institutionalized racism, fetishized nationalism, and the amoral cruelty of a power-hungry autocrat.
Yes, it’s a “feel-good” movie for the times (if such a term can be used for a movie that includes harrowing real-life footage of Holocaust atrocities), a reinforcement of what now feels like an uncomfortably old-fashioned set of basic values in the face of a clear and present danger; mounted with all the high-dollar immersive “feels” that Hollywood can provide, it offers up a period piece which comments by mere implication on the tides of current-day history-in-the-making, and evokes an old spirit of American humanism as it wrangles with the complexities of politics, ethics, and justice that endure unabated today. At the same time, it reminds us that justice is shaped by power, and that it’s never a sure bet that it will prevail.
Yet while it’s every inch the well-produced, slick slice of Hollywood-style history, “Nuremberg” doesn’t deliver the kind of definitive closure we might long for in our troubled times. For all its classic bravado and heartfelt idealism, it can’t deliver the comforting reassurances we desire because history itself does not provide them. The trials were not an unequivocal triumph; though they may have set a precedent in bringing accountability to power on the world stage, it’s one which, eight decades later, has yet to be fully realized. Vanderbilt doesn’t try to rewrite the facts to make them more satisfying, or soften the blow of their hard lessons, and while his movie certainly feels conscious of the precarious times in which it arrives, it doesn’t try to give us the kind of wish-fulfillment ending we might long to see – which ultimately gives it a ring of bitter truth and reminds us that our world continues to suffer from the evil of corrupt men, even when they are defeated.
It’s a movie populated with outstanding performances. Crowe delivers his most impressive turn in years as the chillingly malevolent Göring, and Malek channels all his intensity into Kelley to create a powerfully relatable flawed hero for us to cheer; Shannon shines as the idealistic but practical Jackson, and Woodall provides a likable everyman solidity to counter Malek’s volatile intensity. It might feel early to talk about awards, but it will be no surprise if some of these names end up in the pool of this year’s contenders.
Is “Nuremberg” the anti-Nazi movie we need right now? It certainly seems to position itself as such, and it admittedly delivers an unequivocal condemnation of the kind of fascist, inhuman mentality that permits such extremist ideologies to take power. In the end, though, it leaves us with the awareness that any victory over such evil can only ever be a measured against the loss and tragedy that is left in its wake – and that the best victory of all is to stop it before it starts.
In 2025, that feels like small comfort – but it’s enough to make Vanderbilt’s slick historical drama a worthy slice of inspiration to propel us into the fight that faces us in 2026 and beyond.
Photos
PHOTOS: Whitman-Walker Gala
LGBTQ community health organization holds annual event at Ritz-Carlton
The Whitman-Walker 2025 Gala was held at the Ritz-Carlton Washington, D.C. on Wednesday, Nov. 12.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)































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