And I think that’s a good thing
Sometimes, seemingly overnight, something you once cherished loses all its significance. Once, for instance, weekends meant video-game marathons. Now, I get bored after a couple rounds of Smash Bros.
Similarly, plunking down to watch the Oscars used to be a treasured tradition. Nowadays, I don’t give a good gosh darn.
And it isn’t that my interest in cinema has declined. On the contrary, nothing rivals the joy I get from a trip to the movies. I live a block away from The Bookshelf Cinema downtown, and I try to make it as regular a habit as possible. But I just don’t give two hoots about the Oscars anymore.My love of the Oscars probably peaked in 2008, when No Country for Old Men walked away with Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay, meaning that the deadpan, sardonic Coen brothers gave three speeches that night. That was the year I turned 14, and No Country was the first grim, gritty, sophisticated film where I could point to the 14A rating and say to my parents, “I am allowed to watch this.”
I cared a lot about the Oscars that year, but the Coen brothers, who became some of my first cinematic heroes, palpably did not, especially when it came time to give their third speech of the evening. “Oh boy, when is it going to be over?” they seemed to say. Nowadays, I sympathize.
I understand that the Oscars are a necessary evil, a way for good films to find audiences, like No Country found me in 2008. I understand, too, the breathless joy they bring to artists like Frances McDormand & Cuba Gooding Jr., and the platform they provide for artists to raise awareness of important social issues.
On the flipside, I understand the longstanding critiques of the Oscars. That they never pick the right movie for Best Picture. That they’re more about celebrity than cinema.That they really just provide an opportunity for Hollywood to pat itself on the back, whether that’s for diversifying its ranks or supporting #MeToo. That, at the end of the day, they’re one aria in the ongoing opera of meaningless cultural chatter.
But I just don’t give a crap anymore, for the Oscars, or the debates that attend them. And I’m glad. I’m glad the Oscars introduced me to so many great movies, and I’m glad that my enduring love of those movies no longer depends on their proximity to a little golden man. I’ve got better things to do with four hours on a Sunday night — and I’ve got lots of movies to watch.
Image edited by Alora Griffiths/The Ontarion